Riding the Waves

Romania in pictures

2011-12-31T11:14:00.065-05:00

A picture is worth a thousand words, so here are about 20,000 words worth! However, if you prefer to read 20,000 words, check out my other posts about Romania. :)

Part One

Part Two

A very tired Pete on our last leg of the journey--a teeny prop plane that left us all a little queasy.

We heart motion-sickness drugs!

The enormous Christmas tree in the Targu Mures town square where we took all the kids. This shot was taken from our hotel room--what a view!

Don't let the background fool you. This isn't someone's property out in the Romanian contryside--it's the zoo! Here I am with my little friend ...

Some of the kids posing in front of the Christmas tree after we went to the zoo.

This is one of the teenage girls I really loved getting to know.

Here she is with her brother--they were sent to the orphanage together. Sweet kids.

Look at her beautiful eyes! This is another of the teenagers I loved talking to. Her English was great, and we got to have some cool conversations.

This is what much of the housing looks like in Romanian cities. Some of the orphan homes are in buildings like these.

A few of us from the team playing cards with the kids at their house. This was a home full of boys--it was definitely one of the nicer ones we saw. It was so fun playing cards with them, and a great way to breach the language barrier.

Here we are with all the kids from that house.

I know you're not supposed to have favorites, but if you read my last post, you know that I don't always play by the rules. This little boy definitely captured my attention, and we had some fun times playing games and laughing. He shares my sarcastic sense of humor, so obvi we hit it off right away. Miss this guy! His sister and he are both orphans in the same home. They thought it was so cool that Pete and I were brother and sister too.

Pete with his ever-present groupies. They called him their Justin Beiber. SO cute.

This is one of the group homes singing Christmas songs. After they sang, each of the kids gave their candle to someone in the audience. I was one of the lucky ones. :)

One of my favorite Christmas gifts this year.

Another group doing their skit. These two girls are absolutely precious, playing Silent Night on their recorders.

Acting out the Christmas story, which transcends all languages!

My friend with his Christmas presents--look at that smile and tell me you don't want to keep him!

The girls loving their pizza.

I love this picture ...

Having fun with the icing. This is another of my favorite pictures--this girl is a delight!

Merry Christmas!!

Romania: My moment, part 2

2011-12-31T10:50:00.001-05:00

I talked about my first, life-changing moment in my last post. The second one came our first day with the kids in Romania…

After a veeerrrrrrrrrrryyyyyyyy long journey (I think we traveled for almost 24 hours), we arrived in Romania. We had dinner, went to bed, then got up the next morning surprisingly well rested and ready to meet the orphans for a day at the zoo.

As you can imagine, after years of building up this moment in my mind, I really didn’t know what to expect, and to be quite honest, I was nervous. Would I be able to communicate with the kids despite the language barrier? Would it be weird talking through a translator? Would the kids like me?

All my questions were laid to rest the moment the kids piled out of their bus and ran to meet us at the entrance to the zoo. There were about 40 or 50 orphans that first day, ranging in age from five to probably 18. For many of them, it was their first time to the zoo; their first time seeing animals up close. What fun it was to see them wonder at how huge the cow was and laugh at the silly monkeys.

At first, the kids were tentative around us, feeling us out. Most of the orphans we saw the first day weren’t ones the Mission Outfitter team had met before (others we met later in the week have been part of the ministry for the last nine years, though), so there wasn’t a familiarity yet, and I’m sure the kids were wondering who we were and why we were there. After a few exhibits and one very bonding experience in the monkey’s awful-smelling house, the ice was broken.

One little girl caught my attention. She kept eyeing me, and I smiled at her. After a few smiles, she bravely came over, took my hand, and didn’t let go until we said goodbye that night.

Moment number two.

I have tears in my eyes now thinking about her. Again, I had years of expectations and ideas of what it would be like to spend time with Romanian orphans. But in that moment, it all melted away, and all that existed was that little girl and me. I had the feeling before I went on the trip that I would want to bring the kids back with me. I had no idea, though, the bond that could be forged. When I say that I left my heart in Romania, I really did.

The zoo became background noise as my new little friend and I got to know each other. Through the translator, I found out lots of things about her. She loves ice cream (all the flavors except banana), her favorite subject in school is music, and she’s lived in the orphan home for a little over three years (I wondered about that as you probably are now. I found out why a couple days later … keep reading). Her favorite word to say is “beautiful.” Even when the translator wasn’t with us, we found ways to communicate. Her English is impressive for a child her age, and she loves to sing. That was a fun was to communicate, since she knows quite a few English songs.

After the zoo, we went to a playground where we climbed on a jungle gym, played on swings and made s’mores for the kids. I enjoyed all the orphans that day, and included them in the activities I did with my little friend. But, throughout it all, she kept me right next to her; anywhere else wasn’t an option. And that was ok with me.

The whole group of us walked from the playground to the center of the town we stayed in, Târgu Mureș. Unknown to the kids, we were taking them to the GIGANTIC town Christmas tree. Some of them don’t have Christmas trees in their homes, so seeing this one was going to be a real treat.

On our way to town (a very cold, 40-minute walk), my friend and I walked hand-in-hand, singing Christmas carols. Sometimes, she knew them in English. Other times, she sang in her language and I in mine, both of us smiling at the new words we were learning. My appreciation for the power of music grew a hundred-fold that day. She showed me how high she could count in English (which was impressive), and then went over the names of colors, animals and other words she knows in our language. It was the best day I’ve had in years.

We arrived at the town square a few minutes before the lighting of the tree. The kids were looking around, wondering why we brought them there to see a big, lightless pine tree. Some I could see were disappointed—but mainly they seemed anxious to get out of the cold and onto our next activity, a fancy dinner at a hotel restaurant. All the adults knew what was coming, though, and kept saying, “just wait—you’re going to love this.”

The joy on their faces when that tree lit up—from the littlest boy all the way up to the oldest teenager—radiated brighter than all those Christmas lights combined. It was one of the sweetest moments of the trip.

It also made me think: How often in my life do I rush things? I always want to get onto the next bigger, better event, when God is saying, “Just wait here. I promise, something good is on the way.” Just a thought …

After taking about a thousand pictures (which I’ll share in my next post), we went to the hotel for dinner. Again, for us Americans, it’s no big deal to have a meal where there are two forks, three courses and more calories than we care to count. For these kids, it was everything. Eating out is unheard of for them, and eating at their houses is a simple, cost-effective thing. Excess isn’t part of their vocabulary. Eating till they’re stuffed? Probably never. It was so fun to teach them how and when to use the different utensils, and to see them shoveling the entire meal into their mouths, not willing to have even a crumb go to waste.

The best part, though, was what happened after we ate. The kids from each of the houses stood up and sang Christmas carols for all of us.

I like to think that I enjoy the simple things in life. But now gathering joy from the little things has taken on a whole new meaning for me. These children are experts at it, and they inspired me. They have so little; yet, to see them singing with such joy, you’d think they had the secret to all the riches of the world. How is that possible? I mean, when I say they have little, they literally have NOTHING of their own, besides the clothes on their backs. What I consider to be my greatest blessings in life—my family—they can’t even conceptualize. Yet they are grateful. Sweet. Kind. They certainly taught me a thing or two…

As the kids left that night and I said goodbye to my little friend, I had to hold back tears. I knew I’d see her again, so it wasn’t that. I was overcome with emotion. Fear at wondering what kind of life she’ll face. Sadness knowing that I would have to say goodbye in just a few days. Hopelessness at the Romanian government’s laws against foreigners adopting their orphans. But mostly, I was overwhelmed by this anticipation of the emptiness I knew would fill me the moment I said goodbye at the end of the week. I tried not to allow my emotions to take over, put a smile on my face, gave her a big hug, and told her I couldn’t wait to see her again.

And that was just day one.

Over the next several days, we spent time with different groups of kids at the ministry center. Mission Outfitter partners with a foundation in Romania headed up by an awesome young couple, Leandru and Claudia. They have a ministry center where they bring the kids each week to learn life skills, build character, play games and give them a safe place to go.

We also visited some of the children in their homes. It’s an interesting system Romania has now—it has come a long way since the 20/20 episode I saw so long ago. Several years ago, all the huge, institutional orphanages were closed and the children were distributed to houses around the country. The government hired a husband and wife for each house, and then filled it with the orphan children. The homes we visited ranged from five to eleven kids per home (most parents have children of their own that live in the home too).

Some of the homes were nice—not by our American standards, but at least compared to some of the others we saw. Some were cramped, sparse and didn’t feel very hospitable. It was quite a mixture, as were the house parents. You could tell that some cared about the children, while others don’t have pure motives.

Our team also got to visit two young adults who used to be orphans, but have since gone back to live with their families. What happens in Romania sometimes is that families will have a number of children, then decide later that they can’t afford all of them, give into some sort of addiction, or simply don’t want them, and so they give them over to the state. To me, these cases are some of the most heartbreaking. As if it isn’t bad enough to be an orphan in the first place, from birth, to know your parents chose you, over your siblings, to be sent away, must just pile rejection upon rejection and heartbreak.

The houses of these former orphans we visited can hardly be called that. They were cement slabs no bigger than my dining room, with flimsy walls and roofs that didn’t do much to keep out the cold Romanian winter air. Neither home had running water or a bathroom. Bathing happened rarely because the water source is so far away, and to use the toilet they had to go outside to the outhouse. There is so much more to the stories of the two former-orphans we visited (years of neglect, abuse and more), and I want to share them with you, but I don’t think doing so in a public forum is appropriate. If you want to hear their stories, though, send me a message, because I think it is absolutely vital for the world to hear what’s going on. How will change come if the truth is buried?

The next day, I was able to go to the house where my little friend lives. I was relieved to see that out of all the homes we visited, her house parents seemed the kindest, and though her walls were bare and her bedroom sparse, it was painted pale yellow and had windows in it to brighten it up even more. (I’m sending her things to put up on her walls for her 11th birthday next month). We played games and she gave me a tour of the house. Then we went downstairs to the kitchen.

At this point, the house parents served coffee to us visitors, and we sat around the table. My friend was next to me, holding my hand, and Leandru was translating for us. The little girl’s house parents told us that all the kids had written letters to St. Nicholas to ask him for things. We began to go around the table and ask the children what they’d asked for. A new toy. A pretty shirt. Soap. These were the answers we heard. When we came to my friend, we heard that in her letter, she asked St. Nick for one piece of candy. And also that he’d help her to be a good girl. Once again, I fought to keep my emotions under control. One piece of candy? And help being good? You have to understand, this girl is the sweetest, most pleasant little girl you can imagine. What help could she possibly need in that area? Can you imagine an American kid asking Santa for one piece of candy and help being good? Better yet, receiving one piece of candy and actually being thrilled about it? It’s mind-blowing.

I then found out the reason she has only been at the orphan home since she was seven: Her mother gave her to the state three years ago because she either couldn’t or didn’t want to be her mother anymore. There was never a father in the picture. The little girl often writes letters to her mom, but has never once received a response. She often asks why her mom doesn’t write to her.

I didn’t feel like my heart could take anymore. How could a mother not want this precious child? It’s not my place to judge, and I try so hard not to, but I can only imagine that her mom must be in a very dark, desperate place to give up her daughter and then make no effort to maintain contact. And the poor girl must feel rejection each day as she hopefully runs to the mailbox for letters that never arrive.

Again, I had to fight and pray hard for control over the tears springing to my eyes. And the whole time I was hearing her story, she sat there next to me, squeezing my hand so tightly. I wanted to gather her in my arms, cover her ears, and bring her home with me.

When we left the house, she walked with me all the way to our van, which was parked a couple streets away. I hugged her tight and told her I’d see her the next day for the Christmas party.

On our last day in Romania, we threw a huge Christmas party for the children, and really, they threw it for us just as much as we did for them. There were probably close to 100 kids there that we’d seen throughout the week. In addition to my little friend, I’d gotten close to a little boy and several of the older, teenage girls. It was so fun to see them all one last time to celebrate Christmas together. Each of the homes put on a performance of some sort. It was so much fun to watch them—even in Romanian and Hungarian, the message of joy they were sending was clear. After their skits and songs ended, we gave them each bags full of Christmas presents. Nothing extravagant—toiletries, a shirt, pencils, stickers—but talk about grateful, excited kids. I’m not sure, though, if they were more excited about the presents or the pizza and cake that followed! Pizza and cake are both delicacies to them—again, it was so fun to see them indulging, almost guiltily at first, and then voraciously after that. One little boy had his plate held right up to his face, shoveling every piece of pizza he could in it.

Of course, my little friend held onto me all night, and we did everything together. She drew me pictures as we sat together for me to take home. I look at them often. I wore a scarf to the party that she loved, so at the end of the evening, I wrapped it around her neck and told her it was hers to keep, a reminder of how much I loved spending time with her and that I was back in America, thinking of her and praying for her every day. She told me she loved me, and I about fell apart right there.

The end of the party came too quickly, and we had to say goodbye. When I say it is one of the most difficult things I have ever had to do in my life, I’m not exaggerating. I barely held it together as I said goodbye to all the kids, especially the ones I’d grown close to. But how would I say goodbye to one I’d come to love? I didn’t know it was possible for that depth of emotion and bonding to happen so quickly. But my trip to Romania was full of lessons of things I didn’t know or realize were possible. That was just another one.

It’s funny. I went there to be a blessing and to bring joy to the lives of orphans. And I believe that happened. However, what I couldn’t possibly have anticipated was how much of a blessing those kids would be to me. Not a day has gone by that I haven’t thought of them, prayed for them and pondered what I can do to help them.

I’ve had my moments. Now, what will I do with them?

I certainly don’t believe my first trip to Romania will be my last. But I also don’t feel as though going there will be enough for me. I want to do more. I want to be an advocate for these children who can’t speak for themselves. I don’t yet know what form that will take, but I’m committed to not be a person who goes on a mission trip and comes back all fired up, but that fire burns out.

No. What happened for me was the fanning of a long-simmering flame. It’s going to keep burning until I’ve done everything I can to help the precious children I met on my trip.

I’ve had my moments. Now I have my mission. Sound too dramatic? We’ll just see about that.
:)

My next post will be full of pictures from the trip.

Romania: My moment, part 1

2011-12-28T15:36:00.001-05:00

Some people can look back on their lives and pinpoint one moment—an event, a glance, a sentence uttered—that altered the course of their future. I’ve always envied people who have them, because moments like that don’t come to everyone. And when they do, they give life new purpose and meaning.

I had my moment.

But, before I tell you about it, I need to take you back to where the story really begins. Because, when I reflect on my life, I can see now that the moment which set it all in motion happened when I was ten …

Sundays were reserved for family in my home. Occasionally after Sunday dinner, we’d sit together and watch ABC’s 20/20 (yes, I was a dork even back then—I loved that show. I don’t care what anyone says: Barbara Walters is a saint!).

In this particular episode, Barbara traveled to Romania, where although their communist regime had toppled, it left thousands of orphans in its wake. I was instantly transported from the comforts of my home to a world my ten-year-old mind could scarcely comprehend: a miserable, hopeless existence for the children who lived it. As I watched the story of these orphans unfold, I vowed to someday help them. I also begged my mom and dad to adopt some of them, which didn’t work (instead, I got Pete, my now-17-year-old “little” brother, so I can’t really complain). Clearly, I’ve worked on my persuasive skills since then. But anyway … Since my parents didn’t share my passion for the orphans (or, now that I’m an adult and have a better grasp on finances, I understand how expensive adoption would’ve been for them), I decided that as soon as I was old enough, I’d adopt.

I’ve never forgotten that episode. The images of those children have haunted me for many years. You see, that day, something was planted deep within me. And because I believe that was my “moment,” what happened didn’t fade over the years; the desire to help children continued to grow and weave itself into my life. While I didn’t have the means or opportunities to go to Romania over the years, other children in need always captured my heart. Rather than attend college immediately after high school, I volunteered at an elementary school for inner-city, fatherless children, involved myself in the Big Brothers Big Sisters program, and moved to Hawaii where I spent a few months tutoring impoverished kids (and, let’s be honest—working on my tan in between).

However, even through all the work I did with other children, Romania kept tugging on my heart. I believed then, and I believe now, that God placed a desire to help those children in my heart, and that’s why I never “outgrew” it.

Last year, I found out that my mom’s best friend’s brother (I’ll give you a second to catch up …) has a mission organization called Mission Outfitters. And guess where they go every year at Christmas? Romania. As soon as I heard about this, I reached out to Tom, and asked him how I could get involved. He invited me to join them for their next trip. Due to finances and vacation time, I wasn’t able to go in 2010, but made plans to join them for their 2011 trip.

So, several weeks ago and after years of praying and waiting, I embarked on the journey that will forever change my life.

Stay tuned for more in the next day or two.

Dancing With The Stars gets its own blog!

2011-11-02T15:42:00.000-04:00

For those of you who have been following all the drama with me (hi, Ter!) in this year's Dancing With The Stars ballroom, you know it's been a pretty great season. So great, in fact, that I've decided to give Dancing With The Stars its own blog.

Also, I didn't really want to keep cluttering up my own blog with Dancing With The Stars posts. And, I am of the technically challenged variety who doesn't know how to segment my blog so that there are different sections for different categories. It was easier to just create a new blog.

So! If you love DWTS as much as I do (is that possible?) and want to keep following the ballroom action, then bookmark this blog, because it's awesome: http://officialdwts.blogspot.com/

You won't regret it, I promise.

A little trick, a little treat

2011-11-01T15:14:00.001-04:00

Happy Halloween! Are you ready for the big night? I’ve got about 100 bags of candy (fun size of course—my way of fighting childhood obesity) ready for the cute neighborhood trick-or-treaters…and I suppose even the ones who aren’t that cute. Because, let’s be honest: I’m not yet at that phase in life where I think “all kids are cute!” Hardly.

Anyhoo.

Last week, in what was probably the least surprising elimination of the season (except that maybe we were all surprised it didn’t happen sooner), we saw Chaz and Lacey go home.

I said it before, and I’ll say it again: As a person, Chaz is an absolute stand-out. Sweet and kind with a compelling story that I think had many of us cheering him on. Unfortunately, though, his dancing couldn’t live up to the rest of his potential. If there’s one thing we can learn from Chaz, it’s that trying your best doesn’t always mean you’re going to win, and nice guys don’t necessarily finish first (I thought that in a society where all the kids get trophies, it’d be good to have a little straight talk. Sorry, truth hurts). But take heart, Chaz. Despite the judges’ degrading and rude comments (he was compared to an Ewok and a penguin), you’re a winner in my book. I wish it had been Hope and Maks sent home instead of you.

And speaking of Maksgate, I procured some video for those of you who didn’t see the show last week and witness his meltdown. Check this out, and then form your own opinion.

But here’s mine, in case you were wondering. In all fairness to my former-love Maks, he did have some valid points. The judges haven’t been fair this season in some regards, and their remarks have often been degrading and harsh, as opposed to constructive. However, throwing your supposed “teammate” and “family member” Derek Hough under the bus on national television, coupled with an overall arrogant and generally douchey attitude, makes me take the judges’ side over yours. Sorry, Maks. There’s never just cause for disrespect or haughtiness—both are incredibly unattractive, even on you.

But onto this week’s celebration of Halloween on the dance floor. I thought I’d rate each dance as either “Trick” or “Treat.” I’m not sure yet what that’ll mean, except for the ridiculously obvious: Tristan and Derek are Treats. I know, too easy. But I couldn’t pass up an opportunity for gratuitous pics of our DWTS man-candy! Plus, I’m forgoing Halloween snacks this year because in addition to my concern for childhood obesity, I’m also fighting adulthood obesity—i.e. my own. So, no skittles and snickers for me this year—but that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy some eye candy. If your eyes are on a diet, then STOP READING MY BLOG, because a feast for the eyes awaits you.

Lord have mercy! Is it “Trick or Treat” or “Tristan Treat”? (how clever was that?) I, for one, say Tristan Treat, because HELLO! Please join me in completely ignoring Nancy in the following images in favor of ogling Tristan.

