Week of Ridiculousness

This has been the most ridiculous week ever. I can't remember ever feeling more stressed out about life in general...ever. This is insane because I am normally a calm person with an even keel.

I am sure part of the stress comes from the fact that there are very few moments between now and October that are not already scheduled in some fashion. Some days are even double scheduled. And then after October 20th, I have absolutely no idea what will happen. I have a vague idea. I know that Neil and I will collect our things and haul them across the country somehow, but I don't know where we will live, how we will get our things across the country, what kind of a job I will get, how we will pay our bills, if we will be happy, if it will be scary, when I will get to go home for a visit again and on and on and on... This juxtaposition of complete schedule and structure with the complete unknown is making me crazy. I am sure that in a few days I will feel better again and get back to my regular self, but this week has been a week of panic. Thank goodness it is almost over.

Other People's secrets

I just discovered the most awesome and amazing blog. Postsecret I am really really busy at work at the moment, but had to stop everything and scroll through the entire blog. It's great. It's actually similar to a book I finished reading before my trip to Italy. The book is called Found: The Best Lost, Tossed and Forgotten Items From Around The World. Additionally, I have recently become enamored with video blogs.

I think these three things have one thing in common, voyeurism. But what makes me love them is the human connection they provide. Reading about peoples' deepest secrets or reading their personal notes, or getting a glimpse into their private lives is wonderful because of that sense of recognition I get -- "Hey, Ryanne is a lot like me. Hey other people have similar secrets. Hey, I wrote a love note like that once. I am not alone..."

My grad school lecture was about this same idea in a way, except I talked about those little moments of human truth found in writing. I mean really, that is the goal for a writer, to convey something universal through a story about something specific. It's really exciting that these other people are doing that in their own ways -- videoblogging, collecting things people have lost (notes, lists letters etc.), writing secrets down on post cards and mailing them to a guy named Frank.

Happy weekend everyone.

Pictures

Last night I was dusting the bookshelves at home and I came across an old photo album. I have dozens of photo albums/scrapbooks that I've been creating since middle school. The earlier albums have photos of high school parties and sleepovers mostly. The more recent albums have pictures from weddings we've attended, vacations and a surprising number of those photo holiday cards. I suppose the transition of photo album content is yet another sign that I am, in fact, no longer a kid.

The album I looked through last night was from the summer between my sophomore and junior years of college. I think that was one of my most adventurous times ever. I moved to Colorado Springs for the summer and lived in a house with two strangers. How we all ended up in that house, I don't even remember. I do remember the address: 217 E. Uintah. And the outside of the house was pale yellow. I had a couple friends from high school living in Colorado Springs at the time and some of my friends came for a visit one weekend, but otherwise, I was really on my own in a new city. I ended up becoming good friends with one roommate and just being amused by the other and overall, the summer was really amazing. I was falling in love with Neil even though he was in Yakima, Washington, and I was feeling really independent. Anyways, looking at the pictures last night was really strange. While I recognized that the smiling girl in them with the curly hair was me, I looked a little unfamiliar at the same time. I am not sure how to describe it better than that. It was one of the first times I've looked at photos of myself and realized that when they were taken, I was really somebody else -- a very different version of myself. And that realization was at once exciting and a little bit creepy. What it comes down to is that while I really like the current me, I kinda miss that girl in the photos.

Update

After I wrote yesterday's post, a couple commenters suggested I stop and find out what the shiny squares were just so that I could report back. When I went to lunch, I planned to do just that but amazingly, somebody had stopped and picked them all up between my morning commute and lunch. I have no clue what they were, but now that I can't find out, I have decided that it's better not to know. They probably would have ended up being something far less exciting than condoms, right?

Doogie Howser, M.D.

When I was little, my first crush on a human being (the real first crush was on He Man, but he was a cartoon) was on Doogie Howser. I was ten years old when the TV show started and Doogie was, by far, the cutest boy I had ever seen -- plus, he was really smart. I watched the show obsessively and made my parents tape it frequently. I also wrote Neil Patrick Harris a couple of fan letters, which, looking back, were probably terrifying to him. He sent me two post cards with his photo on the front and autograph on the back and I was insulted. Sometime during the show's run, there was a celebrity skiing event for charity at the Santa Fe Ski Area. Neil Patrick Harris, because he was from Albuquerque, attended two years in a row and both years, I was up skiing and got his autograph. I believe it was the second year when I got the nerve to talk to him beyond asking for his autograph and said, "I'm your hugest fan!" and then realized instantly that hugest is not, in fact, a word and turned bright red with humiliation. I knew at that moment, and for the first time, that being Doogie Howser's girlfriend was probably not in the cards for me.

