Fourth of July. In Pictures. Plus Awesomeness.

I was inspired by the Queen of Photoblogging, Stimey, so NOW YOU GET PICTURES!

Yeah, so, this past weekend I went here:

You can almost see my house from here! Almost. Stalkers.

With these people:

Don't they look like fun?

Granted, I have been doing the majority of things with these two people since the age of 6. And see? They're wearing bathing suits. That is actually all we wore--we put them on the second we got up and hardly took them off until we fell asleep--because it was ridiculously hot and we needed to be able to jump into the water at a moment's notice. 

It was awesome. 

I was also the only one who got sunburned. 

Jerks. 

(I like to commiserate. Also, I used to never burn. That was Claire's thing.)

We swam and kayaked and read crappy women's and homemaking magazines that reinforced all my feminist media-indignation and swam some more and jet-skied and tubed and rode in boats. 

I also wish I could get outraged at the commercialization of restrictive gender roles while lying in a comfy lounge chair more often. It is really the best way to do it.  If I were to ever design a Women's Studies degree program, I would have most classes be taken in scenic locales or at least during happy hour. 

Anyway, so on fourth of July we represented our allegiance to the democratic ideals of the United States of America by wearing sundresses. 

Please ignore the fact that my eye is being wonky in this picture. 

Why does this happen to me? WHY??

Patriotism is kind of a weird thing, yeah?

But it is also great, because it inspires small town America to make ridiculous things on trailers and parade them around islands. Like this:

Yes, that young girl is rather unenthusiastically roasting a fake pig. 

For America.

After seeing the excellence of these floats, I tried to make my friends more classically American. So they posed like this:

America= delicious food. 

Then we set off on an epic quest to find fireworks, the closest of which were a half hour away in Lenox. We found the site and were blown away by the number of cars there. Try hundreds. 

We wandered up to Tanglewood, eager to stake out seats. We suddenly heard a crowd roar. 

"Oh," said friend Katie. "I guess there's live music too."

"No, that can't be live," said Anna. "Because that was Carol King." 

A new song began.

"And yeah, that's James Taylor. So it's not live."

We sauntered in past many people I thought would stop us, and we found out three things: 

1. It was live. 

2. It was Carol King.

3. It was also James Taylor. 

You cannot tell it is them in this picture. But I've decided it proves this happened anyway.

I KNOW, RIGHT?

Some nice people let us squeeze our blankets in by their feet and we watched the end of the concert and the encore, plus a lot of intoxicated middle aged people slow dancing or waving their arms off-beat. It was magical. 

And it ended with fireworks. 

And for your storybook ending, I got to go home from that...to here:

I guess what I'm saying is, God Bless America. 

This post is not at all cohesive or logical

Electric lawnmowers are the absolute stupidest contraptions I have ever come into contact with.

I mean really. I'm going to inexplicably blame a random engineer for today's wrestling match with extension cords in a backyard in weather worthy of a sunny rainforest.

Let me reiterate my desire to live in an oasis of concrete for that blissful time "when I grow up."

Anyway, so yeah, I did that today. And it was stupid. And there were no outdoor outlets. And I used multiple extension cords. And probably got West Nile.

It was one of those days where you can't really look at things critically while they're happening because if you do, you'll probably panic. It started off with my alarm at 5 a.m. and me wondering WHAT IS HAPPENING? Then remembering the day. I ate breakfast praying it became, well, not pitch-black outside because I had to ride my bike to my babysitting job.

Okay. I'm going to get side tracked here. There are many things I am just naturally inclined to. Swimming. That came really easily once I stopped refusing to put my face in the water. Writing. Well, that's up for debate given the grammatical looseness of this post, but you know what I mean. There are also things I am just do NOT take to. Tennis. I have injured others. And bike riding. I can do it but that does not mean I will be happy about it. I will also have a mild anxiety attack and picture myself being tossed over the handlebars (which feel deceptively high off the ground) in increasingly more dramatic ways. I will also decide every car is going to hit me.

This is funny because my dad seriously bikes 17 miles to work and my uncle and his girlfriend do all kinds of intense athletic things on bikes that usually involve bringing multiple bikes for a single weekend at the lake. Even my sister ended up on a mountain biking excursion a few weekends back. Due to her stellar communications skills, I am pretty sure she was on the ground before her companion realized she had absolutely no clue what she was doing.

SEE?

Anyway, I was thrilled to be on a bike at 5:30 am. Luckily, the ungodly hour made the roads pretty empty. I still did a lot of nervous swaying until I got the hang of things. I also white-knuckled the majority of it. I got there in seriously good time. So I stayed with the kids for a few hours until I drove them to camp for--I am totally serious--Hobo Picnic Day.