And let us not forget about Derek Hough, man-candy in his own rite.

Let's pause for a moment of silence in honor of our Halloween treats, and then move on to tonight's performances.

David and Kym cha cha to Abracadabra

David is adorable. He reminds me of a little Labrador puppy that gets so excited when his owners come home that he can’t stop wagging his tail and peeing all over the floor. At the beginning of the package, David talked about how hard it is for him to calm down enough to focus on the dance, so Kym decided to hypnotize him before the dance, telling him “you will remain calm during the cha-cha … you will remain calm during the cha-cha.” Hey Kym, next time try mashing up a couple Ritalins in his applesauce. I think you’ll have better luck.

During the dance, I thought David looked like he was lost on the dance floor, just following Kym around like a puppy dog. Kym danced, David watched and occasionally moved his feet. The best part of the dance was that David wanted to incorporate some magic tricks into their routine, so he “magically” exploded silly string at the end of the routine. But instead of going where it was supposed to go, it launched straight into his face and all over his head. He was flailing around trying to get it off himself. Hilar. LOVE.This.Guy.

Comments from the judges:
Len: Lots of tricks, lots of treats! Needed more rhythm, but overall well done
Carly: Huh? Really?

Bruno: You’re a natural at turning tricks!
Carly: Not sure what kind of “tricks” Bruno is talking about … Did he see what I saw? Maybe he was referring to David’s perv-stache. He did look like a pimp.

Carie-Ann: Your improvement is phenomenal! You were all over the place last week, but Kym has reigned you in! WOW!
Carly: What? Is it opposite day and no one bothered to send me the memo??

Score: 24, and I’m calling this dance a trick, because I feel like I was tricked by the judges. Or maybe the judges were bewitched by David and Kym’s magic. It is Halloween, after all. Anything is possible.

JR and Karina tango to Ghostbusters

The pressure is on for JR and Karina after last week’s score of 29. And for the first time ever, the two of them clashed during rehearsals. It was cute, though, because two seconds after their “argument” they were hugging it out. Start DATING already, you two!

I liked their dance. The footwork was fancy, and of course JR had his irresistible smile on the whole time. On a side note yet related, you know how people say Halloween is the one day a year that good girls can get away with dressing like total ho-shows? Well, I didn’t think that would apply to our Dancing With the Stars professionals, because, let’s be honest here: How much less could they really wear? I think Karina and Kym asked each other that very question and decided to have a little Halloween competition. Here were the results. Who won? I’m not sure, but it definitely wasn’t my eyes.

Comments from the judges:
Bruno: I was bewitched, conquered and swept away! The timing of this song was hard, though, and you lost it a few times.
Carly: I thought the timing was good! What in the world? It is DEF opposite day…

Carie-Ann: There was a tiny little slip, but you captured the tone of the piece perfectly.
Carly: If by “little tiny slip” you mean “little tiny costume” then I agree.

Len: This performance was sub-standard to what I expect from you. You were concentrating so hard on all the “razzmatazz” that you forgot to work on your feet.
Carly: No way!

Score: 25, and I’m calling this one a trick too, because Karina faked us into thinking she was completely naked, when in fact, she was wearing a few strategically-placed strips of fabric. AND because yet again, I feel tricked by the judges. What is going on here??

Nancy and Tristan jive to Devil Went Down to Georgia
As usual, Nancy’s comments at the beginning of the package were annoying, but Tristan, also as usual, was hilarious with his quick, witty comebacks. Tristan and I are like a match made in heaven. I’d like to start a petition for DWTS to pair me with Tristan next season, and also for the remainder of this season for Nancy to not be allowed to speak. At all. Who’s with me??!

The dance started off pretty bad. Nancy pulled a Chynna Phillips and forgot the first 15 or so seconds of choreography. Uh-oooooh! She woke up from her trance just in time to march and jump around the dance floor for another minute before it was mercifully over. It was pretty bad, and I think this may be Nancy’s ticket home and Tristan’s ticket to freedom.

Comments from the judges:
Carie-Ann: We all have our good days and our not-so-good days. Last week was a good day for you. This week, not such a good day.
Carly: I agree 100 percent. And can we talk about Tristan’s bad day for a second? There’s not a lot he could do to NOT look good. He’s one of those people who is helplessly, hopelessly hot. Except for last night. What WAS that?? Last week, I specifically requested that he and Derek didn’t cover too much skin with their Halloween costumes. And what did they go and do? Completely disguise Tristan! Why, DWTS? WHY?!?

Len: Certain dances suit you, certain dances don’t. This one went wrong early on for you. It was a disappointment for me, and I guess it was for you too.
Carly: Certain costumes suit you, certain costumes don’t. Face paint and fake facial hair do NOT suit you, Tristan. Please keep that in mind for all future shows. Kthanx.

Bruno: The devil got you, Nancy! You look devilish, but unfortunately, so does your footing.
Carly: The Devil went down to the dance floor, hoodwinked Nancy’s footwork and bamboozled Tristan’s hotness. NOT cool.

Score: 21 Ouch. I felt tricked AND gypped. And I'm pretty sure the image of Tristan not looking like Tristan will haunt me for quite some time ...

Rob and Cheryl tango to theme from Adams Family

I like Rob more and more each week. He pranked Cheryl like five times during rehearsals. And, at one point, he had to stop dancing because his “right butt cheek” was sore. Love it.

The dance was pretty solid, and I thought it was one of the best of the night. Rob was cute, trying to maintain a tango-esque scowl during the dance. He really rocked the footwork required for a good tango.

Comments from the judges:
Len: Terrific job, great footwork in a crucial week. Well done to you.
Carly: Agreed! But what’s with Rob’s moustache? Come to think of it, why are ALL the guys wearing moustaches and other weird facial hair this week??

Bruno: You are the master of the house. You’ve never been so manly and in control. But your bum got a little out of control—keep it under you. There’s nothing wrong with having a butt as long as you know what to do with it!
Carly: Bruno has a new crush. Calm down there, tiger.

Carie-Ann: Rob, your best dance so far.
Carly: I called that.

Score: 25, and right on. This dance was an unexpected treat!

Ricki and Derek paso doble to Sweet Dreams
Ricki is a rockstar. She has a rib injury that supposedly requires two weeks of rest to heal, but she won’t be stopped! She wrapped up that rib so tight I’m not sure how she could breathe, and then showed her ribs (and the dance floor) who was boss.

Derek’s choreography was sheer brilliance. And I don’t say that because of my crush. He is by far the most creative, evocative choreographer on that show. It’s amazing how he tells such powerful stories through dance. And Ricki hangs right there with him. The stage setting was a frozen, wooded area, and they acted out the Little Red Riding Hood story. Amazeballs.

Comments from the judges:
Bruno: It was like a blizzard of passion and fear in the frozen woods. At times, you tensed your shoulders, but I’m telling you—this was another incredible performance.
Carly: Couldn’t have said it better myself, except for that shoulder thing. Since when do you nitpick shoulder location?

Carie-Ann: Your shaping is gorgeous, but you do have to be careful of your shoulders.
Carly: What does that mean? Cut the injured girl some slack!

Len: The shapes you made were lovely! Quick, precise footwork. Twists, turns, whipping, waiting! Wonderful!

Score: 27 Of course, this was a treat, and not just because of Derek. My only complaint is that I thought they deserved at least one ten.

Hope and Maks samba to Warewolves of London
Apparently, Maks broke his toe, so he had to bring in back-up support from the DWTS troupe to help teach Hope how to dance. I wonder if he broke it when he left a flaming bag of doggie-doo on Len’s front porch, rang the doorbell and ran away?

Anyhoo, during the rehearsals--both for their individual and team performances--Maks spent most of the time yelling, swearing and being angry at Hope. Geeze, no wonder she can't dance. What is his problem this season? He claims he's just passionate. But I'm an incredibly passionate person, and you don't find me screaming at all the things I'm passionate about. It's weird. He was so great last season. Kirstie seemed to bring out the best in him. But with Hope, he's just a bratty brute.

As usual, Hope’s dancing was awkward and underwhelming. I really don’t have much to say about it (I know—shocking). I thought there was mild improvement, but she’s still not graceful and I still don’t think she’s pleasant to watch.

Carie-Ann: You had a lightness this week that was fun to watch. Good job.
Carly: Stop it.

Len: The samba can be a celebrity’s graveyard. But you coped well with a difficult dance.
Carly: Seriously, stop it.

Bruno: You were running away from the big, bad wolf and dancing as if your life depended on it! Better timing, better placement, you should be proud.
Carly: STOP.IT! It’s obvious to me what happened here: After last week’s Maksgate blowup, the judges were told under threat of job extermination, that they had to be nicer to those they’ve been giving a hard time to, and give a hard time to those they’ve been nice to. Hence the no-10s for Ricki and JR, and the nice comments for Hope. That is the only explanation I can think of. Well, that, and Len didn’t want another pile of flaming dog-doo on his front porch from Maks. Let’s hope next week, they’re back to being honest and unintimidated.

Score: 24. TOTAL trick. Wow.

Last up, we had two group dances. I LOVE group dance night!

Group 1 was David/Kym; JR/Karina and Nancy/Tristan, called Team Tango.

JR and Karina were the team “captains,” so they got to choose their team and the choreography. Dancing to Rihanna’s Disturbia, Team Tango looked pretty disturbed, to borrow some alliteration from Bruno. When they were all six dancing together, I liked it. But their individual dances (aside from JR and Karina of course) were bad, bad, bad.
Score: 23

Group 2, Team Paso (stop with the creative names already), was Ricki/Derek; Hope/Maks and Rob/Cheryl.

They danced to Bring Me to Life by Evanescence, and it was awesome! As usual, anything Derek touches turns to gold, and this dance was no exception. As the team captains, he and Ricki led Team Paso to an unforgettable, magical, exciting, passionate Paso. Well done!
Score: 26, which I thought was little low, but whatevs.

My prediction is that Nancy and Tristan go home tonight, but who knows—we could be tricked yet again. Until next week, I’ll be over here, trying to erase the image of all those perv-staches from my mind.

Dancing with the Stars takes Broadway by storm … Or, wait a minute, is it the Maksim Chmerkovskiy Show?

2011-10-26T10:20:00.001-04:00

Before we begin this week’s recap of the show, we must bid adieu to one of the funnest, most flamboyant contestants ever to cut the DWTS rug—Carson Kressley.

While it wasn’t all that shocking to see him go, it was sad. I, for one, will miss his collagen-enhanced smile, sparkling costumes and the way he creeped on Maks (because, let’s be honest—can we blame him for saying what we were all thinking??). Here’s to you, Mr. Kressley. You will be missed, but know that your creepiness and amazing costumes will go down in my history book as what made you one of my all-time favorite DWTS contestants.

Last night was Broadway night, and I was excited to see what the dancers would bring to the stage. Anger. Insults. Disrespect. You know, the usual. Gloves came off, Maks flipped his you-know-what, and things got heated. But more about that later. First, let’s cha-cha.

Rob and Cheryl cha-cha to Walk Like a Man from Jersey Boys
I never thought I’d say this, but Rob Kardashian is growing on me. He’s incredibly immature and a total momma’s boy, but somehow, still completely loveable (It’s not like I’m looking for a love connection here…). At the beginning of the competition, I had zero faith that he’d still be here at this point, but he’s stepped up to be quite a contender. Tonight, he shook what his Kardashian genes gave him, smiled a lot, and showed the judges and the rest of the competition that he is in it to win it! I also wish he’d show us even just a little bit of personality now and then, like when he receives good scores. C’mon Rob! Crack a smile with those ridiculously-white teeth! I shouldn’t be more excited than you are …

Comments from the judges:
Len: Clean, precise, good timing. Each dance gives you new challenges. The cha-cha-cha has to show rhythm, and there wasn’t any. It was stiff and starchy.
Carly: First, why are you calling it the cha-cha-cha? Second, you said it had good timing, and then you said there wasn’t any rhythm. I’m confused. And, although Rob has clearly stated on numerous occasions that he has a COLLEGE DEGREE, I think he was confused as well. Let’s try constructive criticism, Len!

Bruno: The truth is, this is opening night on Broadway, and you’ve got to take it full on from the opening bar. You have to be in charge. It was adequate, but it didn’t have the impact and power it should at this stage.
Carly: Is Bruno gay? If so, he and Carson would make an ADORBS couple.

Carie-Ann: Not as great as what I saw last week, but I saw much more charisma than I’ve ever seen before. You’re right on the cusp. You’re an adolescent now, rather than a kid, yet not quite a man. You’re like a late bloomer.
Carly: Why is there SO much talk about Rob “being a man”? I mean, the guy is a college graduate (as he’s mentioned before … on many occasions … numerously), so he’s at LEAST 22 (unless he was a child genius, and I’m going to go out on a limb and say he wasn’t…). How is there any question as to whether or not he’s a “man” yet? Geeze, find something else to talk about or criticize! The judges are there for a reason, and that reason is to give constructive feedback that will help the stars grow as dancers each week. It bugs when they don’t do that and they just nitpick, which is what they did to Rob last night.

Score: 22, which I guess was pretty fair all-in-all.

Nancy and Tristan foxtrot to Always Look on the Bright Side of Life from Monte Python
Tristan in that outfit! Lord have mercy!

He looks like he needs a damsel in distress to rescue on his white horse. Clearly, Nancy is in distress, but I don’t think she qualifies as a damsel. Hang on, Tristan! I’ll go find some trouble so you can be my hero.

Why is Nancy so mean to Tristan? Look at him. Listen to his ridiculously cute accent. How could ANYone be mean to him?? I said it last week, and I’ll say it again: Nancy Grace needs to learn a thing or two about appreciating what is right in front of her. Every girl in America (and by “every girl in America” I mean me) would KILL for the opportunity Nancy has right now. Try ENJOYING it, Nancy, rather than moaning about every single thing Tristan does. Which, by the way, is all for you. I’m thinking that since Tristan is the DWTS professional rookie this year, he’s being hazed. That must be it. DWTS hazes first year professionals, and Nancy Grace is their hazing for this year. A little harsh, if you ask me. Let’s hope Tristan will put up with Nancy’s horrible attitude long enough to earn himself a ticket back next year, and a WAY better partner (I’m accepting offers, if you’re interested, Trist.)

Anyhoo, onto the dance: Last week (and nearly every week since this started), Nancy was told to sparkle and show some personality. And I thought she did a lot better this week, even if her fake smile nearly sprained her facial muscles. At least she tried.

Comments from the judges:
Bruno: Nancy Dancelot with Tristan Lancelot. Captured the feel of the musical while doing a foxtrot.
Carly: I love Bruno’s rhymes.

Carie-Ann: You showed me, didn’t you! You upped the ante! That’s what you call a showstopper!
Carly: Tristan always stops my show.

Len: I’m smiling because much more personality came out; we saw a different side of you.
Carly: Agreed. Well done, Nancy. Way to take on constructive criticism and improve. Now if only you’d read my blog and start being nice to Tristan. Last night, I debated about whether I should vote for Tristan so I can see more of him, or be unselfish and not vote so he can be put out of his misery. I LOVE him. And I’m selfish. So I voted—from my cell phone AND my hotel room’s phone. Hmmm I wonder if that’ll get charged to my room bill?

Score: 24 Tristan, you miracle worker, you! Only you could take Nancy Grace and turn her into one of the top performers. Well done!

David and Kym quickstep to We Go Together from Grease
First of all, I LOVE Grease, so this was definitely my favorite song of the night. David and Kym made a really cute Danny and Sandy. David is so sweet, and his enthusiasm is contagious, but dude—get it under control a little! The foxtrot just couldn’t contain him …

I was interrupted very rudely by the arrival of my room service, but what I did see of the performance was what I expected. There were some awkward missteps, and David just gets so excited that he gets out in front of the dance, as though the music is just TOO SLOW.

Comments from the judges:
Carie Ann: Loved it, except you didn’t stay in sync.
Carly: Isn’t staying N SYNC what it’s all about? I’m no professional judge, but I thought it was …

Len: It was what it was. Rough around the edges, but high energy, full on, and your enthusiasm got the better of you. It was fun!
Carly: Why is Courtney Cox crying again? She cries every week when he dances. I don’t understand …

Bruno: You have the exuberance of a teenager on spring break.
Carly: Haha

Score: 23, which seemed a little high to me (kinda like David seemed a little high to me)

Ricki and Derek quickstep to Luck be a Lady from Guys and Dolls
First order of business: Ricki looks like she’s lost a ton of weight! And she confirmed in the after-dance interview that she’s lost at least 20 pounds. Gooooo Ricki! It’d be rude of me to compliment Ricki without saying something nice about Derek. So, Derek, I love you. And even though you have really strange facial hair this week, you are always a looker in my book.

I loved their dance, as usual. Full of fun, energy and Derek’s hotness—what more could I ask for? The judges apparently felt the same way, as Carie-Ann and Bruno both gave a standing ovation. YES!

Comments from the judges:
Len: Luck be a Lady—you don’t need luck if you’ve got talent, and you’ve got talent! I loved it. I thought it was fanTAStic. (Emphasis totally his.)
Carly: Ricki’s dress was too long for me to see her feet, so I had a hard time judging.

Bruno: Impeccable style, outstanding choreography. Your interpretation of the music was just beyond belief.
Carly: Ya team DerIcki!

Carie-Ann: That dance was poetry in motion done SO well. Can anyone say “Tony Award?”??
Carly: I don’t know about that, but I CAN say “Marry me, Derek. Dump Lauren Conrad! What does she have that I don’t?”

Never mind, don’t answer that. Please.

Score: 29—their highest score so far, and I voted my FACE off for those two. Because even though I mostly carry on about Derek, I really like Ricki too.

Chaz and Lacey tango to the theme from Phantom of the Opera
Lacey has the patience of …someone really patient. She’s so sweet to Chaz while still letting him know that he needs to STEP it UP. Seriously, Chaz. Come the heck ON! But to be fair, he is trying SO hard, and I love seeing that kind of determination and hard work. Dancing doesn’t come naturally to everyone, and Chaz has been through a lot both physically and emotionally. I can only imagine what this competition means to him. I continue to be impressed by him as a person. But not so much by him as a dancer.

Question 1: Could he see with that mask on last night? Because, c’mon—he has a hard enough time dancing without impairing his vision!

Question 2: Was anyone else impressed with his improvement this week?? Apparently not, judging by the judges' comments. But to me, it was like a transformation compared to previous weeks.

Comments from the judges:
Bruno: That was like watching a cute little penguin try to be a menacing bird of prey. Some roles fit certain characters and some roles don’t. This character didn’t fit you.
Carly: That was really, really mean, and the look on Chaz’s face when Bruno said that made me want to cry. That was uncalled for, Bruno, and so, so uncool.

Carie-Ann: At week six, I want to see a little bit more content. You’ve gotta push further. I definitely saw the attitude for the dance, though.
Carly: Agreed.

Len: The first rule of each dance is to get through the routine, and you did that. I know you’re trying your hardest, and I can see that. Hold should be tighter, though, and more aggressive for the tango. Good job on a tough dance. It didn’t suit your personality, but well done.
Carly: I appreciated Len’s constructive criticism, but overall, I felt like crying for Chaz. He is trying SO HARD, I just want him to succeed.

Score: 19. What can you say? He’s just not cutting it (the rug).

Hope and Maks rumba to Seasons of Love from Rent, then Maks has a meltdown
First, did anyone else notice Hope in the background of all the after-dance interviews, sitting on the couch like a total man?? I mean, I’m not trying to pick on her. But, Hope, close your knees! During their rehearsals this week, Maks brought in some of the professional girl dancers to show Hope how to dance. She said, “One day I hope to be as sexy as any of those professional dancers.” My advice to Hope is to start by sitting with your knees together.

The dance itself was bad—I thought it was one of their worst yet. She was SO awkward!

Dancing isn’t her thing. Stick with soccer and posing naked for ESPN mag, Hope. I’ve heard you’re good at both of those things.