Last weekend, while browsing at Target I came upon a rather remarkable item, Season One of Doogie Howser, M.D. on DVD. I was on the phone with Rachel at the time and she tried to help me avoid the monster of impulse purchasing, but only minutes later I was the proud owner of Season One of Doogie Howser, M.D. This week, I have been watching a couple episodes a night and am surprised by how good the show really is. I still love it even though Doogie now looks like a tiny little kid and I am in love with a different Neil. I love the fact that they're putting old TV shows on DVD now and that I get to own (and revisit) a little bit of my childhood.

Roadside Trash Proves That I am Not a Grownup

For the past week, I have been driving by a big bunch of trash every day on my way to work. It looks like a car or truck that was carrying something had an accident and a bunch of whatever they were carrying spilled out. Basically, an entire block is covered in little shiny squares of foil. They look like wrappers of some sort and they may still be wrapping something. When I drive by, I have to fight two separate urges. The first is that I want to pull over and pick them all up and throw them out. That is the good samaritan urge. The second urge, and this is the stronger of the two, is to pull over, get out and examine the little squares to determine whether or not they are condoms. See, I am so not a grownup.

The Pope

They elected a new pope today. I saw him make his first blessing live on the internet. (Fox News is good for something at last.) I think it is interesting that they made a 78-year-old pope. Apparently, they don't want him to stick around too long. Also interesting, the fact that he is very conservative. Looks like those who have been lobbying for change in the church will have to wait a bit longer. And finally, the pope, who is from Germany, was apparently in Hitler's youth brigade when he was young. He has publicly apologized for that and for the holocaust, but it is still a bit unsettling that he is the man in charge now.

Tea

Last week I came across Adagio Tea and I posted a link to their Green Tea page. On Saturday, I got a big tin of tea in the mail just for posting a link. It was truly exciting and the tea is awesome! This is another example of an excellent marketing strategy. They made me feel special because I got free tea. (If you have a website, you can post a link and get free tea too.)

Pants

Today, I am wearing a new pair of black pants. I bought them at the Gap a few weeks ago in anticipation of Spring. They are made of a lighter material than most of my black pants, but they still look dressy enough for work. When I put the pants on this morning, I noticed that inside the waist band is a cute pink stripe with a row of pink stitching. And, while I am ashamed to admit this, I think the inner pink stripe had a lot to do with why I bought the pants. Yes, I was in the market for black pants and yes, this pair is rather flattering, but that cute pink stripe sealed the deal.

"Ooh, they fit well and they have that pink stripe," I probably thought somewhere deep in my subconscious as I walked toward the cash register, pants in hand.

While I think it's really silly that a little interior stripe swayed me, I also think the Gap is smart to make the insides of their clothes nice like the outsides. In any case, it's a brilliant marketing strategy.

Jodi

As some of you may know, I am a little neurotic about my name. Perhaps we all are to some extent. A name is so much more than a label or some silly word your parents picked out to call you. Really, a name is a huge chunk of your identity, at least it is of mine. Just as, when I hear the name Nick, certain qualities of my 9th grade boyfriend pop into my head and the name Evelyn makes me think of someone who is deeply kind and cheerful like my 5th grade teacher, all names are really heavily loaded with meaning. Sometimes, I meet someone with the same name as a friend and I find myself thinking, "Wow, this guy really doesn't seem like a Josh at all."

When I got married, I agonized over what to do about my last name, even though it is less important than my first name, I still couldn't let it go and ended up with an 11-letter monstrosity of a hyphenated last name. I actually wrote a 20-some page essay about my last name dilemma for graduate school. It was a big deal.

Throughout my life I have had two problems with my first name: Jodi. First, nobody ever spells it right. People always assume it's Jody or Jodie. Perhaps one out of every 30 people who write my name spell it correctly. Even family members spell it wrong on occasion, as do long-time friends. And when my name is spelled wrong, it's just not my name at all.