As the two of them trotted off with their lunches in bandanas tied to sticks, I was wondering if I would also find myself considering the social ramifications of the camp's next Fun Friday Activity, Teddy Bear Tea day.

Catholic schools. I don't even know.

Then I went home and fought with a vacuum cleaner, followed by an all-out strategic war with the electric lawnmower.

I won both, but not without getting my first bee sting in probably a decade.

That settles it. I am old.

Then later it was more babysitting, to complete my 24.5 hours of childcare for the past three days. And granted, I sit for good kids. Only one of them enjoys screaming at me for extended periods, and he kind of has an excuse because he is eight months old and teething. But they're still kids, and I am tired and miss real people conversation. Even college-kid conversation.

(Though I gotta say, today a five year old looked at me seriously and said, "You know why Mario is FREAKING AWESOME?" and I died inside with the familiarity of it all. It even sounded like he was from Brooklyn or at the very least, Rochester.)

I don't know how mothers do it. I really don't. And I get paid to do all these things.

All I know now is that I am going to curl up in a comfy chair and watch wayyyy too many back-to-back West Wing episodes. And it is going to be freaking awesome.

Father's Day

A few days ago, Dad and I were lounging the the living room and he was doing his job. I was kind of bristling in response.

"Don't nag me, Dad."

"I'm not nagging you, I'm just informing you of the possible consequences of your inaction."

"You realize what's this weekend?" I saw him fight a smile. Dad always parents in situations like this like he's a few seconds away from laughing out loud. "Do you want a sappy Father's Day post or not?"

"I'm just saying..." and he went on to describe a plan of epic embarrassment he would launch should I not do what he thought I should.

"GAAHH NO! FINE."

We've had many conversations like this, where Dad imagines situations in which he would be entirely insane solely to create a ludicrous type of fear that somehow makes Claire and me shape up. Claire and I'd usually end up laughing with him despite our teenage indignance at being given advice of any sort.

That's what's different about my Dad. You'll read many memoirs that pair childhood images of paternal discipline with shouting matches and yelling. I don't think I've ever heard my Dad yell beyond cheering at the sidelines. I've been raised on snarky, observational one-liners and verbal kicks-in-the-butt to get me going.

It also turns out that he's passed a lot on to us.

I may not share Dad's fondness or aptitude for construction and yard work, but he did teach me that sometimes it's okay to stay in the car until the song's finished.

We always knew when Dad was in the car last because we'd start up the car only to jump three feet out of our seats with the explosion of music coming of the speakers.

Claire got Dad's stubbornness, but that came with a determination to master whatever she sets her mind to--something learned from example.

He put sports in our lives and pushed us not to become superstars burned out by pressure and overtraining, but the best teammates we could be. Be reliable, be loyal, shoulder the responsibility and never give up.

Dad does all those things and more every day.

I love you, Dad. Happy Father's Day.

Oh Yeah, It's Been Awhile

You haven't really missed anything. I mean, I have been doing absolutely nothing of interest at all.

I've been to the lake twice since I've blogged. The first time, the weather was fantastic and I took advantage of it by rowing and running around in the reasonable levels of temperature and humidity. I love running up there. At least I did, until we were having happy hour on the deck and two huge BEARS happen to lumber through the yard. Now when I'm running up there I flinch at every rustle and clap randomly to make sure the bears know I am coming and will not think I'm aiming to come kidnap their young. This is not because it is extremely likely that the bears would pay any attention to me at all, but rather because I am a paranoid, city-bred crazy person.

The second time we went up to the lake was this weekend. The weather was cold and rainy, which I found to be the perfect excuse to stake claim to the gigantic, puffy chair we have on the porch and read forever and ever. I also got to see the sister, which is always kind of the best thing ever.

To make money I am doing absolutely everything. I run errands and babysit for one of my neighbors, which has led to many adventures. Twice now I've taken the little girl to ballet lessons which are absolutely the most entertaining things to watch. We trek all the way out to Bethesda, probably because these lessons involve fairy dust and multiple costume changes. It's adorable. Today, however, I didn't drive in the mommy mobile. The van's still in Massachusetts. Today, I drove a pick-up truck to Bethesda. For readers who aren't familiar with the area, this means I was wedging the Toyota Tundra between BMWs and Lexus SUVs (I still do not understand the point of these. Whatever). The little girl, however, was thrilled that we were taking the Princess Pick-Up Truck!