The dance floor heated UP after their routine, though, when the judges commented …

And sadly, shockingly, in one moment of disrespect, arrogance and general doucheyness, my undying love for Maksim Chmerkovskiy died … and was redirected toward Derek and Tristan. Sorry Maks. You had your chance.

Comments from the judges:
Carrie-Ann: I see all the effort you’re putting toward your movement. But still, there’s just something about dancing that goes against your natural feistiness. You force the move so much that it distorts it a little.
Carly: Poor thing. She looked like she was going to cry. Cowgirl up, Hope. You’re an Olympic athlete. You pose nekkid in magazines. You have a lot of other things going for you. Don’t sweat this.

Len: I’m at a loss for what to say here. I’ve never lost faith in you, Hope. I always feel that there is so much there, and for some reason, it hasn’t come out. This was the worst dance of the whole season in my opinion. I’m really disappointed.
Carly: OOOOOOOOOOH SNAP! Them are fightin words, Len!

Maks pulled off the gloves and melted down right there on the dance floor. Dang! In his tirade, he told Len that it’s time for him to retire, that his 50-plus years in the ballroom are over, that the judges are “so judgmental” (ummmm, a bit ironic, no? Isn’t that what judges are paid to be?), and in what was the most shocking (and off-putting) statement of the night, he declared, “This is MY show. I have helped make it what it is.” Really, Maks? REALLY? Then, he blatantly said that all Chaz does (without naming Chaz--but we all knew who he was talking about) is walk around on the dance floor, and gets an “A for effort” from the judges. What a butthead. I'm SO over it. And while I don’t think he and Hope will go home yet, they really deserve to. Not because of the outburst, but because she’s a bad dancer. Sorry about it.

Score: 20, which was right on. The worst dance of the night was Chaz and Lacey, and they received a 19. The second-worst dance of the night was Hope and Maks, and they received a 20.

J.R. and Karina quickstep to Hot Honey Rag from Chicago
I can only imagine what it felt like to take the stage post Maks-meltdown. But if there was any couple to overcome Maksgate, it was J.R. and Karina.

Their routine was unbelievaballs! Again! J.R. is just awesome. Not much else to say about that.

Comments from the judges:
Len: You are truly relentless. You just keep on keeping on.
Carly: Ditto.

Bruno: You created a rip-roaring eleven o’clock number that makes the show a HIT!
Carly: Double-ditto.

Carie-Ann: Can I give another Tony away in one night???
Carly: No, Carie! Only ONE Tony per night!! That’ll teach you to give out your Tonies a little more carefully.

Score: 29 , and tied for first! They got the other third of my votes. I love those two together.

Group dance to Big Spender and Money Money
Carson came back to help with choreography (i.e. morale). He also gave one of the greatest life lessons I think we’ve ever learned from DWTS: “If you start to panic about anything, just do jazz hands!” So true, Carson … so very true …

I loved the group dance for a few reasons:

1. The outfits

2. Seeing everyone interacting and having fun together makes me all warm and fuzzy inside. Not really, but I am glad they’re all friendly. Someday, when I’m on the show, I’ll be nice to all the other stars too.

3. Carson blatantly hitting on Maks will never get old to watch. Best line of the night was when Maks was practicing a move and landed slightly off balance. Carson yelled, “OMG YOU ALMOST DIED! Hug me!!” And goes in for a big bear hug. Well played, Carson. Well played.
Standouts among the stars were Ricki, Rob (I’m calling it now: Dark Horse) and Nancy’s brave lift with Tristan.

So that’s it for Broadway night! The ballroom survived Maks’ absurd outburst (d-bag) and the show will go on for another week. Next week is Halloween week. I’m not sure what that means music and dance-wise, but I bet it’ll be fun. Let’s just hope Tristan and Derek don’t dress up in costumes that cover TOO much skin, and that maybe Maks wears a happy-face costume.

Until next week, I’ll be over here, avoiding angry Ukrainians.

DWTS rawks the 80s

2011-10-20T17:43:00.005-04:00

***DISCLAIMER***
I mostly wrote this Monday night, but as I’m traveling for work all week this week and next, I just haven’t had the chance to post till now. I’ve decided to leave the post as-is and save talking about who was eliminated this week until next week. Mmmkay? Now let’s get this party started!

I hate to start off on a somber note, but it’s necessary… Chynna Phillips was voted off last Tuesday in what was the second week in a row of shocking eliminations.

I’m starting to doubt the American people’s ability to vote correctly (because up until Chynna’s elimination, I was so impressed …. ) The thing I love about DWTS is beginning to be the thing I hate. I mean, people love choice, and I think part of what is so attractive about this show, besides this

...and this

...oh, and a little bit of this ...

is that it involves choice. As a viewer, if I choose to vote, I’m participating in the show. I get to determine the fate, at least in some small way, of the contestants. Yet, I HATE that the very thing I love—the choice, the opinion, the vote—is the reason the show is so frustrating. It’s the reason Chaz Bono (love him as a person!) is still in the competition, while Chynna and Kristin are in the audience now. In a way, I’m starting to realize it doesn’t matter how good of a dancer these people are. Rather, it’s a popularity contest. And let’s be real here: Popularity contests are only fun for the popular people. Apparently Chynna and Kristin just don’t have the fan base the others do, and while it sure doesn’t seem right to me, the powers that be at DWTS never promised “fair.” So, I wipe my tears for Chynna , I look at a picture of Maks in his jeans last week

...and I’m ready to face the world again. You had a good run, Chynna Phillips, and you’re a class act. Sorry you had to go…

Now onto the show. Tonight is 80’s night. What’s not to love about the 80s? It’s the decade of big hair, puffy bangs, puffy sleeves … puffy everything, monster ballads, unitards, Dirty Dancing, and, of course and most importantly, the decade in which I was born. Oh, and let’s not forget the hallowed Top Gun volleyball scene.

So hats off to DWTS for celebrating this epic era. And, to commemorate tonight’s dances, I’ve decided to give each one an analogous nickname based on my thoughts about the performance.

Let’s jump right in—but feet first and carefully, because we wouldn’t want to ruin our perms.

Maks and Hope tango to Bon Jovi’s “Livin’ On a Prayer”
I’ve decided to call this dance the “Side Ponytail.” It was kinda fun and a little spunky, but more than anything, it just felt awkward and sloppy. Plus, I hate to keep saying it (well, not really), but I still don’t think the two of them have any chemistry whatsoever on the dance floor. Also, Maks had on more makeup than that old, scary lady from the Drew Carey show tonight. Note the comparison:

Oddly enough, he’s still smokin. Their Score: 24, which I felt was right on.

Carson and Anna jive to Wham!’s “Wake Me Up Before You Go Go”
I’m calling this disaster “Electric Eye Shadow” because it seemed like a good idea at the time, but looking back, everyone in the 80s with this eye bling on looked like kids trying on mommy’s makeup.

Thank God I was a baby and too young to wear makeup during the 80s. In Carson’s case with this dance, it was a boy trying on a cheerleader’s uniform. Entertaining? Absolutely. A good idea? Not even close.

But I do have to give a shout-out to the song selection. I LOVE this song, because it takes me back to Zoolander and “orange mocha frappucinos!!!!”

I thought Carson had the time of his LIFE doing that dance. Wearing that costume was most likely the culmination of a lifelong dream, and it showed. He was so cute, and I wish he never had to leave the show. But, unfortunately, he’ll probably go home this week. They received a total of 19 from the judges.

Nancy and Tristan Rumba to Spandau Ballet’s “I Know This Much Is True”
I’m calling this the “Top Gun volleyball scene”: it’s all grit, game and utility. No frills, just raw skill … and a little eye candy to boot.

Their opening package was so cute—definitely the best of the night, although it completely CONFOUNDS me: Nancy has arguably the hottest, sweetest, funniest pro dancer in the WORLD. Yet, she is constantly arguing with him and acting as though everything he asks her to do is complete drudgery. WHAT is WRONG with her??! The dance itself was technically perfect. Hopefully, next time, Nancy will show a little more personality. Because, unless you’re Maverick and Goose of Top Gun fame, you need more than just mad technical skills to carry you through (and Nancy doesn't have Tom Cruise's abs, so she's going to need to ante up in other ways). Nancy and Tristan received a 22 from the judges, which I thought was a bit low.

Oooh the Bangles are singing in between performances! I can’t hear the Bangles without a moment of silence for Rory and Lorelai.

I miss those Gilmore girls!

J.R. and Karina samba to “Conga”
As has become the norm, J.R. and Karina were my favorite dance of the night. I’m calling this samba the Polaroid picture, because homeboy SHOOK it!!!!

J.R. is a natural, and he is SO much fun to watch. I don’t get why the judges are so hard on him—it’s not fair (and I wonder how much of it is scripted). But regardless, he got a 28. Aii Carumba!!

Rob and Cheryl rumba to Lionel Richie’s “Hello”
Embarrassing confession: I LOVE this song. Now that that’s out in the open, let’s move onto the dance, which I’m calling “the double-layer sock.” Why? Because with Rob, you never know what you’re going to get—kinda like when I was 5 and wore two pairs of socks on each foot (pulled over my leggings of course). One day, it might be a leopard-print sock pulled over a bright purple one. The next, I might really throw everyone for a loop and wear polka-dots or stripes. But whatever I wore, I pretty much rocked it. That’s how Rob has been. He was somehow able to pull of sexy and sensual. He earned his score of 25.

Chaz and Lacey samba to Kool & the Gang’s “Get Down on It”
I’m going to call this one the shoulder pad. The shoulder pad had a good run, and let’s face it—we all had some great times rockin the pads (well, maybe all of you over-30 readers?). And no one would ever just throw their shoulder pads out. (My mom has a drawer full of them to prove that point—I swear). So let’s give credit where credit is due … and then retire those bad boys to a place of honor. Pull them out every now and again to smile, say thanks for the memories, and then put them back in their revered place in the drawer. Chaz needs to retire from dancing, because he’s worse than Carson, and that’s pretty bad. The problem with Chaz is that he doesn’t actually dance. He just marches around, and occasionally throws out an arm, or flails his legs about.

I didn’t think their score of 21 was fair—it should’ve been lower than Carson and Anna… Of course, I think Chaz will stay around another week—or more—because he seems to have quite the following. Not fair.

David and Kym tango to Soft Cell’s “Tainted Love”
Ugh, I HATE this song because it reminds me of a really creep guy from my high school days. But enough about me and creepy Steve ... I’m calling their dance “The Plain Scrunchie” because it was very underwhelming, just like an 80’s hairdo pulled up into a ponytail secured with a boring-colored scrunchie. The problem with 80s ponytails fastened with scrunchies is that you can’t really see the scrunchie because the hair is so BIG and the bangs are taking over the head (see below).

That’s how this dance was. The music was loud, the costumes were loud, the attitudes were loud, but the dancing was just “ehhh.”

Sorry David. You know I love you, but you were a total scrunch this week. Maybe better next week? They got a 25, though, which is pretty solid.

Ricki and Derek fox trot to Phil Collins’ “Easy Lover”
Ricki and Derek started off their package by trading stories about what they were up to in the 80s. Derek, like me, was a baby, while Ricki was “eating”?? I guess she was fat or something, but whatever. I’m calling their dance “Hammer Time” because it reminded me of parachute pants.

Everyone messes up sometimes, right? But when you have a good thing going, you keep coming back, and you show everyone that it’s ok to fall down sometimes—as long as you get up. Parachute pants were the 80’s falling down. They were horrible, but thankfully, there were a lot of other great things that pulled the 80s through. Derek and Ricki’s dance, while not awful, wasn’t that great. But these two have delivered every week, so they are allowed their Hammer-time moment. I’m positive they won’t let us down again. They still got a 24, though, because you can't touch this.

Speaking of the 80’s, can we talk about the Footloose remake for a sec? Because WOW! Move over, Kevin Bacon. There’s another new kid in town, and even though I can’t remember his name, he was BRIL! I loved every foot-stomping second. It rocked my face off. And my boots. Julianne Hough was pretty awesome too (love.her).

And the SOUNDTRACK! Just when you think a song can’t get any better, Blake Shelton KILLS Footloose, and newcomer Ella Mae Bowen pulls on your (ok, my) heartstrings with Holding Out for a Hero. Check this out. It gives me chills and may just be my new fave song.

I am SO glad they weren’t afraid to respectfully improve on an old classic.

xoxo

Dancing With The Stars: The OFFICIAL blog :)

2011-10-11T14:05:00.001-04:00

I’m sure you’re all wondering a couple of things, not the least of which is “why would you blog about a reality TV show when there are so many other things going on in your own life to write about??” ….

Ummmm … next question, please.

No, actually, what happened is this: My friend Terri and I were emailing back and forth, discussing what we’re watching on television this fall. The list is short for both of us. Terri is married, and happily watches Monday night football with her hubby. She also watches The Office. For me, it’s Dancing with the Stars and Grey’s Anatomy. She asked me to fill her in on DWTS, because pre-marriage, she LOVED to watch it, but doesn’t anymore as it interferes with Monday Night Football. So, I gave her a rundown of the most recent episode, the contestants, and my generally unfiltered thoughts about each.

And then I thought, hey! Why don’t I just blog about it?? At least then I’d be posting something. Not that I’m foregoing blogging about all the other things I mentioned in my last blog, because I will still do that. But on Monday nights, I’ll also be sharing my thoughts about the show I love to love, Dancing with the Stars (henceforth to be known as DWTS).

“If you wanted to write about the show, why didn’t you start at the beginning of the season?”

Well, one never knows when inspiration will strike, and far be it from me to call inspiration tardy.

So without any further ado, let’s get to the show. Here are this year’s “stars” (I use the term loosely—some of the professional dancers have much more celebrity than their “celebrity” partners) and their dance partners:

Carson Kressley (star) and Anna Trebunskaya (dancer)

Chaz Bono and Lacey Schwimmer

David Arquette and Kym Johnson

Elisabetta Canalis and Val Chmerkovskiy—ELIMINATED

Hope Solo and Maksim Chmerkovskiy

JR Martinez and Karina Smirnoff

Kristin Cavallari and Mark Ballas—GONZO

Nancy Grace and Tristan MacManus

Ricki Lake and Derek Hough

Rob Kardashian and Cheryl Burke

Meta World Peace (the basketball player formerly known as Ron Artest) and Peta Murgatroyd—PEACED OUT

Chynna Philips and Tony Dovolani

Let’s get this party started! Tonight, we’re “going to the movies” with the stars, as they dance to famous musical scores.

My thoughts during tonight’s show…

Brooke Burke’s dress: Is it just me, or is one sleeve falling off? Oh, nope—sure isn’t! My dad just walked through the room and said, “doesn’t she feel her dress falling off?” Well Dad, Brooke isn’t the sharpest tool in the shed. She probably forgot to finish dressing … What? I’m just saying what you were all thinking ...

And the first couple to dance is ….

Chynna and Tony
During practice: Geeze, Tony—simma down now! I think he was getting in the dominant-male Tango character a little early. Maybe wait till the actual competition to get in character, mmmkay Tony? They dance to Mission Impossible. Chynna is sweet, and I love her, but wow that dance was really bad. The judges agree. I had high hopes for Chynna a nd Tony tonight, but as Len said, “It all went up the swanny river.” I have no idea what that means, but I think I agree. “A beautiful mess” is what this dance was--it takes still to make screwing up look pretty, and Chynna does that. Triple 7s from the judges for a total of 21 (in case second-grade math isn't your thing).

David and Kym
David Arquette cracks me up in his Indiana Jones get-up. I'm pretty sure he’s perpetually high, but I still think he's pretty great (hey, we all have our vices). I loved their dance tonight. And the judges (and audience, by the sound of it) agreed. Perhaps if I can’t become a contestant on the show, I can be a judge. Just a little food for thought, ABC… But enough about me. YAY David!! I love you. I love Courtney. And I love her tears every week because she’s so proud of him. I’m not sure who I’m voting for yet tonight as far as the dancers go, but I AM rooting for David and Courtney to work out their marriage. The score: 23

Carson and Anna
I smile just thinking about watching Carson dance. He is as gay as the day is long, and loving every second of his DWTS experience, except for the fact that he is partnered with a girl (he was pulling for Maks. I get you, Carson. I really do.). As one of the judges said last week, Carson puts the “boy” in “flamboyant.” So true. The dance: Bless Carson’s heart—he really tries! Some people just aren’t made for dancing, and unfortunately for Carson (and Anna), Carson is one of those people. Their dance to the theme from Pirates of the Caribbean earned them a 20 and a horribly mean-yet-funny comment from Judge Len: “Watching this dance was like childbirth: awful and painful while it’s happening, and a huge relief when it’s over.” :( I still love you, Carson.

Nancy and Tristan
Ahhh Tristan…Methinks I’m in love with this Irish wonder. Sorry Maks, but you have some competition. Tristan, you are a miracle worker! I think Nancy is a tough student, but he does a lot to make her better. Nice chest, Trist. (Can I call you Trist?); I appreciated the costume. The dance was to the theme from Flash Gordon (am I the only one who has no idea what that is?) and get a 21—not too shabby. May the luck o' the Irish be with you tonight, Tristan. And Nancy.

Hope and Maks
Be still my beating heart. Ok, I need to get serious for a minute here. I’m going to throw something out there that I’ve been thinking since the beginning of the season. If you don’t like it, that’s ok. But hear me out: I don’t think Maks is having as much fun dancing and performing with Hope as he did with Kirstie Alley last season. And, somehow—impossibly, in my opinion, the chemistry Maks and Kirstie had is light years ahead of what Maks and Hope have. Maybe I’m covered in a blind haze of jealous denial, but I don’t know …

Oh dear God, those jeans! All thoughts of Tristan magically fade away ...

Ok, back to what I was saying. I loved watching Maks and Kirstie. They at least gave the appearance that they loved dancing together, and I believe they really did. Every time they came out on the dance floor, it was magic. But back to tonight: This was Hope’s best dance in my opinion. She didn’t look as stiff or uncomfortable as usual, and they did look like they were having fun. The 24 they got from the judges was well deserved, and it placed them at the top of the board. They had the best dance of the night so far to a song from Toy Story.

Rob and Cheryl
I’m always torn as to whether or not I like Rob. But my feelings aside, I thought he did a great job tonight! He surprised me by being able to pull off the Superman theme he was portraying. Aside from Carson, Rob is probably the last guy I would’ve put in the Superman role. But he proved me wrong. Nice, R-Dash! 24, tied with Maks and Hope.

Ricki and Derek
It's official: I’m jealous of Ricki Lake—never thought I’d hear myself say that. But I love Derek. And, I have new respect for the dancers now, after finding out in Ricki and Derek’s package that the dancers choreograph as they go, each week. What?!?? Amazeballs! WOO! TWO TENS!!!!!! I love these guys. And I am SO qualified to be a judge, because I totally called those 10's. 29, baby!! Ricki’s adorbs. Derek is hot. I wish they were the same age and would start dating. No, I take that back. Derek and I already are the same age. How about WE start dating? Derek? Derek? …. Anyone??

Chaz and Lacey
I’m nervous. I just have to say that … Poor Chaz. He’s not so good at the dancing. And I bet he feels bad that Kristin went home last week and he didn’t. If life was fair, the low scorer would go home each week, but DWTS isn’t fair, and Chaz is still there… He’s making the best of it, although I wonder if he wouldn’t rather be done with this competition. I like his attitude, though, and I hope he does better tonight. Does anyone else think Cher looks like a Halloween costume? Sorry, that was mean. But seriously. She’s kinda scaring me. Anyhoo, Chaz and Lacey's dance to Rocky was so-so, but he really gave it his best, and that’s pretty awesome. They got a 21 from the judges.

JR and Karina
They might possibly be my favorite couple—or at least tied with Ricki and Derek. I LOVED it. They told the Pink Panther story, they danced really well. Loved every second. I can’t believe Judge Carie doesn’t agree! Thankfully, Len, Bruno and I are on the same page. Carie—get your eyes checked, silly girl! The score of 26 would've been higher if I was judging, but I'm still waiting on the call from ABC. I'll keep you posted ...

