Words can't adequately describe the place where I was raised. I've tried and never quite caputred it and those who have never been there can't imagine it properly.
My parents' home has six bedrooms, four of which are crammed on the second floor, at the end of a dangerously steep and short stair. The ceilings are low, the floors and walls are crooked. In this day and age, it has more bedrooms for the amount of living space than most people are interested in, which makes it the perfect home for a large family.
The house is situated on almost two acres. A wooded lot lies on one side, a wooded hill across the street, a tree line is on the other side and an empty field behind. In the summer, when the leaves are on the trees, you can barely see the neighbors.
The town is small, with the same school building serving the students that has been there since I was in first grade and the typical New England town common, complete with cannons, memorial, and a white church.
And few of my closest friends have ever seen this place. So I was very excited to bring Stormy there as the first stop on our trip. We got ice cream at Hodgies on our way (to make up for arriving later than anticipated) and Stormy got the driving tour of the town as I took her to my sister's former employer...Lindt.
That's another funny thing about the place where I come from. See, people pay pretty good money for Lindt Swiss chocolate. And it's good. And some of it even comes from Switzerland. But much of it is manufactured right in New Hampshire. Their truffles had been a favor at Stormy's wedding (and my contribution!) so Stormy finally got to visit the mother ship: the place where the truffles had come from. And we both got to sample their delicious chocolates.
It was good to be home!
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Sunday, September 6, 2009
tori and stormy's excellent adventure
I love Stormy and definitely enjoyed being her bridesmaid (and post-facto maid of honor.) Nevertheless and notwithstanding, the young age at which she married created a definite void in our friendship. Unlike all of my other BFFs and I, Stormy and I had never been able to take a road trip together. And road trips are definitely the ultimate bonding BFF experience. I mean, think about it: Anela and I did Austin and San Antonio, Mags and I did an overnight Valencia to Granada, Shantell and I did Boston and Atlanta, and as for Heather and I, the Wild Women Adventures are practically legendary!
But, by the time I was at a point in my life where road trips were feasible, Stormy had other responsibilities. Plus, we haven't lived close enough together to road trip. So, when she offered to be my driver for the move, I jumped at the opportunity. Seriously, what could be better?
Stormy arrived on her anniversary and we celebrated by going to the Opry where, by an act of God, Diamond Rio, the musicians who performed Stormy's wedding song were playing. In addition, we got to see the classic Opry performer Little Jimmy Dickens, who cracked both of us up. Even though it was the third time I had seen him perform, and I knew some of his jokes as well as he did, it was fantastic!
And we meant to leave early the next day, but that just wasn't in the cards. For one thing, Stormy was still on Pacific time. In addition, we had to load the car. So, we got on the road and headed out in the late morning.
In honor of my leaving the South, we had breakfast at Cracker Barrel. Later that evening, we also had dinner at Cracker Barrel. And it was go-od food...southern classic comfort food with dang good biscuits.
Day two would have been longer, but we found a fantastic game...slug Dunkin...a variation of the child hood classic slug bug. However, owing to an absence of VW bugs on the road, we slugged when we saw Dunkin Donuts signs. It was also a fun way to document our transition from south to north as the frequency of Dunkin Donuts increased.
On the way, we took a brief detour to the Crayola factory store somewhere in Pennsylvania. There, we saw the world's largest crayon and got souvenirs for the kiddos back in Portland.
In between, we talked and I DJed and ultimately, we bonded. Finally, we arrived at my parents' home and I got to show Stormy where I grew up. What a perfect way to spend some QT with my BFF!
But, by the time I was at a point in my life where road trips were feasible, Stormy had other responsibilities. Plus, we haven't lived close enough together to road trip. So, when she offered to be my driver for the move, I jumped at the opportunity. Seriously, what could be better?
Stormy arrived on her anniversary and we celebrated by going to the Opry where, by an act of God, Diamond Rio, the musicians who performed Stormy's wedding song were playing. In addition, we got to see the classic Opry performer Little Jimmy Dickens, who cracked both of us up. Even though it was the third time I had seen him perform, and I knew some of his jokes as well as he did, it was fantastic!
And we meant to leave early the next day, but that just wasn't in the cards. For one thing, Stormy was still on Pacific time. In addition, we had to load the car. So, we got on the road and headed out in the late morning.
In honor of my leaving the South, we had breakfast at Cracker Barrel. Later that evening, we also had dinner at Cracker Barrel. And it was go-od food...southern classic comfort food with dang good biscuits.
Day two would have been longer, but we found a fantastic game...slug Dunkin...a variation of the child hood classic slug bug. However, owing to an absence of VW bugs on the road, we slugged when we saw Dunkin Donuts signs. It was also a fun way to document our transition from south to north as the frequency of Dunkin Donuts increased.
On the way, we took a brief detour to the Crayola factory store somewhere in Pennsylvania. There, we saw the world's largest crayon and got souvenirs for the kiddos back in Portland.
In between, we talked and I DJed and ultimately, we bonded. Finally, we arrived at my parents' home and I got to show Stormy where I grew up. What a perfect way to spend some QT with my BFF!
Saturday, September 5, 2009
the visit
Nothing is more fascinating than a computer...
except a computer with your face on it!
except a computer with your face on it!
I knew Carolyn before I ever met her.
Stormy and I were mission companions and she had taken ill. Stormy's mother impressed me enormously. Deeply concerned about her daughter, she was also grateful to me for taking care of her. Carolyn's kind voice soothed my worries and made me feel appreciated. It was because of Carolyn that I knew I would love the south, and from being around her family that I learned to speak enough southern to get by in those first weeks.