It's nice to know I am relatively capable at handling small children, because her younger brother, who's not one year old yet, has found his favorite activity to be screaming hysterically in my face. One time I strapped him into the stroller and we headed out on a walk around the block. He fell asleep within two minutes so I just kept walking. And walking. And walking. Mostly in circles. For an entire hour. I think the neighbors found it confusing, but I just told them as long as he wasn't crying, I was going to keep doing what I was doing. I've also found that having a sleeping baby with me makes me extremely hostile and in need of a taser. If those barking dogs had...or if that stupidly obnoxious car...or if your need to engage me in pointless conversation WAKES THIS BABY UP I SWEAR I WILL....

I've also spent some time with the girls, one of which was a night brunch. I feel kind of responsible to keep some normalcy in Claire's absence, and this meant I was going to make a quiche instead of just buying something like I'd normally do. AND I SUCCEEDED.

I am becoming oh-so-domestic thanks to my realization that I have to feed myself something that's not peanut butter on the off occasion and the fact that I'm paid to do things like vaccum and scrub down lawn chairs and pick up the dry cleaning, like I'm doing today. As if I've ever had anything dry cleaned before.

I'm also sitting this evening. Making some bank because even though Greece is helping me out with the Euro, I'm going to be spending some serious cash in Amsterdam (for which I HAVE A PLANE TICKET. I KNOW. CRAZY)

And that is my life.

Yes, I Realize This New Design is Awkward and Way Early

So I am kind of bored, okay? And I was thinking, hey, a big part of this summer is preparing to go abroad for a few months. Let's change the header and make it Amsterdam-y!

Well that was kind of a big fail and blogger won't let me fix it, for some reason.

So yes, the blog "es International"in August. Fun times. At least I now have plenty of free time to come up with some Dutch pun I can use in the title.

Being Home

I spent all of last week rowing, sleeping, rowing more, running, eating and napping. It was awesome. The weather got nice in Ithaca, and I took advantage by making my sock tan worse.

It was even harder to leave this time because I won't see campus--and a lot of my friends-- again until January 2011. For some, I won't see them until I am SENIOR because they're studying abroad in the spring. Insanity. 

This summer I'm doing something different. I'm so used to structure and scheduling with swim team, coaching, and interning. This time, I'm putting together a hodge podge of babysitting, giving swim lessons, training, reading, and volunteering. I may not be resume building, but its almost refreshing in its freedom. 

I am partially spending my freedom relaxing with my parents, and my Dad is subjecting me to one of his ridiculous history channel shows. Most of these shows involve things like antique bicycles or car parts. But let me tell you, for all the weird television shows they choose, it's way nice to be parented again.

I'm also trying to get a jump on training this summer, and I've been really good about it so far. However, I've quickly realized that all this lush green shrubbery comes at a price: DEATH BY RUNNING. I also failed to wake up at a decent hour today, and so I can't get my workout in in the morning. I'll wait until it's NOT 85 degrees going on 90 before noon and won't pass out on the side of the road mid-jog. I also try to erg every day, in my nice and cool basement, but I'm not sure I could bring myself to do the entire day's workout on that thing. We're still working out our complex relationship.

One of the best parts of being home is reconnecting with old friends. Yes, cliche, but totally true. Last night we all got together for the first time for Cam's birthday. We went to Mi Rancho, which has the best enchiladas anywhere, and sat under their big tent outside laughing and talking and feeling like we never left. There's still the part of me deep down in my stomach that physically aches for Ithaca, but I guess that won't be going away any time soon.

But, coming up this weekend, the LAKE!

Start to Summer

Let me tell you, Ithaca rocks way more when classes aren't getting in the way.

I mean, seriously. Everyone leaves. The sun comes out and it gets warm.

Yesterday, I literally woke up with the sun at 7, rolled out of bed and chilled in my dorm kitchen, drinking green tea and eating cereal--totally relaxed and pleased with myself. Then I ran down to practice for my first practice with the varsity.

Things are different with them. They have WAY nicer boats, and their oar handles are plastic instead of wooden. That means my butt hurts less, my seat doesn't squeak, and I have all new blisters. But it is SO cool rowing with them and getting corrected every few seconds. It's only been three practices and I've learned so much already.

I got back to campus and fell asleep until the next practice. That's right. I NAPPED. Summer, I am a fan of you.

The next practice, we had a few too many people for the third eight, so I was put in a single scull. It took a few minutes to remember exactly how it worked, especially after rowing sweep for so long. But then, it was just me, out on lake Cayuga with the sun warming my back, rowing. What a perfect start to the summer, right?

But then there was the reality that I had 7 a.m. practice this morning, and I was getting up at 6 on my third day of summer. Still worth it.

And now I'm going to nap before my next practice. Let's pretend it's normal to nap at 10 a.m.