I split my 12 votes in half tonight: six for Ricki (or Derek…) and six for JR. My prediction is that Carson, Rob or Nancy goes home tonight, but I was shocked last week, so you never know! Tune in to ABC at 8 EST to find out.

So many blog ideas, so little time!

2011-10-10T11:40:00.001-04:00

Oh dear.

Here it is, October 10th, and I haven't blogged in two months. Unacceptable! I have so much to write about, but I just haven’t had the time to write! My last few weeks in Basel were crazy (in a good way), and I’ve been going nonstop since I got back to the U.S. Long on blog fodder; short on time. So, just as a little preview, and to get myself back in the swing of things, here are the topics I plan to blog about over the next few weeks, in no particular order:

1. My trip to Germany, which included Munich, the Neuschwanstein Castle (Walt Disney’s fairytale castle!) and the Dachau concentration camp

2. Paris, the city of love. Or is it the city of light? I can’t really be sure, but all I DO know is that I loved it. So we’ll go with “city of love.”

3. My last few weeks in Basel, and all the fun I had

4. Why I’m going to Romania in December (because people keep asking)

5. The books I’ve read lately—I’ve been reading a ton (um, this could also be why I haven’t blogged lately …), and most of them have been blog-worthy

6. NYC! (Just got back from an awesome trip with Terri)

7. Dancing with the Stars. Maybe. I don’t want to step over the edge I’ve been precariously hanging onto into complete loserdom by blogging about a reality TV show. But I do watch the show. And I do have a lot of thoughts (some nice, some not-so-kind, some funny, some not-so-humorous) that I share with my friend and fellow blogger Terri. So why not just put them into a blog? At least it’ll get me blogging regularly, and who knows. Perhaps I’ll become famous as the Dancing with the Stars blogger, and my stardom will land me a spot on the show. Obviously my partner will be Maksim Chmerkovskiy.

Or Derek Hough.

Or Tristan MacManus.

I won’t be choosey.

I’ll be back soon. I promise.

xoxo!

La Dolce Vita kicks La Vida Loca’s butt. Sorry, Ricky Martin …

2011-08-05T10:58:00.003-04:00

As a now-seasoned(ish) world traveler, I think I’ve reached the point where I can compare and contrast the places I’ve been and opine about each one. I hope it’s not too premature for that.

Last week, I returned to Cinque Terre, Italy, and while I was there, the phrase “La Dolce Vita,” or “the sweet life” was constantly on my mind. Why? Because Italy is unique from anywhere else I’ve ever been. They not only live a less stressful, “hakuna matata” (I’ll always love the Lion King) lifestyle—they embody it. I think it’s foundational to the very core of who the Italians in this region are. “Sweet” is the perfect way to describe their lifestyle. It’s simple. It’s friendly. It’s open. It’s beautiful. It’s fun. It’s relaxed... It’s sweet.

“La Vida Loca,” or “the crazy life,” which is more descriptive of the Mexican/Central/South American lifestyle, is a whole different world. It’s a fun world too—trust me, my weeks in Cancun, Mexico have been anything but dull! But if I had to choose between La Dolce Vita and La Vida Loca, there’s no contest—I’m going with sweet over crazy every time. (Note to self: I should also keep this in mind when it comes to dating decisions.)

Mom arrived in Switzerland last Thursday morning, and we left for Italy that same night (looking back, I realize a day to relax and get settled in probably would’ve been nice. I’m still working on living la dolce vita. Sorry, mom!). We arrived just outside of Lake Como, in a quaint village called Bellagio, after midnight.

Our hotel there, Borgo Le Terrazze, was sweet. And I don’t mean sweet solely in the way I was using it above. I also mean it in the, “Dude, this place is SWEET!” way. The room was decorated in traditional Mediterranean coastal style with a bit of a rustic, breezy feel, and the view was … well, why don’t I just show you.

It’s obvious to me now why George Clooney loves Lake Como so much. Not that I ever doubted his impeccable taste … well, except for the fact that he still hasn’t proposed to me. But we’ll chalk that one up to the lack of an introduction.

Now here’s a winning combination.

Anyhoo.

We spent part of the day exploring the Bellagio/Lake Como area, had lunch on the lake, window shopped and people watched. Mom kept saying, “this place is so beautiful—I wish we could stay!” and while I agreed that it was beautiful there, I also knew where we were headed. I told her to just trust me, because as impossible as it was to imagine, we were about to step into an entirely different world in Cinque Terre that she’d never want to leave.

As a side note, though, I would love to spend more time in Lake Como. In addition to the scenery, hiking, swimming, boating and other fun lake activities, I’d really like to give Clooney the opportunity to meet me. Maybe next year …

We left Lake Como in the afternoon and drove three hours to Cinque Terre, where we were staying in the most northwest village, Monterosso al Mare. The place I booked for us to stay was actually a Bed & Breakfast, La Serra sul Mare, and I couldn’t wait to see it based on all the reviews I’d read. And we weren’t disappointed! “A room with a view” doesn’t do it justice. See for yourself.

We spent the next three days soaking up every ounce of sun, sand and Mediterranean Sea we could, basking in the perfection of livin’ La Dolce Vita. We hiked, we boated, we swam, we laid in the sun, we shopped, we ate gelato, we were serenaded by an old, Italian man with his guitar (in eight languages no less), we mingled with locals and tourists alike as we strolled up and down the streets of the Cinque Terre villages each evening after another gourmet meal, we met and talked to people from all over the world ... it was everything a vacation should be, except not nearly long enough.

I won’t go into too much detail about all we did, saw, and the people we met along the way—you really need to experience it for yourself. But I will share pictures below, and tell you about one activity we did, which we still can’t stop talking about because mom and I both agree it was the best day either of us has had in ages—so much fun!

The tour was with a company called “Angelo’s Boat Tours” and I discovered it by chance when I googled “boat tours Cinque Terre.” I thought it’d be nice to go out on a boat one day. Fellow travelers on the Tripadvisor.com forum (my travel Bible) had only good things to say about the tour, so I signed us up.

Best. Day. EVER!

The boat’s captain is a guy name Angelo, and his family has lived in Cinque Terre for generations. He’s about as local as they come. Every stereotype of an Italian man that you can imagine fits Angelo—all in one incredibly fun, charming and hilarious package.

Angelo’s wife Paula (an American who met him during a vacation to Italy years ago) is a talented chef who prepares all the food for the day on the boat. Linda, Paula’s cousin, was Angelo’s “co-captain” and our hostess for the day on the boat. She had the perfect personality for the job.

There were twelve of us total on the boat, representing all different corners of the world (Brazil, Ireland, Italy and the U.S.)—ranging in age from 20 to 80. After just a few minutes and as a definite testament to Linda’s perfect hostessing (totally a word), everyone was interacting and having a great time.

The tour itself was great—we learned some of the history of the region while seeing the most beautiful scenery—cliffs that jut out into the clearest, bluest water I’ve ever seen. Mom and I tried to figure out a way to describe the color of the water, and the best we could come up with was “it looks like a liquid sapphire—but prettier!”

Besides the awesome captain, hostess, new friends and AMAZING food, the best part of the tour was getting to stop and swim at different coves. Angelo had rafts on board for those who wanted to float in the sun, snorkeling equipment for anyone who wanted to be more active and plenty of adult beverages for those wanting to stay on board. (Those of us swimming in the water enjoyed a few beverages of our own too---don’t you worry.)

I can’t imagine a better day—we are still talking about it as one of the best days we’ve had in a long time.

P.S. I’m still waiting on Angelo’s son to call me (in 2011 lingo: facebook friend request me). While we were on the tour, mom and I had a conversation that went something like this:

Carly: I don’t want to leave here. Ever. Tell Dad, Nick and Pete I love them, but if they ever want to see me again, they’ll need to buy a plane ticket to Italy.

Mom: You need to do what Paula did—find an Italian guy while you’re here, fall in love and get married! Oh! I have an idea!

Mom: Hey Angelo—do you know any single guys you could introduce my daughter to??

Carly: Oh dear God, make it stop.

Angelo: Oooh, I wish I could introduce you to my son, but he’s too old for you. He’s 28.

Carly: Bless your Italian heart, Angelo. But 28 is not too old for me.

Angelo: I thought you were 20!

Carly: I’d like to marry YOU!

Angelo: I’ll be right back.

He leaves, and I’m left looking at mom, wondering what Angelo is up to. A few minutes later I’d nearly forgotten about the whole, random conversation when Angelo is next to me, thrusting a cell phone into my hands.

Angelo: Here, say hello to my son.

Carly: WHAT?? ::skeptically takes the phone, because you can’t argue with Angelo; trust me on that one:: Ummm, hello?

Strange boy on the phone who I don’t know: Hey! Soooo, this is kinda awkward.

Carly: ::nervous laughter:: yeah … just a little

We went on to have a short, yet fairly normal conversation despite the total abnormality of the situation. My mom sat there mouthing “I’M SO SORRY” the whole time. And Angelo was just grinning from ear to ear. From what Angelo tells me, though, his son David is quite the hottie. If he hadn’t been in London, I would’ve loved to meet him. So, David, if you’re out there somewhere reading this, feel free to track me down on facebook. ;)

Ciao bellas!! Enjoy the pics. I'm sure you'll be able to tell just by looking that mom and I are having an amazing time. I just wish she could stay longer and we could visit some other places ... or, let's be honest, just go back to Cinque Terre and never leave.

More pictures to follow soon on facebook!

xoxo

Naked statues, nudie beaches and Speedos—oh my! How Italy literally changed my life …

2011-07-20T07:16:00.003-04:00

Hello, dear readers! You’ve probably forgotten about my promise to finish the grand European vacation summary with an account of my adventures in Florence and Cinque Terre. I know I did—well, almost. Lucky for you, my memory is firing on all cylinders today…

Before I jump in, I just need to say that I’M WATCHING YOU. No, that’s weird. But seriously. Blogger has this tracking thing that provides a report of how many people look at my blog, how many “hits” per day and even where the traffic is coming from (which websites refer people and which countries the viewers are in). It’s pretty cool! I’ve seen a huge increase in traffic to my blog from all over the world (which is neat-o, but also slightly creepy as I am positive I don’t have friends in Saudi Arabia, Russia or Denmark at this point). So, as long as you’re not a stalker, welcome to my blog! I hope you enjoy random musings from a silly American girl. And hey! How about a comment every once in awhile?

Back to it.

Florence was an oddly fascinating jumble of smells—sewage, tropical flowers and fresh dough were the three that stood out most. It wasn’t exactly a pleasant experience when I took a deep breath of doughy air only to realize at the end of the breath that it was no longer delicious, yeasty dough I was breathing in, but rather sewage from the nearest apartment building’s obviously worn-out pipes. I tried to stop taking so many deep breaths. But let me tell you, when the scent of flowers wafted through the air toward my nose, it was intoxicating. It actually reminded me of the smell of plumeria that permeates Hawaii. Oh, but wait. There’s that sewage again. So NOT Hawaii. But then again, Hawaii doesn’t have sculptures crafted by Michelangelo or two thousand year old buildings … or gelato. So, I’m not taking sides here.

Our first full day in Florence, Amanda and I went to a cooking class. It’s been a lifelong dream of mine to take a cooking class in Tuscany (see Bucket List post from a couple weeks ago). And while a half-day class only scratched the surface, it was by far one of the BEST days of our entire trip. The chef’s name is Melanie, and she’s an American who married an Italian years ago and moved to Italy to be with him. Their love story is one that rivals any fairytale (well, except maybe Beauty and the Beast, because clearly, nothing could rival that one …). I think someone should write a book about them, or at least a blog. But that’s another topic for another day. Anyway, she was amazing. If you’re ever in Florence or anywhere close to it, spend a day with Melanie in her outdoor kitchen in the middle of an olive grove with a view of the Tuscan countryside better than anything you’ll see in any photographs. Not only will you taste some of the best food of your LIFE, but you’ll get to experience the Tuscan culture as it’s meant to be experienced, and that’s a priceless way to spend a day. Some photos from our day together …

Did I mention we made gelato?

I’m totally buying a gelato machine once I get back to the United States.

After our amazing cooking class, we took a self-guided tour through Florence. And by “self-guided” I mean that we tried to get from the Uffizi Gallery to a famous garden whose name I can’t remember and spent hours wandering around, lost. Florence is a really confusing city, and I don’t think it was just me. But then again, I didn’t see anyone else who looked lost, so maybe it was. But regardless, getting lost is sometimes the best thing in the world in a new city (except that time I got lost in Chicago and ended up somewhere that resembled Detroit’s Eight Mile (sup, Eminem) on a bad day—that wasn’t good.) But in Florence, it was great! We ended up seeing all sorts of sights. Mainly really magnificent ancient buildings and naked statues. I’m not sure why, but the Italians REALLY love naked-man statues. Here I am trying to pull off a David.

Sometimes I wonder what I was thinking at the time. Do I seriously have no shame or sense of trying to NOT look like a tourist?? Oh well, the entire cast of Jersey Shore was in town the same time as me, so I’m positive I was less of an embarrassment to America than they were. After all, it’s all about comparisons …

I’m not sure I’ve given you any great insights into the city of Florence through this blog so far. So let me try to summarize before we move onto Cinque Terre. Florence is a beautiful city—larger than most other Tuscan cities with a mingling of rich, poor, pristine and gritty areas. It’s a place where some of the most magnificent artists in the world practiced their craft and left their mark on a world that will never be the same because of their skill. From Masaccio to Donatello to Michelangelo, if you want to see some of the most breathtaking art in the world, Florence is your place. Chapels, sculptures, paintings, architecture and more await you there. Along with real-life flavor of a big, Italian city with a lot of character, great food and friendly Italian people, Florence should be added to your bucket list of places to go before you die. And if you make it there, make sure you eat at Pitti Gola e Cantina. You won’t regret it (And the owners—three young guys—are super cute in case you’re interested in a little Italian eye candy. I’m just sayin’…).

Last but not least is possibly my favorite place in the world: The Cinque Terre on the Italian Riviera. I don’t actually have a lot to say about this place—not because I couldn’t go on and on about it—I think we all know I could. But I just don’t think my words could ever do it justice. This is a place you have to see to believe. It’s as if when God created it, He thought to Himself, “I’m going to make a place that, if I ever decide to leave heaven and live on earth for awhile, I wouldn’t get homesick because it looks exactly like home,” and thus, Cinque Terre was made. (A little trivia in case you’re ever on Jeopardy: Cinque Terre means "The Five Lands" and is composed of five villages: Monterosso al Mare, Vernazza, Corniglia, Manarola and Riomaggiore.)

I’ll just tell you one story about a life-altering experience I had while hiking the trail between the five towns that make up the Cinque Terre—a moment where something fundamental changed within me, and I don’t think I’ll never be the same again. It summarizes my time there …

I was hiking along the trail that hugs the cliffs of Cinque Terre and overlooks the Mediterranean Sea (which is, by the way, the clearest, bluest water I’ve ever seen). Amanda and I were fairly silent, because like I said, there’s just not much you can say when you come face-to-face with that kind of beauty and the utter magnificence of God’s creation. As we were walking, we had to be careful in some places, because the trail was steep or wearing away. It was at one of these parts I was looking down so as not to face plant and ruin my communion with nature. As I was about to take my next step, I saw a little spider making its way along the trail too, and my right foot came to a stop in mid air. I stared at the spider, and for the first time in my life, I didn’t feel compelled to kill it. In fact, I felt just the opposite. And not out of fear (the only reason I’ve ever let spiders live in the past), but because I was so overwhelmed by the beauty of the place—the raw, unadulterated, unblemished perfection of it—that I could never deprive any living thing of it. If that spider was lucky enough to live there, then shame on anyone who would intentionally take that away. I let a spider live so that it could experience the joy of living in that perfect place.

Cinque Terre changed me …

You can get an idea of why that happened from the pictures below. But I implore you--Go! See it for yourself!

Lest I end this blog on too serious a note and make you wonder “Who is writing this blog and what have they done with Carly?” let me tell you a couple other things about Cinque Terre: There is a nudie beach that apparently is one of the best beaches on the Italian Riviera. I didn’t test that opinion out last trip, but maybe when my mom comes to visit and we go back, we’ll check it out(kidding, mom). There are hand-painted signs all along the hiking trail that direct you to the naked beach. Obviously I’m five years old and thought it was funny, so I took a picture of one.

Second, God bless America for board shorts. If I see one more fat man in a little Euro-Speedo, I will literally barf. But hey—if I have to see it, so do you. :D Enjoy!

Next week, my mom will be here, and I’m SO excited to take her to Cinque Terre and share the magic with her. I’ll post pictures and let you know if I have anymore life-changing revelations.

Until next time, ciao!

xoxo

Carly

Superfood me!

2011-07-11T05:02:00.003-04:00

I think unless you’ve been living under a rock or inside a McDonald’s for the last two years, you’re familiar with the concept of superfoods (or is it super foods? I can’t be sure …). Basically, these are the foods you should eat if you want to be super healthy, super young-looking, super thin and super smart. These foods encompass all that is good in the world of food. And the best part? Most of them taste super good, or can be doctored to the point they are at least not gag-inducing.

When I moved to Switzerland, I was determined to hop aboard the superfood train and make an effort to incorporate at least some of these foods into each meal. Sounds complicated, right? Well, let me just say that I’ve found it to be simpler than I imagined. And if I, the list-it-and-ditch-it-extraordinaire, can stick with it, anyone can. Trust me. This has been simple because of the delicious recipes I’m using, so it doesn’t feel like I’m sacrificing my taste buds on the altar of healthy eating.

The superfood I’ve been most surprised to enjoy is spinach. Popeye’s momma didn’t raise no fool. It’s good for you, and it can REALLY taste good! I wouldn’t lie to you (and neither would Popeye). I have a “recipe” below for my tomato-spinach-whole wheat pasta I make at least three nights a week for dinner. For someone who loves variety, that’s saying something.

Before we get to it, here are the most commonly agreed on superfoods:

Drinks: red wine, green tea

Vegetables: avocado, broccoli, onions, peppers, soy, spinach, sprouts, sweet potatoes, pumpkin, tomatoes

Fruits: açai, apples, blueberries, pomegranates, pumpkin, kiwi, oranges

Meat: wild salmon, turkey

Dairy: eggs, low-fat Greek yogurt, milk

Legumes/Nuts/Grains: beans, barley, seeds, walnuts, almonds, lentils, oats, buckwheat, whole wheat, wild rice and millet

Spices/Misc.: cinnamon, dark chocolate, garlic, honey, extra virgin, cold-pressed olive oil, sea salt

Here’s a sample menu of how I incorporate superfoods into my meals every day. I’ve been eating mostly vegetarian since I got here (with an occasional cheeseburger—what? I was raised in the Midwest, so I’m entitled to some high-quality beef every now and then, right? By the way, cheeseburgers aren't acknowleged as a superfood ... yet). I’ve included some non-veggie options too, though, in case you prefer meat.

Breakfast

Option 1: Oatmeal with 1 Tablespoon ground flaxseed; 1 teaspoon cinnamon, ¾ Cup skim milk, 1/3 Cup berries, 2 teaspoons honey

Option 2: Muesli with 1 Cup Greek yogurt and ½ Cup berries

Option 3: “flaxjacks”—flaxseed pancakes. These can be made on the weekend when you have more time, and frozen then toasted throughout the week. Use honey rather than sugar in the recipes that call for sugar.

Some recipes:
Maple-walnut and flaxseed pancakes (make sure you use whole wheat flour in this one)

Banana flaxseed pancaked with blackberry syrup (YUM!)