The second problem with my name is that nobody else has it. When I was little, I had one pre-school teacher named Jodi and that was thrilling. There was also a children's chapter book with a main character named Jody (a boy). And there is an older cousin named Jodi who lives across the country and I have seen five times. Otherwise, I have not ever met another Jodi. But then, I discovered a blog written by someone else named Jodi who is close to my age and likes similar things. Finding her blog made me smile for the rest of the day. I'm not sure why knowing another Jodi is so important to me, but I always wished for a friend named Jodi when I was little. There would be two or three Sarahs or Saras in my elementary school class and I'd think, "Why isn't there another Jodi." Anyways, this new Jodi that I found is a great writer. Check out her blog.

The Longest Week

I think this has, quite possibly, been the longest week ever. Each day at work was so busy and stressful that it felt like three days. On Tuesday I found myself thinking, "Thank goodness tomorrow is Friday," only it wasn't Friday at all.

Needless to say, now that it is 5 on Friday afternoon (the real Friday) I am quite nearly brain dead. Thank goodness I am having a massage at 6:30 tonight. I can't wait to get out of the office!

Winner of the Worst Haircut Contest
During our travels in Italy, my little brother and I took pictures of people with bad haircuts. There were some mullets, an old lady with pink stripes died in her hair and matching lipstick and then there was this guy. He's looking up at an arch in Old Rome. I think the photo is slightly blurred because I was trying to be covert, but you get the idea... 

A Thought

Traveling...especially traveling far away and seeing a different culture and being surrounded by different languages and floating along feeling at once lost and exactly where you are supposed to be...and then returning home can really make you realize how small your life is.

The Governor's Nuts

On Thursday, Neil, my parents, my grandma and our friends Ryan and Shay went to the season opener at Isotopes Stadium. It's become a tradition in my family to attend the game and Neil even lines up on the day tickets go on sale to get the best seats. This year, we sat behind home plate in row K (I think) The seats were awesome and the game was a lot of fun. Our team played the Iowa Cubs (a farm team for the Cubs) and their pitcher was an injured Cubs pitcher so everyone was very excited about that. We beat them despite their Major League talent which was even better than having Major League talent in our stadium.

Some time during the fourth or fifth inning, Neil and I noticed some official-looking men in suits standing at the top of our section. They all had ear-pieces in like the Secret Service and were milling around in such a way that made it obvious they weren't there for the baseball. The only time I have seen men like that in New Mexico was during the presidential campaign when we had candidates visiting every other minute and, oh wait, every time I see the Governor. That's right, he has a posse and some secrete-service-like guards with him at all times. Sure enough, we turned and looked directly behind us and there was Big Bill, two rows back flanked by some staffers and a mysterious and attractive woman. Moments later the mayor walked over and started schmoozing. Feeling a little bit surrounded by politicians, Neil and I a)couldn't help but to stare a little and b) started squirming in our seats. We whispered to our friends and my family, "Psst... the governor is sitting two rows behind us." Then we went back to watching the game.

About ten minutes later, a lady who works at one of the nut stands in the stadium came over to where the Governor was sitting. She was holding a white paper cone filled with nuts that were giving off a yummy cinnamon aroma. "We'd like to give you this free sample of our new cinnamon roasted almonds," the woman gushed as she extended the large cone that probably cost $10 and was definitely not a sample size. The Governor smiled and thanked her and then Neil yelled out "Hey Governor, you've gotta pass those down here!" It was clearly a joke, but the Governor winked and said "I will in a minute." Then when the nut lady walked away, sure enough, he handed the cone to Neil, who tried to refuse, but the Governor said, "Too late Neil, you opened your mouth."

And that is how we ended up with the Governor's nuts. We spent the next half hour or so passing them around, eating some and laughing like middle schoolers or Beavis and Butthead. "He he, we have the Governor's nuts." or "Ha! I'm eating the Governor's nuts." I am proud to say that everyone joined in this banter, including my grandma.

So thank you Governor Richardson for the tasty Almonds and the laugh. Photo of the leftover nuts to be posted on this blog soon.

After thinking we had lost our train tickets from Pompei back to Torino and nearly making a police report, Dustin found them in his sleeve.

We went on to spend the night on the slow train. At 4 in the morning, we were kicked out of our seats by a not-so-nice train official who informed us that we had been sitting in first class. Oops. At 8 in the morning, we got to Torino and I have never felt that dirty or disgusting in my entire life. After a nap and a shower, we spent the afternoon shopping. On our way back to Dustin's apartment, we saw a prayer vigil for the Pope, but didn't realize that he had taken a turn for the worse. The next morning, we got on an airplane and headed home, about four hours later, while we were over the ocean speeding toward Chicago, the Pope died. We got home and millions of people headed to Rome.