Flaxseed pancakes

Option 4: Hard-boiled egg with side of berries and Greek yogurt/honey

Mid-morning snack

Option 1: ½ raw pepper—or a whole one if you’re hungry

Option 2: 1 Cup cherry tomatoes

Option 3: 1 Cup raw broccoli

Lunch

Option 1: egg salad sandwich (make egg salad ahead of time and store in the fridge for a couple days at a time. I make my egg salad with Greek yogurt, mustard, green peppers [or some other crunchy vegetable], cucumbers and DILL) on whole wheat bread; 1 piece fruit; small piece dark chocolate

Option 2: broiled wild-caught Alaskan salmon, 1 Cup steamed broccoli; 1 piece fruit; small piece dark chocolate

Option 3: large green salad topped with kidney beans, sprouts, avocado, tomato, hard-boiled egg and anything else that tickles your fancy (yes, I just said “tickles your fancy”. It makes me smile.); 1 piece fruit; small piece dark chocolate

Option 4: turkey sandwich (but you have to use fresh turkey—not lunch meat packed with fillers and hormones and other nasty stuff) with spinach, mustard, tomato and sprouts on whole wheat bread; 1 piece fruit; small piece dark chocolate

Mid-afternoon snack

Option 1: Taste of Nature fruit/nut bar; 1 Cup pomegranate or orange juice

Option 2: ½ Cup Greek yogurt with 10 walnuts or almonds, ¼ Cup dried fruit and drizzled with honey

Option 3: 1 Apple with 1 Tablespoon almond butter (make sure you buy the kind with no sugar added)

Dinner

Option 1: Whole wheat pasta with fresh spinach, tomatoes and basil. This is my recipe, so the quantities probably aren’t exact since I never measure anything. (Sorry, dad—I know you taught me better than that!)

For one person:
¾ Cup uncooked whole wheat pasta—I like to use penne
1.5 Cups uncooked spinach
1 small-to-medium tomato, chopped
7 fresh basil leaves (buy a basil plant—it’s a good investment and easy to keep alive)
1 Tablespoon olive oil
1/8 Cup fresh mozzarella (the kind that comes in water), cubed
Minced Garlic (however much you prefer)

Step one: Boil water and cook whole wheat pasta according to package

Step two: As soon as you put the pasta in the water to cook, chop tomatoes and set aside.

Step three: Heat olive oil in skillet. Saute garlic in it for approx. three minutes. Add tomatoes.

Step four: Once tomatoes look nearly finished cooking (after three-to-five minutes), add spinach. When spinach is almost wilted, throw in basil leaves. Saute everything together for about two minutes, throw in the mozzarella for 30 seconds or so, then pour everything over your whole wheat pasta.

Bon Apetit! Enjoy it with a side of fruit.

Option 2: Omelet with tomatoes, spinach, onions and peppers; whole wheat toast with olive oil; side of fruit

Option 3: Large green salad with avocado, tomato, sprouts, feta cheese, lemon juice and balsamic vinegar; side of whole wheat bread dipped in olive oil; fruit

Option 4: Pasta with walnut pesto, sausage and broccoli rabe—I haven’t made this yet, but I’m DYING to try it out (minus the sausage)

Any of the lunch options work for dinner too. Oh, and have a glass of red wine with dinner for extra antioxidants … and delicious hapiness.

SUPER easy! Now go superfood yourself …

xoxo
Super Carly

P.S. Read more about superfoods here and here. Or, just google it and see for yourself—there is a ton of super info out there. Have a super day! ;)

"A dangerous dreamer:" Some things I wanna do before I kick the bucket …

2011-07-05T10:27:00.004-04:00

All men dream but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds wake in the day to find that it was vanity; but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act their dream with open eyes to make it possible.
T.E. Lawrence

I’m a dreamer. Always have been; always will be. The first time I heard of a bucket list, though, I was slightly put off by the idea—it just seemed so morbid to itemize the things I want to do before I die, as though it’s some race to make sure I accomplish my dreams in case I meet an untimely end. But then I thought about it some more and realized it’s actually a pretty great idea. Why not dream big and then set out to reach those dreams—whether I live to be 30 or 103? Too many people have dreams they never realize. Even worse, some people don’t dream at all.

For me, dreams are equivalent to goals. If I dream something for long enough, I do everything I can to turn it into reality. So, I started my bucket list a long time ago. It began with just a few things, but I’ve slowly added to it over the years. As my desires turn into reality, I put a check next to them, but I leave them on the list to remind myself to always, always dream, and never stop chasing those dreams. I have them for a reason.

Below is my bucket list. Then, some of my favorite quotes about dreaming.

Do you have a bucket list? If so, what’s on it? If not, why don’t you have one? E-mail me or comment—I’d love to hear what other people have on their lists.

I have spread my dreams beneath your feet. Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.
William Butler Yeats

My Bucket List

Learn a foreign language, then visit the country where I can converse with native speakers

Live in Europe (Did it!)

Compete in a dance competition

Go canyoning in the Alps (Did it!)

Adopt a child

Dance in the rain

Attend surf school

Go on safari in Africa

Drive a car over 100 miles per hour

Be in two places at once (and capture it on camera!)

Set foot in every U.S. state

See a U2 concert in Ireland

Swim with dolphins

Take a cooking class in Italy (Did it!)

Compete in a triathlon

Spend Christmas in the Austrian Tyrol

See 4th of July fireworks in New York City

Live in New York City

Skinny dip in the ocean

Make a wish on a falling star (Did it!)

See a whale playing in the ocean (Did it!)

Spend the night on the beach under the stars

Take a trip around the world

Write a book

Swim in the Mediterranean Sea (Did it!)

Be baptized in the Sea of Gallilee

Our truest life is when we are in dreams awake.
Henry David Thoreau

Man cannot discover new oceans unless he has the courage to lose sight of the shore.
Andre Gide

Life is full of beauty. Notice it. Notice the bumble bee, the small child, and the smiling faces. Smell the rain, and feel the wind. Live your life to the fullest potential, and fight for your dreams.
Ashley Smith

The best thing about dreams is that fleeting moment, when you are between asleep and awake, when you don't know the difference between reality and fantasy, when for just that one moment you feel with your entire soul that the dream is reality, and it really happened.
Unknown

There are some people who live in a dream world, and there are some who face reality; and then there are those who turn one into the other.
Douglas H. Everett

Dreams are illustrations from the book your soul is writing about you.
Marsha Norman

Happy 4th of July! An ode to my homeland …

2011-07-01T05:50:00.002-04:00

It’s the 4th of July (well, almost), and for the first time in my life, I’m not celebrating the birth of my country with other Americans, in America. Last year, I spent the day on the lake sailing with some of my closest friends and the night around a bonfire. It was perfect. I miss my friends and family this year, I miss the fireworks, and of course I miss the BBQs that no one does as well as Americans (sorry rest of the world!). I also miss having the day off work. What? I had to say it. I’d like to propose that Independence Day becomes an international holiday. Every country should celebrate the birthplace of Friends, college football tailgates (the real football ;), electricity and yours truly(random list, I know).

Right? Everyone who’s with me, say “I”! Anyone?

Anyone?

Bueller??

Ok, never mind that. Today is about being proud to be an American. And while I’m not about to get all misty-eyed and quote Lee Greenwood (although I couldn’t resist adding him to my patriotic playlist. And don’t you DARE mute it, or Uncle Sam will hunt. You. DOWN.), I AM going to pay homage to my great country by doing a blog about the good ole U. S. of A. They say life is about the simple pleasures. If you’ve known me five minutes, you know I agree with that. So, here are a few of the simple pleasures I miss about America.

Ice, Ice Baby …

NOT Vanilla Ice, sillies—but actual ice. The kind you fill your glass with and pour tea over or add to a blender to mix up the perfect margarita.

Mmmm, ice. So smooth. So refreshing. Literally melts in your mouth. It’s like the zero-calorie dessert! Hey, maybe I could start a business over here selling ice! I’ll call it “a chip off the old block” (that literally just came to me and may or may not need a little work.) I really just have a hard time wrapping my mind around how, in a country with literally NO air conditioning, there is also no (okay, very little—some restaurants have it) ice. I thought Western Europe was supposed to be all progressive and stuff … well you show me ice, and I’ll show you progressive. I miss ice.

Sweet southern comfort
Not the whiskey. Gross. Sweet tea! I miss it so very, very much. I know that’s bad, and Sweet Tea and I really needed some time apart. We agreed to use the distance as a time to reevaluate whether or not our relationship was a healthy one (it is not). And this break has been good for us—really, it has. After the withdrawals were over, I hardly even thought about Sweet Tea anymore.

Until this week.

It’s been 94 degrees, and I’m only human! I would really, really love a glass of cold sweet tea with two lemon slices right about now. I’m going to stay strong, though. It won’t be easy, but I will NOT go home and make my own sweet tea tonight. (But only because there is no ice with which to enjoy it.)

Kaia
Since Independence Day is all about celebrating freedom, I’d be remiss not to mention my own version of freedom: a set of wheels. In case you haven’t met her yet, allow me to introduce you to Kaia.

She may not be flashy, fast or anyone’s dream car, but she gets me where I want to go, when I want to go there. And that’s why I love her.

I also love the freedom to sing my heart out at the top of my lungs whenever I’m driving around town to whatever music catches my fancy that day—usually it’s T-Swift or the Dirty Dancing soundtrack, but I like to mix it up sometimes … Unfortunately, I don’t think the Swiss are big on public displays of interpretive singing/dancing on their trams and buses. So until I get home, I’m singing and dancing on the inside.

My Big, Fat, Greek Wedding
No, I’m not getting married. I’m not even Greek. But I always said my Italian(ish) family reminds me of the family in that movie, and the meals we make and eat together could rival any Greek celebration.

So, I miss that. Not just the home cooking, but what it means to spend a day in the kitchen cooking together, eating together, laughing, joking—all of it. I cook for myself here, but my very miniature college-dorm-room sized refrigerator makes it impossible to keep a lot of variety on hand. And, what fun is it to cook for one?

English speaking television
Now you know I’m not big on spending hours and hours in front of the TV. However, I’d at least like to have the option! Here, I get two channels in English: The Bloomberg network (snoozefest) and MTV (16 and Pregnant? Really, America? We’re watching that crap? Oh sorry, I’m supposed to be saying nice things about my homeland). When forced to choose between the two, I pick watching cartoons in German. But I digress. I think it’s time to move onto my next point …

Affordable food and entertainment
Everything is SO expensive here!!! How much do you think it costs to go see a movie? About $35 dollars. PER. PERSON! How much do you think it costs to go out to dinner at a middle-of-the-road restaurant? At least $35 per person, and that wouldn’t include a glass of wine at most places. It’s unreal. What do people do on dates here?? I mean, I’ve never been a big fan of the typical, completely cliché “dinner and a movie” first date. But you wouldn’t even have that option here. And I’m all about options. Hmmm maybe I’ll go on a date while I’m here and I can report back on what we did. Hopefully something imaginative like strolling along the banks of the Rhine followed by a wine and cheese picnic. How fun would that be??

::extracting myself from fantasy land and returning to the bright light of harsh reality now::

Deodorant and American hygiene
Ok, I’m not going to be gross and go into detail here, but let’s just say that most Americans appreciate a good shower. A good, DAILY shower. Some of us even shower twice a day if we go to the gym. Not so for our European cousins. I’m not saying everyone here is like that, because they’re not. But a lot of amazing inventions, brilliant people and phenomenal artwork have come from this part of the world. So again, for such a progressive, intelligent society, you’d think less people would smell bad. I’m just sayin …

Screens
I will literally kiss the screens in the windows of my bedroom when I get home. It’s bad enough that this country loves the ozone layer too much to equip their buildings with air conditioning (I think it’s just a cover up—there has to be some other, more sinister reason to subject people to such harsh conditions. Maybe it’s a form of mind control? “If the people are too hot to think; they’ll do whatever we want them to do!” Hmmm, something to at least consider.). What’s worse is that there are no screens anywhere, including my apartment. And bugs love me, so basically there’s a big arrow pointing to my windows inviting the bugs to come in and harass me, which they happily do (until they meet an unhappy end on the bottom of my flip flop. I like to show them who’s boss.). Can’t a girl get a screen?!??

My Belle
I just can’t write a blog about what I miss without including pictures of my sweet Belle. I think this is a fitting way to close the ode to my homeland. Enjoy the photos, and it’s okay if you want to comment and tell me that I have the cutest dog in the WORLD. Because I do. :)

La Dolce Vita ...

2011-06-25T17:38:00.007-04:00

Buon Giorno!

First of all, I’d just like to mention that Google’s logo imagery today is CREEPING me out. Seriously, what IS that? Wereclowns? Clowns are scary enough on their own—there is no need to give them fangs and red eyes. Sheesh.

Anway, I had to google “Buon Guiorno” to make sure I spelled it correctly. I did. Champion speller in all languages … (Hey, if you’ve got it; flaunt it—that’s my motto.)

So today, I continue regaling you with tales of my adventures through Europe. I’m assuming you’ve already read about my arrival to Basel, Switzerland, and the first two days of Amanda's and my travels in the Swiss Alps. Today we’ll begin with …

Day three: Driving from Gstaad, Switzerland to Florence, Italy

The day dawned clear, blue and brilliant, as most days in the Swiss Alps seemed to dawn (not that I ever saw the actual “dawn” … semantics). Amanda and I ate another fantastic homemade breakfast at the Posthotel Rossli, walked around Gstaad, said our farewells to one of the most magical places on earth (Walt Disney clearly wasn’t that well traveled) and headed off into the proverbial Italian sunset.

The drive was just as incredible as everything else we’d seen that week—maybe even moreso. There were vineyards for miles and miles, surrounded by mountains, castles, and the bluest/greenest/cleanest lakes I’ve ever seen. I wanted to just jump out of the car and swim in each and every one of them. But I suppose that would’ve delayed our trip quite a bit, and we really wanted to get to Italy in a timely fashion, so I restrained myself.

There is a long tunnel you have to pass through to enter Italy from Switzerland. I can’t even tell you how excited I was about going through this tunnel, and in doing so, passing through border patrol. Want to know why? Passport stamps!!! You may or may not know this about me, but I have a goal of traveling to so many places and filling my passport with so many stamps that I have to get a new passport many, many times throughout my life. Here’s how it went down:

I approach the border security agent in my rental car, smiling like the naive tourist I am, passport ready and practically thrown out the window into the awaiting guard’s hands. He asks Amanda and I where we’re from and where we’re going, then takes our passports and goes into a building, where I imagine all the stamps sit on a shelf, and at that very moment, he’s taking one down, opening up my passport, and stamping the ink on it that will forever remind me of my first time in Italy. Visions of what the stamp will look like dance around in my mind, and I nearly jump out of the car to retrieve my passport from him as he exits the building. Once again, I show restraint, though, and patiently wait until he hands it back to me. I’m dying for him to go away so I can inspect the stamp, but he insists on standing there, chit-chatting as if he doesn’t have a care in the world and I don’t have a passport to inspect! He invited Amanda and I to come into his office and have a coffee with him and his friend, which we thought sounded fun, but c'mon man! Give a girl a minute!!

Thankfully, I snuck away to the restroom ("water closet" in Europe-speak). I shut the door, pulled out my passport, and opened it, scanning the pages for the stamp that would forever commemorate this moment. I saw my four Mexico stamps first. Then I turned the page and saw my Switzerland entry stamp. Then I gleefully turned to the next page, and ...... nothing. I turned to the next page and the next and the next and …. NOT A THING.

I learned two life lessons that day that will remain with me forever. One is that when traveling within the European Union, you only get one stamp per trip there, and it’s the stamp of the first country you enter from the United States.

The second is to never let an opportunity pass you by. Why oh WHY didn’t I ask the flirty Italian border patrol man to give me a stamp in my passport?? Did he have the authority to do so? I don’t know, and now, I will never know, because I didn’t ask. Ah the sting of lifelong regret. Let this be a lesson to you, too.

Determined not to let the disappointment of my crushed dream put a damper on this experience, Amanda and I excitedly drove out of the tunnel and caught our first glimpse of Italy, which was … say it with me now … Incredible. I need to think of new synonyms because I don’t want to lose the impact of that word. But trust me, when I say the scenery was incredible, it was. And our first glimpse of the Mediterranean shortly after we crossed the border took my breath away. This was one lifelong dream that came true ...

Shortly after crossing the border, we reached a toll road, and as we rounded the on-ramp, a car came at us from the wrong direction!! We almost had an accident (in every sense of the word), but thanks to my cat-like reflexes and adept driving skills (and the fact that we’d recently used the restrooms), we avoided having an accident. Wondering what in the world possessed someone to drive the wrong way on a circular on-ramp, we pressed onward toward the toll gate. The following transpired:

I pressed a green button to extract the ticket, as I would do at any toll post in the States. Then I waited for the gate to go up. But the gate didn't move. “Well, maybe we have to pay first,” Amanda and I thought. So we looked for a place to put money or a credit card. No such luck. There were several other buttons, though, so like a five-year-old on an elevator, I randomly started pressing all of them. One of them was a cry for help apparently, and a very annoyed-sounding voice came through the box. It said something in a language I didn’t know.

So I said, “English, please!”

The voice said, “German?”

I replied, “No, just English. English, please!”

The voice said, “Italian??”

“Just English.”

“French??”

“I’m sorry for being an undereducated American, sir, but I ONLY SPEAK ENGLISH!”

“Please wait” was the response I got.

So we waited … and waited, looking around for someone to come to our rescue. Five minutes later, no one had come to save us.

So, I pressed the dreaded button again.

“PLEASE WAIT!!” was the response.

Sheesh, sorry!

Five more minutes later, and we’re getting REALLY annoyed. A car is now behind us waiting, and I’m afraid I’m about to have a cap busted in me, but then I realize I’m not in America anymore, and I relax a little. People in Europe don’t seem to suffer from road rage quite like we Americans do.

I press the button again, and still nothing. Finally, blessedly, we see a cop car park about 50 yards away. I thought maybe they were coming for us, but I didn’t care at this point. I mean, my grandpa LaRosa was born in Italy, so that has to count for something in the slammer, right??

A thought sparked for Amanda and me exactly the same moment. Drawing from our recent experience with the po-po in Gstaad, we thought, “hey! Let’s get to the cops before they get to us!”

Naturally, since I was in the driver’s seat and couldn’t abandon my post, Amanda was selected as the person to approach the boys in blue. Another veteran move on our part, because the cop was so nice, came right over to the car, spoke to the unfriendly voice on the other end of the line, and discovered that the gate had been broken all day. This explains why we saw the car driving the wrong way on the on ramp.

WHY didn’t they put a sign up or something, though?!?? I mean, not that I would have been able to read it, but I could have google-translated it, or I may have surmised that the gate was broken if there was a sign hanging on it, and if the light to approach it was red, as opposed to “come on through here” green. Anyway, the nice cop lifted the gate for us, and we were FINALLY on our way again.

In case you think I’m making up these stories, I slyly took a photo to document the event. Score another point for the American girls!

The rest of the drive was (thankfully) uneventful, and we arrived in Florence that evening. We checked into our hotel, and then set out to explore. And by “explore” I mean “find a place where we could leave the car for the next three days without fear of it being stolen or towed.” This turned out to be a much longer and more arduous process than either of us anticipated, and by the time we got back to our hotel, it was nearly midnight. But the good news is we saw a lot of Florence that we wouldn’t have seen otherwise. Translation: we were hopelessly lost. I won’t bore you with the details of that night, but let’s just say we were relieved to make it back to our hotel. (Sorry, Mom. Pretend like you didn't read that part. 0:)

Day Four: Living the dream in Tuscany—aMAZing

I did a lot of pre-reading to determine what we should do in Tuscany, and the overwhelming reviews I read about a company called Walkabout Tours convinced me that their Best of Tuscany tour was the way to see the highlights of Tuscany, while also getting some local, non-touristy flavor. So, never one to turn down great advice, I signed us up.

We walked to the train station where we were to meet up with our tour guide and group. This is when I first realized that the men in Italy are kinda pervy. Or, at least, they act like they’ve never seen a woman before in their lives. Cat-calling, whistling, ogling, nodding enthusiastically as we passed, marriage proposals, declarations of love—we each experienced these things over and over and over during our time in Italy. It was fascinating to me. And I don’t mean that in a good way, boys. So don’t get any ideas. Ick.

A quick run-down of all the places we went in Tuscany (see my Facebook page for more pictures!)

Siena
My favorite place—it’s absolutely breathtaking. The scenery that surrounds it, the cathedral, the stone streets and its ancient buildings. It’s everything you would imagine a Tuscan city to be.

And don’t even get me started on the gelato … actually, DO get me started. Because OMG I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: gelato is the nectar of the gods. It kick’s Ben and Jerry’s butt—with both hands tied behind its back. It makes Dairy Queen taste like sewage—or worse. Gelato is delicious. I had my first in Siena. And my second. Don't judge until you've walked a mile in my flip flops ... to the next gelato shop. :)

Siena felt like a real town, but part of a different world—a simpler one, where you could imagine daily life being lived. There was laundry hanging outside windows, flags proudly flying outside homes and old men sitting in the city square because that’s probably what they’ve done every morning for as long as they can remember. If you want to visit what I think of now as “quintessential Tuscany,” don’t miss out on Siena.

San Gimignano
Another ancient city that was similar to Siena in look, but not feel. It’s a really gorgeous place, but it felt so touristy. It was hard to imagine that real people, with real lives, actually lived here. Don’t get me wrong—it was beautiful, and I’m glad we went. It just wasn’t Siena. Here I am with my newest weakness (Thank GOD I'm not living in Italy for the summer--I'd need a seatbelt extender on the plane ride home).

Volterra
We only saw Volterra as we drove past it, but I had to mention it because it’s famous now, thanks to the Twilight saga. I can’t even tell you how badly I hoped our bus would break down and we’d have to stop there so that I could reenact Bella running through the fountain. Classic. Oh well, it’s probably good that I didn’t embarrass America that way. Maybe next time ...

Chianti (outside San Gimignano)
Breathtaking. The Chianti region is amazing—some of the best olive oil and wine in the world is produced here, and we were lucky enough to tour a vineyard/olive grove, do a wine tasting and eat lunch at an organic farm. I also bought olive oil and sent it to my dad for Father’s Day from here, and he LOVED it. Buy some!

Pisa
Pisa was my least favorite place in Tuscany, although it was still beautiful—the architecture is out of this world. Except for that little mishap they call the Leaning Tower. What I didn't like about Pisa, in addition to the endless line of vendors hawking their cheap, knockoff Ray Bans, were these T-shirts. Do you think my expression gives me away? Oops. But I Heart New York. So THERE, Pisa.

We didn’t spend too much time in Pisa. We got our obligatory picture with the tower (I'm not gonna lie--that was fun), then peaced out. I just want to point out that I took the obligatory picture to the next level. While those other schmucks all took their "look at me--I'm so strong, I'm holding up the tower of Pisa just like everyone else who ever visits," I was on the other side, taking a "Hehehe--I'm pushing it over!" picture.

Our whirlwind tour of Tuscany was money well spent—we really saw the best of everything. If you ever find yourself in Florence, you won’t regret spending a day this way. We met some cool people, had some really interesting conversations and saw places and things I only ever dreamed I’d see. At this point, it still felt like I was living in a dream. Actually, to be honest, it’s a month later, and I haven’t woken up yet. Life really is good. :)

Ok, well once again, I kinda rambled (shocking, I know). In the next (and final—I promise!!) installment, we’ll spend a day just outside Florence on an organic, family farm, taking a cooking class. Then we’ll explore Florence one last time and drive to Cinque Terre on the Italian Riviera for long hikes and days on the beaches of the Mediterranean.

Until then, make sure you're chasing your dreams. Whatever the cost, it's worth it when they come true ...

xoxo
C

Living in a postcard, enchanted by Switzerland ...

2011-06-13T14:41:00.004-04:00

Hello dear readers!

I am back with yet another thrilling installment in my saga of a broad abroad (like the play on words??). Due to a debilitating finger injury, I am writing with a gimpy left-hand pointer finger. Which, as you may know, is vital to typing. I’m doing my best without said finger, but if this post has typos in it, or is shorter than anticipated, you’ll know why…

Since you’re probably morbidly curious about my finger, I’ve kindly included a photo. It’s pretty gruesome, so beware. The Swiss do a few things really well: clocks, watches, men, chocolate and … knives. My kitchen knife has viciously attacked me, not one, but TWO times in our short stay together. The most recent assault left me without a piece of my finger, and I’m not sure I’ll ever get that little bit back. Tomorrow, I think I’ll go see the school nurse (i.e. Syngenta clinic nurse) to make sure I don’t need a skin graft or something. Note the empty space where the rest of my finger used to be … :(

But back to my excellent traveling adventures. I thought I’d do a day-by-day account of the week-plus Amanda and I spent traveling around Switzerland and Italy. So, without any further ado, we begin with …

Day 1: Basel to Gstaad, Switzerland, by way of Bern (twice), a broken GPS and some really nice policemen

As I mentioned in my last post (I think), I arrived in Switzerland on a Friday morning after flying all night from North Carolina (layover in Philly). Friday was spent mainly attempting to stay awake. Oh, and I exchanged some money. Which was a COMPLETE ripoff. Actually, it’s not that I was ripped off. It’s that the dollar sucks. We get no respect in the rest of the world for our hard-earned dollars these days. Who is in charge of changing that? The Fed? Well, Fed, if you’re reading this, there is a girl living abroad this summer who would be so very happy if you could fix this little problem while I’m on the other side of the pond. Thanks!

Sorry, I keep getting side tracked. Must be the injury. Back to the story. Friday night, I slept off all the jet lag and woke up feeling pretty refreshed! Amanda and I went to the grocery store just to pick up a few supplies for my apartment (laundry detergent mainly—which proved to be a bit tricky since I couldn’t figure out which one was detergent and which was fabric softener. And I’m learning grocery-store clerks aren’t the best at English. So, I may or may not be “washing” all my clothes with fabric softener. Oh well, at least it smells good.)

Anyhoo, while the trip to the store wasn’t successful in every way, it was successful in the way that the Israeli national men’s soccer team happened to be in town that day. And they also happened to be shopping in the same grocery store. Their English also wasn’t so great, but I’m positive that if it weren’t for the language barrier, I’d probably be Mrs. Liad Amir by now (he’s on the right).

After our trip to the store, we hopped on the tram to go pick up our rental car at the airport. Keys in hand and two iPods charged up and ready to go later, we hit the road for Gstaad, Switzerland, which is a couple hours south of Basel. The plan was to arrive by about dinnertime. Well, about an hour into the drive, the GPS died. And it refused to charge. Turns out the cigarette lighter/charger was broken in the car they gave us. We debated whether or not to go on without the GPS, but I think this picture sums up my feelings about that:

Se we drove back to the hour back to Basel to exchange our car. We would’ve been ok in Switzerland without the GPS, but I wouldn’t have wanted to try to get around Italy without it. Keep that in mind if you ever go to Europe and rent a car: Pay the extra for the GPS. It is WELL worth it. And in our case, because of how inconvenienced we were, we didn’t have to pay for it! And, the other silver lining (you know how I love them) is that we got to see the city of Bern, which is just beautiful. I definitely need to go back and spend a day there sometime.

Oh yeah, and while we were driving back to Basel, we were flashed. I’m not even joking! Three guys driving on the autobahn next to us flashed us, then motioned for us to do the same. As. If. They thought it was funny, and truth be told, so did we. But, ew.

We finally arrived in Gstaad in our super-hot Volkswagon Passat station wagon at about 11 p.m. Thinking we were finally at our hotel and SO ready for bed at this point, I was just a little T.O.’d to discover that much of Gstaad is closed off the vehicle traffic. That’s great for the people walking around the quaint village. It’s not so great for foreigners already prone to getting lost, with a GPS telling us to drive up roads that are clearly not meant for driving!

As I was making yet another (possibly illegal—but who knows for sure? I couldn’t read the signs) U-turn, I looked to my right and there was a cop car. Crap! I could see that we were about to get pulled over. But, always thinking on our feet, Amanda and I made a quick decision to play the pathetic, lost tourists and get to them before they could get to us. So Amanda jumped out of the car and walked up to their window. Nothin like flipping the script! We are goooood. (This worked in every country, by the way. Tested and proven. Try it if you’re ever in a bind.) The nice cops gave us a police escort straight to our hotel’s door. Score for the American girls!

We stayed at the most adore hotel, the Posthotel Rossli. Photos below. This place was wonderful in every way—the people, the views, the free breakfasts, the cute rooms—quaint doesn’t begin to describe it. Stay here if you ever find yourself in Gstaad.

Day 2: Beauty and the Beast, Heidi and the Sound of Music--so pretty much the best day EVER

We woke up the next morning, ate our delicious breakfast, and headed for the charming town of Charmey, where we were planning to hike. First, of course, we had to get a feel for the lay of the town.

And sample the local fare.

Then the hiking began. If I hadn’t gone to Cinque Terre, Italy, just a few days later, I would’ve told you that this was the most amazing hike I’ve ever been on. Cinque Terre topped it, though. But not to take away from the Charmey-Gruyeres hike, because it was truly incredible. It felt like we were in the Sound of Music and Heidi during our hike.

The hills are alive … with the sound of music

That’s what I was singing/shouting as this photo was taken. You would’ve done it too; don’t even pretend like I’m wrong.

And then, when we arrived at the town of Gruyeres, I felt as though I stepped into a fairytale!

Bonjour! Bonjour! Bonjour! Bonjour! Bonjour!
There goes the baker with his tray like always
The same old bread and rolls to sell
Every morning just the same
Every morning since we came
To this poor, provincial town---
Good morning, Belle!

Would you judge me if I told you I just wrote all that from memory?

Ahem. Moving on.

This place was absolutely lovely. It was French speaking, and had a castle and a fountain and really, it has to be the village where they filmed Beauty and the Beast. Or, where the cartoonists went for all their inspiration for the setting. Whichever the case may be. Look at the comparisons, and then I’ll let this go.

There were even lambs! They weren’t frolicking in the city fountain, but I believe that’s a result of a health code violation after one of Belle’s lambys pooped in the water. It’s NOT because we weren’t in the middle of a fairytale. Because we were.

I had some soup and a plate of vegetables for dinner. Want to know how much it cost? About $45 American dollars. Yep. So, losing weight while I’m here should be pretty simple and come as a natural result of not being able to afford food. Again with the silver linings! I’m on a roll tonight.

After being completely enchanted by the town of Gruyeres, we headed back to Gstaad for our last night there, and our last evening in Switzerland for about a week.

In summary of our time in the Swiss Alps: the stars were brilliant, the people earthy, open and welcoming and the scenery, idyllic. I think the quote of that trip was when one of us said, "This is everything I ever imagined it would be, and more. I feel like I'm living in a post card or the pages of Heidi right now. I never want to leave."

Switzerland is an enchanting place, and I’m fortunate to have experienced such a real part of it, far away from the major cities. I didn’t want to leave as we pulled away …

Little did I know what was ahead.

Ok, that’s all I can manage with my gimpy finger for tonight. I’ve got a hitch in my typing gitalong, and I need to give it a rest. Next blog will be all about Italia! It’s going to be good, it’s going to make you hungry … it’s going to make you want to hop on a plane and fly there. I promise.

Oh! I almost forgot my last photo with the best caption ever. My brother wrote this on my facebook page under this picture, and I laughed so hard I almost peed my pants.

As far as Nick writing this, I'm not sure whether to be proud or concerned. But regardless, I share, because it would just be selfish if I didn't.

"After a night of heavy partying & LSD-fueled hallucinations, Lassie traded his reputation and dignity for a giant slab of veal, cooked just the way he liked. It wasn't until the next morning that he realized why his "veal" tasted like young... boy leg. His lack of K9 discipline had finally caught up with him.

The now-hobbled Timmy was metaphorically and literally scarred for eternity, and their relationship was never quite the same. Each time Lassie would stick his tongue out as a dog is prone to do, Timmy would reactively try and lift his other leg in a subconscious act of self-protection. The ensuing face-meets-ground moment was humiliating, and he could never quite forgive Lassie for taking away not just his leg, but his freedom. After all, legs are to a young boy what a car is to a teenager.

Tragically, the story doesn't end there as Timmy's father - embarrassed by his son's handicap and his wife's rapid weight gain after Lassie's night of debauchery - drank to ease the pain, eventually becoming so hooked on the Sauce that he was unable to be an effective father to Timmy.

Timmy went on to join a gang called the Olegs (a play on the brand name "Legos" and a reference to the one thing all gang members had in common: their possession of only one leg, apiece). Known for wearing one of their pant legs higher than the other and for their raucus parties (most ppl. referred to the parties as "one-legger keggers"), they were a force to be reckoned with, unless you ran away from them. You were OK then.

As for Timmy, he was arrested one night after trying to rob a sporting goods store. Ironically, he was arrested having robbed only a pogo stick & a jump rope. Police suspected drugs as the cause of not only the robbery, but of the poor choice of stolen items. As punishment, an unorthodox judge sentenced Timmy to stand as a beacon of caution to all the other one-legged hooligans out there.

To this day, he stands as an example of what drugs, alcohol, and gangs can do to a young man maimed by a hero dog in an LSD-inspired trip. The support post is thanks to the ACLU, who vigorously advocated on Timmy's behalf, arguing that his repeated faceplants were cruel and unusual punishment. The post, while painful due to the spikes, helps support Timmy and remind us all: Spare the rod, spoil the dog."

Auf wiedersehen and ciao!

The Innocent Abroad, post one: My grand European entrance

2011-06-08T10:49:00.003-04:00

At the beginning of March, my boss asked if I’d like to move to Basel, Switzerland to work on a special project at my company’s global headquarters for about four months. Even if you’ve known me for five minutes, you know that I literally JUMPED at the chance. Right out of my office chair and onto the airplane. Except: WAIT! There’s this stuff Switzerland loves called bureaucratic red tape, and getting my work visa (which allows me to work in Switzerland, clearly) was not as quick a process as everyone expected. I was supposed to start my new job April 1. Then it was moved to April 24. Then May. Then, when the visa still hadn’t arrived by mid-May, we quit trying to put a date on it. Talk about frustration. The last few months brought a whole new definition to the phrase “hurry up and wait.”

Well, I FINALLY got the phone call that my Visa was approved, and everything was set into FAST motion. All of a sudden, I had a week to pack everything, buy my plane ticket and get to Switzerland! It was a whirlwind, and without my mom to help me with packing, errands and moral support, I don’t think I would’ve been able to do it all in time. Seriously, I am the WORST packer ever, and also, I love shoes. This is a bad, bad combination. Then, my mom came to the rescue and helped me be slightly less vain and slightly more practical about what I really needed to bring. I went from about 25 pairs of shoes to maybe 15. Baby steps, people …

Exhibit A: My shoe bag.

Exhibit B: The rest of my luggage. Belle is exhausted from all the packing.

My flight to Zurich from Philadelphia was long. It was uncomfortable. It was exhausting. I hated it. The only saving grace was that I had a window seat and sat next to a Swiss guy named Jerk (I am almost positive that’s not how it’s spelled, but that’s how it sounded) and we talked during much of the flight. I taught him silly American phrases and slang, and he gave me lots of practical (and some impractical) information about my new country of residence. He also bought us wine, thinking it would help us sleep. It didn’t, but it was pretty tasty as far as airplane beverages go. He also taught me how Europeans toast (or “cheer” as he put it). Apparently they look into each other’s eyes and say “cheers”—rather than flippantly, Americanly toasting just because you’re supposed to, without making eye contact. It's supposed to be more meaningful, I guess. He had really pretty blue eyes, in case you were wondering. So many of the Swiss do. It’s quite lovely!

Note to readers: let’s revolutionize the toast, Euro-style!

When I arrived in Zurich and collected my luggage, I realized there was no way on earth I’d be able to manage my bags alone, unless I grew a third arm, hand and a lot of muscle, which I didn’t imagine was very likely. In my sleep-deprived state, I nearly started panicking, but I maintained my composure and decided it would just work out. It had to. Somehow, I was going to roll all my bags to the train Station in Zurich, buy a ticket to Basel, then pick up the bags and get them up the train stairs and onto the train.

Then I saw the escalator and nearly got trapped in it trying to get my bags off. My huge suitcase fell over in the process, tripped me and another traveler, and as I nearly got sucked under the edge of the escalator, I lost the will to live.

Then, three knights in shining armor (there was no way just one would do) seemed to appear as if from nowhere to rescue me. They laughed at me a little, but mainly just helped me (and my luggage) get on the train. Thank God chivalry is not dead in Europe! I had more gentlemanly help getting off the train in Basel, and I was over the worst of it.

Note to self: Ship as much as possible home before I travel back to the U.S. in September. There is NO way I’m going through that again.

A quick aside: When I first found out I’d be living in Basel, my friend Amanda bought a plane ticket to visit me May 28 through June 7. Well, as you may have guessed, I ended up arriving the exact same day she did. AND, to make it even better, I didn’t have to start work until June 6. So, I took a few days’ vacation time, and Amanda and I were able to travel without having to worry about me needing to work. Amazing!

Anyhoo, when I got to Basel, it was 4 a.m. according to my body’s clock, and I knew that if I wanted to beat the jet lag, I had to stay awake until at least 9 p.m. local time. Yikes. It was a rough day, but I kept busy until Amanda arrived, and then she and I walked around, ate some dinner (I won’t even get into how expensive things are here—sticker shock doesn’t BEGIN to describe it) and unpacked. My apartment is really, really cute. It’s right across from a big park, and spacious according to European standards. I’m also the first person to ever live in my unit, so everything is brand new and feels clean (which you know I love). Pictures to come soon. I haven’t decorated yet, so I’ll post them once I’ve added the “Carly touch.” (No, I’m not talking about clutter—I’m talking about COLOR! Everything is very European—black, white and gray. No exceptions.)

Below is a picture of my street, though. I don’t plan on decorating that.

Amanda and I only stayed one night at my apartment before we headed off for our excellent European adventure. And excellent it was!

My next post will dish on all we did, saw and the police we met along the way (let’s just say I’ve met and spoken with more cops in the past ten days than I have in my entire life. I know. Now you’re on the edge of your seat. Right where I want you…)

In the meantime, here's a little teaser. It's a picture of me next to the Mediterranean Sea... I still can't say that without grinning. I've been swimming in the Mediterranean Sea!!!!!!

The 4-1-1 on 20/15: My Lasik experience

2011-05-06T18:06:00.004-04:00

If you would’ve asked my yesterday afternoon at 2:30 whether or not I was glad I had Lasik surgery, I wouldn’t have answered you—because I was CRYING from the pain (and I’m not a crier, honestly.). If I had been able to speak and the tears weren’t enough for you, the answer would’ve been “unless you want to punish your eyes by unleashing the fury of a thousand fiery suns on them, NEVER do this to yourself.” However, ask me again today and my answer is “Do. IT!”

So, here is the low-down on Lasik. WARNING: What follows is a long, detailed account of my experience. I tried to make it somewhat entertaining, but it’s still a blog about surgery, so it is what it is. I mainly wrote it for anyone considering having this done or just morbidly curious about the process …

A few things pre surgery
I had to wear my glasses for seven full days before the operation to give my eyes the chance to go back to their natural, contact-free shapes. I don’t know all the science behind it, but I wanted to end up with as clear of vision as possible, so wearing my glasses for a week before the operation seemed easy enough.

I don’t particularly enjoy wearing glasses, though, for the record. I like to think I have the “cute librarian” thing going on, but let’s be honest: I don’t. To me, wearing glasses is just a pain. (If I didn’t think so, I wouldn’t have had Lasik). They slide down my face when I’m working out, they prohibit me from wearing my sunglasses and they’re just not a great look for me in general. Oh well. I toughed it out and wore them.