Ciao Italia. It was awesome. 

Pompeians used these large stones as crosswalks. Rivets made by cart wheels can still be seen inbetween the crosswalk stones. 

A mural on the walls inside one house. The deep red color is called Pompei red. 

A fountain in the courtyard of a house in Pompei. Seashells and mosaic tiles are still mostly intact. 

During some of the original excavations, concrete molds were made of air pockets in the ash where Pompeians had been trapped. These concrete people are on display throughout the city. This person, who died praying, was particularly moving to me. 

On Thursday, we traveled the short distance from Amalfi to Pompei to see the city frozen in time in 79 A.D. when Mt. Vesuvius errupted and covered the city in volcanic ash.  

Salerno, a coast town in Southern Italy near Amalfi. We stayed in Salerno for two nights and took a boat to Amalfi for the day. 

Amalfi, a coast town famous for lemons and amazing limoncello, an after dinner drink made from their lemons. 

Smart Car. (They are so cute. I want one.) 

This is the coloseum in Rome. The marble seats that are seen only in this small portion of the coloseum used to fill the stadium. But the coloseum was heavily looted after the fall of Rome. Benito Mussolini, back when he was alive and in charge, had the small section of marble put back in the coloseum for historical purposes. We overheard a guide telling this to a group in English and either Neil or Dustin said, "Well, I guess he did one good thing." 

Rome's Trevi fountain which is really cool and way too big to fit in a single photo. We tossed coins in over our shoulders and made wishes. We also sat and stared at this fountain for quite a while -- which, as you can see by the crowd, was not an original idea. 

Roman ruins with evening light. 

The three of us in Old Rome. Which, I must say is amazing. The fact that they conquered Rome and then just left the ruins and built new things next to them instead of on top of them is so fortunate, because now we can see a little bit of what it was like more than 2,000 years ago.  

Dustin, Jodi, Rome and a faint rainbow. (Yes, we absolutely made the most of this photo op.) 

Neil, Jodi, Rome and the rainbow. 

After at least eight hours of walking and climbing to the top of the Cupola and riding overcrowded Roman buses and staying relatively dry during rain showers, we found Old Rome and a rainbow appeared. 

This is an ancient Roman foot. The rest of the statue has long been missing and now this foot sits in an alley in Rome where cars and motorcycles park practically on top of it. Only a city as steeped in history as Rome could leave something as old and historic unattended like this. If we had this foot in the U.S. it would surely be in a museum, or protected by glass... or at least there'd be a plaque nearby to let people know, "Hey, there's an ancient Roman foot right here." We learned about the foot from a travel book. 

This is St. Pius X. I believe that his mumified body is right there in the photo. The sheer number of dead people inside of Italy's churches (and underneath them) is something that escaped me on my first visit to the country. 

Graffiti at the top of St. Peter's Basilica. This just seems so wrong. 

St. Peter's Square from the top of the Cupola. Last night, I saw all of the millions of people lined up to view the Pope's body and it seemed strange that only a week and a half ago, I had been looking down on the relatively empty square. 

Dustin and I inside the Cupola (dome) -- all the climbing in close quarters made us a little loopy. I realized that I have visited the headquarters/home of Catholicism twice, but I've never been to the temple in Jerusalem or the wailing wall. That might be something I should work on... 

Vatican City. On Easter Monday (a holiday in Italy) we waited in line for about three hours so we could climb more than 500 steps to the top of the dome on St. Peter's Basilica. This is a photo of me and Neil at the midpoint.  

A little town called Monteroso in Cinque Terre or, the five lands. Five little towns are connected by hiking trails along the northern Italian coast. Pesto was invented in this region and we ate what was probably our best meal here at a restaurant called Miky. This view is from our apartment. After learning that all of the hotels in town were booked the night we arrived, we went to the train station where the woman at the info desk called someone (her parents?) and arranged for us to rent a top-floor guest apartment with two bedrooms and a rooftop deck for only $25 euro each. It was a very lucky night. 

Dustin and me with our empty Bicerin glasses in front of us...From the cafe's website: "It's a place where the art of tasting has made its mark in history."