Also, I had to start taking eye drops three days before surgery. Two different kinds, every four hours. This should by far be the easiest part of the process, right? Technically speaking, yes—as long as the CVS pharmacy has the drops in stock. Unfortunately, they were out of one of my drops, and since as we all know, I’m a wait-til-the-last-minute kinda girl, this was a problem. I was supposed to start the drops Monday, but because of the shortage (was there a run on steroid eye drops in North Carolina this week? Weird.), I only started one of them. I began the second Tuesday afternoon.

I pride myself on my ability to wear a watch and keep track of time (a little trick my Kindergarten teacher taught me), so this part was easy as pie. The worst thing was that the drops taste nasty. My dad thought it was weird that I could taste the eye drops (since I was putting them in my eyes, not my mouth), and he said that’s never happened to him. So maybe I have anomalous eye-irrigation canals that dump into my throat. Either way, the taste was impossible to get out of my mouth. No amount of tooth-brushing helped. Chewing gum brought a slight respite though. Again, this really wasn’t a big deal, and I toughed it out like a champ.

Note to anyone considering Lasik: Get your prescriptions a week ahead of time, that way if there are any shortages at the pharmacy, you don’t have reason to panic.

Note to any procrastinators like me: I told the eye doctor I had been careless in my eye drop responsibilities and he said, “That’s ok. We tell patients to start three days ahead for people just like you. Even if you hadn’t started until yesterday, you’d be fine.”

Sneaky doctor!!

The day of surgery
I started my day as usual, except that because my surgery was at 2 p.m. and I wanted to work up until that time, I had to go to work ‘au natural;’ i.e., no make-up. That wasn’t so bad, except that I look all of 12 without make-up on. Oh well; I persevered.

I ran home right before surgery to eat a small meal (per my doctor’s recommendation). I had Annie’s organic whole grain macaroni and white cheddar cheese with a sliced tomato on the side, in case you were wondering. I’ve even included a photo here. It was delicious.

My sweet little brother had Carly-duty for the day, because my parents were at the beach for a getaway. We headed out plenty early and arrived at the surgery center at 1:45 (go us!). Pete was armed with mp3 player and a book, so he was all set.

They called me back to sign some paperwork (I don’t know what it said—is it bad that I trusted them enough that I didn’t make sure I wasn’t signing over my firstborn or something?), and then the doctor came in to take measurements and determine which lasers he was going to use on me to achieve better-than-perfect vision.

Let’s just stop here for a moment of appreciation that my doctor looks like he could star in General Hospital or ER. Dr. Karl Stonecipher, ladies and gentlemen.

Before he did the exam, he gave me a Xanax, which was supposed to help calm me before the surgery, and then combined with the Lunesta he gave me afterward, it was to help me sleep all afternoon. Then he said something that made my palms start to sweat: “How far away do you live from the office?” I answered that I lived about 20 minutes from there. “Ok good. That’ll be just enough time for the Lunesta to start working so you’ll fall asleep before the Tabasco gets to your eyes.” Me: “I’m sorry. I know it’s Cinco de Mayo and I have salsa and hot peppers on my brain. But did you just say ‘tabasco in my eyes?’”

There’s a possibility I was being naïve, but I honestly thought there wasn’t going to be pain involved in the process. Discomfort, yes. A sand-papery feeling in my eyes. Sure. But when Dr. Stonecipher mentioned Tabasco in my eyes, I was surprised. Yet I told myself that was probably just what some people experienced, so by law he had to mention it to me. I tried to forget about that as I was wheeled away toward the lasers and perfect eyesight that awaited in the adjoining room.

The procedure itself was fairly quick. If I had to guess, I’d say it lasted all of 15 minutes (you’d think Pete would have been able to tell me this part, but his first question when I came out after asking how I felt was “how long did that take?” Kids these days …) It was weird having my eyes forced open, but the worst part was the burning smell the lasers made and trying to focus on a flashing light when all I wanted to do was squint against it.

Words you never want to hear from your doctor: “I just gave your eye a hickey. Don’t worry about it, though; it’s just from the suction cups.” Again, pardon the naiveté, but I didn’t realized eyes could get hickeys. What do I know about these things, though? But hey--I suppose if your doctor is going to give you eye hickeys, at least he's cute! (Kidding of course...)

When the surgery ended, they covered my eyes with these thick, plastic guards, gave me a Lunesta and sent me on my way. Pete was the perfect nurse, and he walked me to the car with his arm around me, opening all the doors. He even had the courtesy to not play his music too loud on the drive home, or ask me too many questions.

Then the pain kicked in. Have I already mentioned it felt like the fury of a thousand suns was unleashed upon my eyeballs? It was hell under my eyelids, with no escape. I couldn’t stop crying, and all I wanted was my mom. But I tried to be brave and I didn’t say that. By the time we got home, I was seriously regretting my decision to put myself through that. Who needs perfect vision anyway?? I never thought I’d be able to get to sleep. I was laying there thinking about Bella Swan and her transformation to a vampire (If you haven’t read the Twilight books, oops. I just ruined the last one for you. Sorry.) and how she had to feel that burning all over her body. So really, I was lucky it was only my eyes. But then I realized that comparing myself to a fictional character wasn’t helping me feel any better, so I started thinking about how Lasik is just like childbirth. It hurts like mad for a little while, and then you have a sweet little baby to hold. Or, in my case, you have perfect eyesight with which to view God’s creation.

Hi, Maks.

So I pressed onward. And, eventually, blessedly, the Lunesta kicked in. Before I knew it, it was 7:30 and I woke up to a much lesser burning and a very hungry stomach. Pete ordered us some pizza, and we turned on the American Idol episode we’d missed the previous night (if I were blind, that’d be the show to “watch!”) and I tried to allow the soothing melodies take me to a place that was free of pain.

Then, to my surprise, my mom and dad came home. I didn’t want to sound like a baby and ask for them, but I was so very relieved they were there. Apparently I wasn’t as much of a champ as I thought I was being, because Pete told them what a rough time I was having right after the surgery, so they came home a day early.

Can I just say here that I have the best family ever? Pete checked on me every 15 minutes apparently while I was sleeping, my parents rushed home when they realized I wasn’t doing so great, and I’ve been waited on hand and foot ever since.

Exhibit A:

The day after surgery
I had to go back to Dr. McBeamy (get it? Like McDreamy from Grey's Anatomy but with a laser??) this morning, and he said “you did great yesterday! And just in case you were wondering, I did perfectly too.” Gotta love a little arrogance in a doctor who knows he’s good. He apologized for the eye hickeys and said they’d go away in a couple weeks (a couple WEEKS?!??), gave me a whole bunch of directives (including that I can’t wear make-up for a week), talked about his adventures in Europe, warned me to be careful (the cute doctor was concerned for my safety!) and sent me on my way. Oh, and he informed me that my vision is already 20/20, but will keep improving over the next few days and weeks. I’m going to have 20/15 vision, people!!! Now that’s what I’m talking about.

I came home, fired up my computer and did a little work with lots of rests in between. And, of course, my faithful four-legged companion by my side.

At this point in the whole process, I am 100 percent happy I took the plunge and had my eyes lasered. And if you’re considering it, I totally recommend it. I’ve talked to several people who had much less pain than I did, and even if you’re like me and have hickeys and jalapeno sauce in your eyeballs, it only lasts a little while. As far as I can see (get it? Pun intended), it’s totally worth it.

One last note to family members and loved ones of Lasik patients: No matter how funny or well-intentioned you think you are, shouting “my daughter looks like a MONSTER!” when you see your loved one’s post-operational eyes is neither encouraging nor funny.

Ok, actually, when my dad said that, I thought it was funny. But not everyone is as good-natured as I, so maybe lay off those types of jokes for say … ever.

Here is a picture of my eyes. It looks like someone aimed ten thousand beebees at each eyeball, so if you get grossed out easily or have children in the room, cover their eyes. I also look high. For the record, I’m not.

2011-05-04T12:00:00.001-04:00

Tomorrow, I'm doing something I've wanted to do for years. No, I'm not starring in a movie opposite Ryan Reynolds (yet). But I AM about to join the ranks of those free of contact lenses, expensive solutions and red, irritated eyes. Tomorrow, I'm getting Lasik!

I'm nervous—mainly about having my eyes taped open by my eyelashes: First of all, that just seems like a good way to torture someone. Second, will the tape rip out my lashes?? If so, I'll have to get fake ones because people who don't have eyelashes always look a little odd—even frightening—to me. Gluing on fake eyelashes every day would be incredibly inconvenient and add precious minutes to my already too-long morning get-ready routine. Plus, it can’t be healthy to paste things to an area that was recently surgically invaded. So, let’s all cross our fingers, say a little prayer and hope I’m not left eyelash-less after tomorrow, because the whole purpose behind this surgery is convenience. Well, convenience and the fact that I look consistently hung-over because my eyes are so red from my contacts.

Anyway, other than having my eyes taped open and the potential for the loss of my lashes, I’m really excited about tomorrow! I’ll do a post-surgery blog (once it doesn’t hurt to look at the computer screen) with a more detailed analysis (i.e. pros/cons list) of laser eye surgery.

Here is a picture of my eyes pre-surgery (note the morning-after-a-drinking-binge look). Look out, Old Blue Eyes. You’re about to have yourself a little competition!

Grab the fattened calf: The Prodigal Blogger returns

2011-04-27T12:00:00.008-04:00

Is this microphone on?

Hello?

Anyone?

Bueller??

BUELLER?!?

Well, nearly two years later, I’m back. I’ve been derelict in my blogging (derelict may be too kind a word for my negligence)—so much so that I considered deleting this blog altogether, coming up with a fresh new name and re-launching. But we have so much history together—this blog and me and all five of my formerly-faithful readers—that I decided I’d take the risk and dive back in full force.

And making a return couldn’t come at a better time in the life of a blogger than preceding a great adventure: I’m moving to Switzerland! Now, obviously, it’s no coincidence I’ve decided to blog again right now. But I’m hoping my content will be so inspiring, witty and downright fascinating (per the usual ;) that you will forgive me and join me on the journey. I wouldn’t want to take it with anyone else (well, except maybe him).

But I digress (Well, not really. Maksim Chmerkovskiy is no digression!). Ahem. Moving on.

Let’s do a quick re-cap of the last two years so we can move on and get this party started! I’ve opted for one of my favorite formats: the top-ten list (which may or may not include ten things.) Without any further ado, here are some of the moments of the last 24 months that in some way—big or small—changed my life. These are in no particular order, by the way.

My struggle with insomnia. (I know—way to start it off on a bad note. But, it’ll go up from here. I promise)
It sounds so innocuous to write “insomnia” that way, but up to this point in my life, I’ve never experienced anything more challenging, disheartening or all-consuming. I learned a lot about myself, my God and my true friends through the experience. And I can honestly look back and say that I am a better person for it.

“In prosperity, our friends know us; in adversity, we know our friends”
- John Heywood

I know I wasn’t easy to be around during that period, so to all of you who stuck with me, joined me for caffeine runs, forgave my forgetfulness, made me laugh, laughed at me when I needed it, and showed me what it means to really be held up and supported through a difficult time—thank you. I truly couldn’t have done it without you.

The beginning of my love affair with New York City.
I went to New York for a work conference in February (not my first trip to NYC, but the first one where I spent a significant amount of time there), then stayed for about five days afterward. My friend Amanda joined me and we did the sightseeing, touristy thing. Somewhere in the midst of the blaring horns and unrelenting sirens, I fell in love. Alicia Keys sums it up pretty well:

“Concrete jungle where dreams are made of, there's nothing you can’t do, now you're in New York.
These streets will make you feel brand new, big lights will inspire you, let's hear it for New York.”

Really, that’s how it made me feel. Something came alive, and I’ve been longing to go back ever since. Who knows what that means, other than trips to NYC as often as time and money allow... There’s something about finding that place that really speaks to your soul. I feel so alive when I’m walking the streets of New York. It’s good to have a place like that to go and be rejuvenated.

Dancing with the Stars.
Judge me if you must, but I think that show is going to change my life! And not because of this:

But because it reminded me of how much I LOVE to dance, and dancing is one of those things I dabbled with but never fully developed. I danced a lot in college, and then my friends and I went dancing in Colorado all the time when I first moved there. Then I got busy with distractions (read: dated guys who didn’t like to dance), and I just got away from it. But seeing Dancing with the Stars brought back to mind how much fun I have when I’m dancing, so when I get back from Switzerland, I’m signing up for ballroom lessons. Obvi I'd like to go pro. Look out, DWTS—here I come! (I haven’t put the final touches on my tactic for getting on the show, though: Should I get famous and become a celebrity "star," or just get crazy-good at dancing and become one of the professional dancers? Thoughts? Which is more probable?)

“We should consider every day lost on which we have not danced at least once. And we should call every truth false which was not accompanied by at least one laugh.”
- Friedrich Nietzsche

Hearing these words from my boss: “Carly, there is an opportunity for you to work in our Basel, Switzerland office on a project for about four months. Is that something you’d want to do?
After I thought about it for all of 0.000000001 seconds, the answer was clear: a VERY professional “HECK YES I DO!!!!!!!!” I’d like to say it was more dignified than that, but I really don’t think it was.

Moving to Europe has been a dream of mine almost as far back as I can remember, but it was one of those dreams I looked at as a “pipe dream,” thinking it would never happen. I could just never figure out how it would work. So, I all but let go of it, other than a few reminiscent daydreams about the “what ifs” and “maybe somedays.” Well, it turns out I didn’t have to figure it all out. Isn’t it amazing how when we let go of our dreams, if they're meant to be, they come back and find us in ways we never expected? I am so far beyond grateful and excited about this, and you can count on the fact that my future blogs are going to document every magical moment of this adventure. So, stay tuned! (Think Mark Twain’s The Innocents Abroad, in blog form, and most likely I’ll be the only one ever drawing comparisons between Twain and myself. But a girl can dream, right? I think we’ve just established that.)

Deciding that I do want to apply to graduate school, making the decision on my major (Journalism, in case you were wondering) and taking the GRE.
That’s three things, but they’re all connected. I’ve realized this year that I really love to write and edit—I’m passionate about it, and (if I do say so myself), I’m good at it. Maybe that’s an atypical thing to love, but it’s me. I also really love to learn how to be a better writer and editor. Why not learn how to be better at my passion while getting my master’s degree at the same time?? It seems like a no-brainer, so I’m going to apply for the Fall 2012 semester and see what happens.

Taylor Swift’s Speak Now CD.
Don’t judge me—for the fact that I still buy CDs or that I announced to the blogging world (and probably not for the first time) that I love T-Swift. She may be a little crazy; she may even be a terrible live singer. But by God, she can write music that gets to the heart of things, and as long as she does that, I’ll be a fan. Also, she dated Taylor Lautner (team Jacob!) and Jake Gyllenhaal (team Jacob part duex? She must have a think for that name).

If you can’t respect her music, at least respect that.

“Music expresses that which cannot be put into words and cannot remain silent.”
- Victor Hugo

My amazing family
I hope this doesn’t sound trite, but these past two years I’ve grown closer to my family than I ever imagined. Not because I didn’t think we could be close, but because I thought we already were about as tight as a family could be. But my relationships with my mom, dad, Nick and Pete have each grown in ways I hadn’t even considered they could. We’ve become more than family—we’re friends. I can’t think of any greater gift.

Well, I think I’ll stop there for now, and leave you with a song. It’s called In Your Arms by Plumb. I’m not sure at this exact moment what these lyrics are speaking to me, but the song is incredibly stirring—and it’s more than just my love for her voice ... Enjoy the playlist, enjoy these lyrics, and most of all, come back and visit. I am committing to blogging at least once every other week from this point on (and there will be fewer gratuitous pictures of my celebrity crushes, because I'll have awesome new pics of my own to share! Note that I said fewer, not "none." I gues a part of my will always be 10 :). My goal is to blog once a week, but I don’t want to be overly ambitious and disappoint. Under-promise; over-deliver: That’s my motto.

Until next time, friends …

Your baby blues
So full of wonder
Your curly cues
Your contagious smile
And as I watch
You start to grow up
All I can do is hold you tight

Knowing clouds will rage
And storms will race in
But you will be safe in my arms
Rains will pour down
Waves will crash all around
But you will be safe in my arms

Story books full of fairy tales
Of kings and queens and the bluest skies
My heart is torn just in knowing
You'll someday see the truth from lies

Knowing clouds will rage
And storms will race in
But you will be safe in my arms
Rains will pour down
Waves will crash all around
But you will be safe in my arms

Castles they might crumble
Dreams may not come true
But you are never all alone
Because I will always
Always love you

Clouds will rage
And storms will race in
But you will be safe in my arms
Rains will pour down
Waves will crash all around
But you will be safe in my arms

A friend is always there to bail you out of jail. A best friend is right there in the cell next to you, saying, "Dude, that was AWESOME!"

2009-04-27T19:59:00.011-04:00

No, I did not go to jail this weekend. I just liked the quote.

[There are pictures at the end, so KEEP READING!!!!!]

There are a couple things to talk about today. First, the cleanse. It went great Thursday, Friday and most of Saturday. However, Saturday night and Sunday was declared cleanse-free. It was a joint decision by Jenna and me. Back to the cleanse Wednesday (after my birthday).

Now for the fun part: the weekend! It. Was. AWESOME. Best weekend I’ve had in a long time. Basically, the people I was going to the beach with from here in NC were annoying me, in the sense that they kept changing plans, when we were leaving, whether or not we were even going to the beach, etc. By the time the trip was officially “on” (for about the 5th time) I had pretty much checked out. The NC group left Friday night to head to the beach.

Rather than join them, I texted Jenna first thing Saturday morning and asked her if she wanted to hang out at the beach all weekend. She said heck yes. I said I’ll be there in less than 4 hours. I packed my swim suit(s) and hit the road. We were on the beach later that afternoon! We hit the beach Saturday with Sarah, a friend of Jenna’s who is hilar and so much fun. Then we all went out Saturday night. (There are SO many stories about it that I can’t even get started on them.) Sunday was more beach time. The weather was perfect—90 degrees and cloudless. Jenna and I even braved the water. I think braved might be an understatement. It was the COLDEST water I’ve ever felt in my life. I imagine it was about the same temperature as the water the Titanic went down in. Our feet were numb from it, but it was invigorating. To go in we had to get a running start from the beach—there was no “easing” into this hypothermic water. Sarah tried to take some pictures of us running—Baywatch style—into the ice water. See below.

Best pick-up line of the weekend:
::two boys approach us on the beach:: “Hey ladies, my friend here wants to get a massage. Do you know where he can get a good one?”

::insert Jim Halpert Face::

::blank stares all around from us girls:: “Uh, no.”

::boys starting to look a little regretful about their lame pick-up line:: “Oh, ok.” ::awkward laughter:: “Well thanks. I, uh, guess we’ll just get going now.”

::no protest from us::

Oh, did I say “best” pickup line? I meant WORST EVER. But funny.

It looks so serene and innocent, but don't buy it! Brrrrrrr!!

Our home for the day...

This is what happens when a spider tries to mess with me: he gets trapped in a straw with sand at both ends. HA!

Here we are, running into the waves Baywatch-style! There's a reason we're the only ones in the water. It's called hypothermia.

A Thanksgiving Blog…

2008-11-29T20:08:00.000-05:00

Ok, so I figured that since everyone else is doing blogs about what they’re thankful for this time of year, I should do something different! So instead of writing about all the stuff I’m thankful for, I’m going to write about what I’m NOT thankful for. Fun, huh?? :)

1. The fact that eating unhealthy foods is directly related to getting fat. This is just a bummer. I mean, why can’t we eat anything we want and in whatever quantities we want? And also, maybe not ever even have to work out? I would enjoy my life more if I could eat like Oprah (when her weight is up), and have a body like Jennifer Aniston. That’s just a fact.

2. The sucking economy. But honestly, this hasn’t really affected me adversely yet, and I’m hoping it doesn’t. I mean, I got my dream job, and best of all (well maybe not BEST of all, but pretty dang close), EVERYTHING is on sale! I’ve found awesome deals at Victoria’s Secret, Gap, Limited and Express—just to name a few. I think I may just stimulate the economy back to goodness myself.

3. Spandex leggings making a comeback. This tops my list this year of things I loathe. I mean, seriously people. WHY?? There were some things about the 80’s that were awesome: Dirty Dancing, Berlin’s “Take My Breath Away, and the fact that I was born. Obviously. But when it comes to fashion, the 80’s BLEW. Everyone knows this. Poofy bangs, side ponytails, nasty workout leotards, parachute pants—it’s all bad. So why in the name of all that’s sacred, would we bring back one of the worst offenders? Yesterday, Lauren and I were out shopping, and we were accosted by the sight of multiple girls our age wearing skin-tight spandex leggings, and some of them completed the ensemble with tall hooker-boots too. Ick! If you’re reading this blog, and you have worn, bought, or even THOUGHT about wearing leggings, STOP NOW. Trust me on this one. It doesn’t look good on anyone who doesn’t spend at least 25 hours a day at the gym.

4. That Ohio is SO FAR away. Maybe it could just switch places with South Carolina for a little while. I don’t really think that’s asking too much…

All right. Well, that’s all I could think of that I’m not thankful for this year. I’m not much of an ingrate, what can I say?? For more about what I AM thankful for, see previous blog. :)

It's Almost Two O'Clock In The Morning...

2008-11-08T01:38:00.003-05:00

And you ask, what better could I be doing right now than writing ablog?? NOTHING! That's why I'm blogging, people. Stay with me here.

Simple disclaimer: It is nearly 2:00 in the a.m., I've had a long, tiring, exciting, crazy week, and I'm tired. My thoughts may not be 100% cohesive (maybe not even 46%) at this point. So bear with me. Or don't. Either way, I write on.

I think right now I'm just going to write about whatever random thoughts come into my head.

1. I haven't had fajitas since I moved to North Carolina. Weird, because I was on a SERIOUS fajita "thing" for quite some time, as all of you who ate out with me could attest to. I kinda miss fajitas. Maybe I'll see if I can make some. I've never actually tried to make homemade fajitas, but it's sounding like a great idea right about now.

2. I went on my first post-Seth date. This may not be the most blog-appropriate subject matter, but it is my blog after all, so I guess that's for me to decide. I thought it would be weird/hard, since my last first date was over 2.5 years ago and with someone I grew to love. But over all, my date with, shall we call him boR, was a positive experience. Will it turn into anything more with him? That's a negatory, Ghostrider. Ready for an insta-relationship is the vibe I got, not to mention WAY forward for someone I just met. He was navy (not the color). Or was he a marine?? Same difference, right Mel and Jenna? ;) Either way, I enjoyed the date, and then deliberated for a few days about what I should do, and then decided that I didn't really want it to go anywhere. But I digress. My basic point is that I went on a date, it wasn't that bad, and now I have the confidence that I CAN do this again. Not that I was all that worried, but you always wonder if the dating thing has changed when you're out of it for as long as I was. It hasn't.

3. North Carolina in the fall = WOW. My drive home from work everyday is like driving through a picture. I can't even describe all the colors. I should get a picture before all the leaves are gone. I pass this lake on my way home and it's incredible...

4. I don't know what my favorite color is. Isn't that weird?! I mean, I have so many favorite colors, for different things (clothes, the sky, the ocean, paint on a wall) that I couldn't ever pick just one. Someone at work asked me yesterday what my fave color is, and I nearly had a nervous breakdown. Not really even close, but I did freak out a little. In a quest to be completely honest with myself and others, I really wanted to put thought into it before I answered the question. I finally decided on blue. In case you were wondering.

5. I am going to Virginia Beach again next weekend, and I can hardly wait. YAY! More girl time with Jenna, which is bound to be fun, encouraging, and who knows what else. Always an adventure. :) Oh yeah, and I'll have just gotten my first pay check from the aforementioned new job. It'll be the largest quantity I'll have ever received in on check before, and I'm thrilled. I've already done my budget for the next 6 months (pat on the back for me!), and can't wait to use some of my spending money in Va Beach.

6. I reconnected with someone today/tonight after almost five or six years of losing touch. This is why I'm still wide awake. It's so incredible if you think about it, how much we change and grow as people, Christians, citizens, friends, whatever it is that we are in our lives, in such a short amount of time. I never want to look back on my life and have ANY regrets about people I've let slip away, or a relationship that I whish I'd nurtured but gave up on for whatever reason. So far, I have very few of those regrets, and now, one less because of a really, really nice conversation tonight. It feels good. I'm grateful for second chances, whatever that may look like.

7. Sometimes, when I put on my makeup, I think to myself, "I'm really just like an artist, if you think about it. My face is the canvas, my makeup products are my paint, and my little applicators are my brushes. Maybe if I take a picture of me when I'm done, I could sell it for some money. Or at least someone could after I die and maybe make a lot. Then people will say, 'Wow. That Carly Razo's talent was tragically unnoticed while she lived. But we sure are thankful for her contributions to the world of face art.'"

And with that, dear readers, I'll close. Maybe I've written myself to sleep (and you too? SAY NO! ;)

OH! I forgot one other thing: Belle is really getting better at running. I mean, it's not that she's some kind of disabled dog or anything and CAN'T run. It's more like she's lazy. But we've gradually worked up our distance, speed, etc, and she's doing great. I've never seen a dog with such unadulterated joy as Belle has when we start our runs. I hope I can get someone to capture it on film, because everyone should see it (I'm totally NOT biased about her being the cutest dog to ever live, btw). Not too many things can make me smile like her face--her whole countenance--when we're running together.

THE END

Lake Lure, NC

2008-10-26T20:32:00.014-04:00

Some pictures from Amanda's and my trip to the Blue Ridge Mountains. We definitely had the time of our lives... :)

This is where they filmed "Last of the Mohicans"! Does this waterfall look familiar?? [Spoiler alert!] It's where that one girl throws herself off the ledge.

Amanda and me with a little bit of the Blue Ridge Mountains behind us.

At the resort where we stayed.

And now, the Dirty Dancing Sequence...

Johnny's Cabin

Penny's Cabin

Dancing on the bridge (on the way to the lake where they practiced the lift)

"I carried a watermelon?"

1-2-3 Cha-cha-cha!

"Oh Silvia? Yes, Mickey??"

Nobody puts Carly in a corner

Go ahead and say it; I know you're thinking it anyway. "Carly, you're a freak". I KNOW! But I'm a fun freak. Amanda and I had the best time, and I'm already looking forward to next year's trip.

So long!

I'm Moving On

2008-10-01T09:17:00.005-04:00

I've dealt with my ghosts and I've faced all my demons
Finally content with a past I regret
I've found a fine strength in my moments of weakness
For once I'm at peace with myself...

I've been burdened with blame, trapped in the past for too long

I'm movin on

I've lived in this place and I know all the faces
Each one is different but they're always the same
They mean me no harm but it's time that I face it
They'll never allow me to change

But I never dreamed home would end up right where I belong

I'm movin on

I'm movin on
At last I can see
Life has been patiently waiting for me
And I know
there's no guarantees, but I'm not alone

There comes a time in everyone's life
When all you can see are the years passing by
And I have made up my mind that those days are gone

I sold what I could and packed what I couldn't
Stopped to fill up on my way out of town
I've loved like I should but lived like I shouldn't
I had to lose everything to find out
Maybe forgiveness will find me somewhere down this road

I'm movin on...
I'm movin on.

Hmmmmmm

2008-09-29T21:17:00.003-04:00

I just realized how easy it is to do a google search and find someone's blog, so I deleted my last post. For those of you that read it, I bet you can guess why. :)

I'm going to post soon, I swear! Terri gave me a great idea for a new blog topic, and I'm gonna use it. Just haven't had any free time lately!

Loves!

Since I've Been In North Carolina...

2008-09-22T20:38:00.003-04:00

Time for a new blog again! Things are going really well here in North Carolina--I'm happier than I could've imagined, and SO thankful for it! I thought I'd fill ya'll (JUST KIDDING. I will not start using that "word". Ever.) in on what I've been up to. And what better way to do that than a list of all the things I'm re-introducing myself to since being "home" again?? You know how I love lists...

1. The freestanding ice cream store.
To be honest, I'm not sure how I survived in Colorado without this. In small town Ohio, there were a few of these little pieces of heaven. In Colorado there were NONE. North Carolina has one called Brusters, and when you walk up to the window to order your flavor, it's like you've stepped back in time. It's so quaint. Not to mention delish. I limit myself to going once every other week, but I'd seriously live there if I weren't losing some pounds right now.

2. Running with Belle.
This has proven to be a little bit more difficult than I'd planned, as my dog is lazier than she was when I left for Colorado 3 1/2 years ago. Apparently running isn't one of her favorite activities, which could be why she's a little chub. But it's ok, because we're working on our endurance together. Here's a gross little aside too. I've learned that I really need to take her out to "do her business" before said run, otherwise it can be embarrassing. The other night we were running down the street, both in our own little worlds. Then I look over at my sweet, lady-like Belle, only to find that she's taking a poo, right in the middle of the street, AS WE'RE MOVING! Didn't even miss a beat. This is when I quickly mask my horrified look with an ignorant smile and keep running like I have no idea what just transpired. (I go back later and pick it up, people!)

3. Making new friends.
This is the worst part of moving away. I hated saying goodbye to my friends, as I've never been blessed with a better group of girls. I was pretty nervous when I moved here that I might not make new friends so easily. And while I'll never replace the girls I left in CO, I have started to make some really promising new friends (girls AND boys!) here. And one of the girls lives in my neighborhood, so we walk/run our dogs together most nights now.

Also, there are some people I won't be spending a lot of time with. There are some red necks down here, you guys! I mean, seriously, it's hilarious slash not really that funny. I was talking to this lady at work the other day, and she was telling me that she recently lost over 100 pounds. Obviously I was impressed, so I asked her how she did it. And in her smoker's voice and thick NC drawl, she goes: "Well, I tried Atkins for awhile, and that didn't work too well...then I tried bulimia, but that wasn't good for my brain. Or my teeth, come to think of it." I'm NOT even joking right now. And neither was she! (Ok, maybe you had to be there. But that took me awhile to type, so I'm not deleting. Sorry. :)

4. Going to the beach.
As my blog has been named Riding the Waves since I started it, and I've never had a house or apartment without at least one room dedicated to all my beach paraphernalia, I think you all know that, besides getting to be near my family again, this is the BEST part of my move. I LOVE THE EAST COAST!!!!! I'll post pictures soon of my adventures to Wilmington, NC (an awesome beach) and Virginia Beach where it's a 2-for-1, because I get to spend time with Jenna AND the ocean! I love this place...

I'm kinda tired of writing, and you're probably tired of reading, so I'll end the list there. More to come soon. Also, Ter, I need you to send me a random topic to blog about. Those always end up being the best ones. :)

I miss you, my Colorado friends who are reading this!

<3

My Favorite Snacks (and the Celebs that love them too)

2008-07-14T16:09:00.003-04:00

So I've totally been slacking on the blog front lately. My good friend (and future endorser of my book) Terri Schurz was quick to remind me of that today. So we came up with a topic: the stuff I eat. But Terri took it a step further with her suggestion. So without much further ado, a list of the snacks I eat at work, why I eat them, and which Hollywood celeb eats them too.

Not only is this going to be a VERY entertaining read (maybe), but it's also going to benefit your health! So read on!

[The information contained below about anyone besides myself may or may not be made up.]

1. Carrot sticks dipped in roasted red pepper hummus.

Why I eat it: Well, I just looked at the label of the hummus, and let me tell you--it is HEALTHY! Protein, fiber, vitamin A. You really can't go wrong with hummus. And carrot sticks are a given. I mean, c'mon--have you ever met a blind bunny?? I don't think so. It's because their eyes are so good from eating all those carrots. I'm planning on being contact-free by 2012 with a rigorous carrot-eating plan.

The Celeb: Angelina Jolie. She craved it during her entire pregnancy with the twinkies (which she finally had, FYI. Maybe we can all poll our money together and buy the first pics. Who tries to make money off their infant children, BTW?!?) Also, since she didn't adopt these two, she figured she'd try to at least pretend they're foreign so she could love them as much as Maddox. Greek to be exact. Hence the hummus-eating.

2. Hard Sourdough Pretzels.
Why I eat it: Oh. My. Gosh. I love these things! The very best way to eat them is to take a bite of the pretzel, then a nice big drink of Pepsi (chilled over ice, of course). It's about as close to heaven as you'll ever get at work. The good thing about this snack is that it's fat free. The bad thing is that it's TONS of carbs/sugar. So use your head, people! Don't go overboard. But enjoy, and let me know what you think.

The Celeb: J-Lo. Because she doesn't care if her a$$ gets any bigger. Apparently, for Jenny-from-the-block it's a great look. I'm not sure it'd work for me, though, so I'm sticking with only eating this snack on rare occassions.

3. Whole almonds with all-natural, organic peanut butter schmear.
Why I eat it: Really, I only eat it when I'm desperately hungry and I can't find anything else to eat (well, there's always the vending machines downstairs, but I think everything in them expired in 1982. If it's older than me, I don't eat it. That's my rule of thumb). This snack does taste decent, though, and it is healthy in moderation. I don't remember what almonds have in them, but it's something really good for your heart, your skin and your overall health. Just don't eat a whole bag--a small handful will do.

The Celeb: Ben Stiller. In order to stay really, really ridiculously good looking, Ben eats a handful of almonds every day. And his skin nearly glows!

4. Yoplait Key Lime fluffy yogurt with strawberries and blueberries mixed in.
I actually eat this for breakfast, but to each his own. This delightfully refreshing dish will satisfy your sweet tooth, while also providing lots of great vitamins and calcium! IMPORTANT NOTE: Do not, I reapeat, DO NOT eat the "light" version of the yogurt, with the artificial sweetener. It will give you cancer and I don't want to be sued for recommending that poison.

The Celeb: In my very thorough research, I did not find my celebrity twin on this snack. But I know who doesn't eat it: Mary Kate or Ashley Olsen.

Well, that's all for now, folks! Now get out there and buy yourself some healthy snacks! Because it really does help the workday go faster when you have something to munch.

Music

2008-06-05T19:33:00.001-04:00

I added music to my blog, thanks to Terri! Now I think people will flock to my blog just to hear the awesome tunes...

-Enjoy!

We're Pimps for Jesus!

2008-05-29T11:37:00.004-04:00

I made a solemn oath to my dear friend Mel that I wouldn't talk about work on my blog (well, it wasn't really "solemn" or an "oath" per se, but I made a coment in passing that I wasn't going to talk about the job...anyhoo...). Not because she doesn't want to hear about it, but because it's probably not the most professional thing to do. But, something funny happened yesterday that I thought was blog-worthy.

Random House decided to give all of us employees an internal instant messaging system. It's very convenient, because now I barely ever have to leave my cube (not helping in the exercise department). And sometimes it lends itself to some fun conversations. Like the one Terri and I had yesterday. We were discussing the arrival of two of our authors, Alex and Brett Harris, at our office for a party.

Carly: Hey Terri, are you going to the author reception today?
Terri: Yeah, didn't you hear me practicing my clapping?

Carly: No.

Terri: Are you going?
Carly: Free food, and a chance to get out of my chair. I'm there.

Carly: So how come you were clapping?
Terri: Lindsey (a co-worker) and I do this thing where every time an email comes through about the Harris twins, we clap. We don't really know why, but it seems like everyone else gets excited about them, so we do too.

Carly: Yeah, it's like that on my side of the building too. We seem to put a lot into these guys. I guess they're selling a lot of books!

Carly: Hey, we're kinda like pimps.
Terri:.............Yeah, pimps for Jesus.

So now that I've written this, I've realized that it doesn't sound as funny as it was during the conversation. But I already typed all this stuff, so I'm going to post it anyway. Sorry for the sucky blog. I'll do better next time, I promise!

The San Antonio Spurs and Being Italian

2008-05-28T10:25:00.010-04:00

Another random blog, you ask? Nope! I fooled you all! The two subjects of today's blog are definitely linked.

First, the Spurs. Let me give you a quick run-down of my night last night, which started with an afternoon conversation.

Carly: What do you want for dinner tonight, Seth? I think I'll cook something so we don't have to go out to eat again.

Seth: Well, the Spurs are playing tonight.

Carly: Uh-huh...and...?

Seth: Last game we won, we ordered pizza from Louie's, so that's probably good mojo. We should order it again.

Carly: We're going to get fat.

Seth: It's for the Spurs, Carly. Anything for the Spurs.

Carly: Nope. So, how about if I cook something Italian, because that's at least in the same family. And it's likely that if pizza from Louie's brought us good luck, then if I cook Italian food, it'll also be good luck. So I'm going to send you a list of ingredients, you just go ahead and buy what's on the list, and I'll cook us a good-luck Italian meal.

Seth: Ok, if you're sure.

Carly: I'm very sure.

End of phone call. I write all this to say that I like the Spurs a lot. After 2 years of dating a maniacal fan, I've definitely come around. However, I'm a fan in the sense that I watch the games (playoffs only--come on, people, that is a LONG season, so let's be reasonable), I cheer when Manu makes a 3-pointer, and I totally back Timmy up when he flops for the 47th time in a game. However, I am not a fan in the sense that I'll grow a beard because I think it's good luck (this is hypothetical--work with me!), or wear the same shirt for ten days in a row without washing it because they won a game last time I wore it. Seth would and likely has done each of these things, and more. I won't go into it all, because it may frighten you for me. But I really love this about him. In a strange way, it's great to see him so passionate and dedicated. And it's a fun thing that we can enjoy together. Last year, when the Spurs won the National Championship, we went down to San Antonio to celebrate. Here are a couple pictures. It was an awesome trip, and for more reasons than just loving to travel, I hope they beat the Lakers and pull it off again this year so we can go again. Go, SPURS, GO!!!

So, one can reason: if one can become a Spurs fan just by being around someone else who lives and breathes the Spurs, one can also become an Italian by being inundated with Italian heritage, food, and lifestyle from the time they are born. Am I right, or am I right??

My step-great-grandpa was Italian. Straight from Italy. He was around for the first 6 years of my life, and as weird as it sounds, I remember him pretty well! He talked with a funny accent, and he made really, really good food. My large (in numbers, not in girth!), boisterous family, half of whom are Italian thanks to great-grandpa LaRosa, had tons of family get togethers, where all sorts of Italian dishes would be served. From a big pot of spaghetti and meatballs to delish Italian sausage and pepper sandwiches, we had it all.

While my dad wasn't one of the lucky ones to have the Italian gene passed down to him (my grandma was born before her mom married Grandpa LaRosa), he always told me, "Carly, we may not be Italians in our blood, but we're Italian at heart." Thank you, Dad. I believe and embrace that, no matter how many times Seth points out that I'm Croatian and should stop pretending to be Italian.

The end. Comments please! :)

P.S. Here is a picture of me being a good Italian girl

Surfing in Colorado

2008-05-20T16:54:00.000-04:00

So here you have it--my very own blog! And you, dear reader, are now reading my first post. I actually don't have much of anything to say at the moment. I just wanted to fit in amongst all of my blogging friends and have something to contribute to future conversations that involve the word "blog."

Oh yeah, I titled my blog "Riding the Waves," which is funny since there is NO WATER whatsoever in this crazy state (more on my feelings about Colorado later). But I have reasons for naming it that:
a. I love the ocean and all things water-related. Body surfing, wake-boarding, swimming, wake-surfing, etc--it's ALL good. And I especially love the tan you get while having so much fun...not to mention the great workout! But I digress...
b. I think my life is like riding waves on my boogie board. Only my boogie boards in life are the people I'm around and the situations in which I find myself. Sometimes the ride is scary, sometimes it's rough, sometimes it's smooth and fun, and sometimes it makes me laugh out loud with carefree abandon. But it is never, ever boring.
c. Did I mention that I'm a FISH?

Ok, well that's all I've got for you right now. I'll try to think of something else to write about! Until then,
-Carly