I was stunned at her passing and grateful I was able to be with her family at her funeral. I wouldn't have made it to Oregon otherwise this year, but I wouldn't have missed this for anything. It was a beautiful opportunity to say good-bye to a phenomenal woman.
And I got to spend time with Stormy, who is a true BFF. (More on that in a future post!) And Sofia, who is super smart and sweet and all around a great kid. And Sydnei, who is rightfully called "Stink." (Because really, what else do you call a 13 month old who looks to see if you are watching before she does something she knows she's not supposed to do?)
And I made biscuits and country gravy for the first time (to rave reviews, I might add!)
The only bummer of the trip was that we didn't get to pick blackberries...because it was 100 degrees out most days!
It was still fantastic to spend time with friends.
an explanation
Today, the fine gentleman from Comcast came and installed internet in my apartment, allowing me once again to indulge in a favorite pass time (writing) and simultaneously update everyone on my status.
When I told Stormy about the jobs I was considering and interviewing for, one in Dallas, one in Nashville, and one in Hartford, she said that she figured Dallas would be my first choice, followed by Hartford and Nashville last. At the time she was mistaken. While Dallas was a strong contender, I loved Nashville.
Honestly, if I could design a perfect place for me to live, it would be a lot like Nashville: full of hills, winding roads, and Southerners. I would make it a big enough city to have some culture and diversity but small enough to not be overwhelming. I would sprinkle in historical sites and stone walls, an excellent farmers market and agricultural community and top it of with several proximal places to hike, including a national park a few hours away.
Hartford, on the other hand, was on the bottom of my list. In fact, I felt a little guilty allowing the school to fly me out for the interview, since I was pretty sure I wouldn't be taking the job.
You see, I hate winter. And not just in the "I can't stand the cold" sort of way. It's more in the "I become legitimately depressed during short days." Seriously.
And (though it's not nice to say) living far from my family had worked for me. The six years I spent away, seeing them only once or twice a year had actually strengthened our relationship. So, while I had said that Nashville was just the first stop on my migration north, I was kidding.
But then I interviewed for the Dallas job and it just didn't feel right.
And I came to Hartford and much to my distress it did. It really, really did.
So, after a brief visit with Stormy, I packed my apartment and moved to Hartford. (More on that later.)
The purpose of this post is not to detail the visit or the move. It's to explain why on earth I would leave someplace I loved so much.
Beautiful and wonderful though it is, I realized Nashville was haunted for me. The park where I loved to walk had become the park where I used to walk with Andres. And the campus where I got my masters was the place we used to meet. And the empty parking lot by the grocery store was where I taught him to drive stick.
And of all the things I lost, losing Nashville was the most irritating. Because it was something that came upon me unexpectedly and made me cry more than I had for a long time...well, maybe a long-ish time.
But I needed, in the words of Mary Chapin Carpenter "a place to call my own, where you have never been." And I've got that.
And that's not all I've got.
In the next few days, I hope to find more time to write and update y'all on my return to New England.
When I told Stormy about the jobs I was considering and interviewing for, one in Dallas, one in Nashville, and one in Hartford, she said that she figured Dallas would be my first choice, followed by Hartford and Nashville last. At the time she was mistaken. While Dallas was a strong contender, I loved Nashville.
Honestly, if I could design a perfect place for me to live, it would be a lot like Nashville: full of hills, winding roads, and Southerners. I would make it a big enough city to have some culture and diversity but small enough to not be overwhelming. I would sprinkle in historical sites and stone walls, an excellent farmers market and agricultural community and top it of with several proximal places to hike, including a national park a few hours away.
Hartford, on the other hand, was on the bottom of my list. In fact, I felt a little guilty allowing the school to fly me out for the interview, since I was pretty sure I wouldn't be taking the job.
You see, I hate winter. And not just in the "I can't stand the cold" sort of way. It's more in the "I become legitimately depressed during short days." Seriously.
And (though it's not nice to say) living far from my family had worked for me. The six years I spent away, seeing them only once or twice a year had actually strengthened our relationship. So, while I had said that Nashville was just the first stop on my migration north, I was kidding.
But then I interviewed for the Dallas job and it just didn't feel right.
And I came to Hartford and much to my distress it did. It really, really did.
So, after a brief visit with Stormy, I packed my apartment and moved to Hartford. (More on that later.)
The purpose of this post is not to detail the visit or the move. It's to explain why on earth I would leave someplace I loved so much.
Beautiful and wonderful though it is, I realized Nashville was haunted for me. The park where I loved to walk had become the park where I used to walk with Andres. And the campus where I got my masters was the place we used to meet. And the empty parking lot by the grocery store was where I taught him to drive stick.
And of all the things I lost, losing Nashville was the most irritating. Because it was something that came upon me unexpectedly and made me cry more than I had for a long time...well, maybe a long-ish time.
But I needed, in the words of Mary Chapin Carpenter "a place to call my own, where you have never been." And I've got that.
And that's not all I've got.
In the next few days, I hope to find more time to write and update y'all on my return to New England.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
mags
Margaret and I met in Spain. We bonded over conos de helado y gelato and our inability to fit our all American feet and bodies into the ridiculously small Spanish sizes. (Seriously, the people at the shoe stores looked at us like we were nuts when we asked for our size shoes!)
We walked through cathedrals, plazas and sat in teterias in the Albicin. And of course we went for tapas...and Margaret was willing to take my free drink coupons and leave me with just the snacks.
So, when I was invited for a job interview in Connecticut, Mags was excited to see me, especially because I would be there Tuesday night...which is girls night.
So, after the job interview, it was ON!
First, yummy seafood for dinner. Now, I love the south but my big complaint is that fish down here is generally catfish. Catfish are scum sucking bottom dwellers and they taste like...scum sucking bottom dwellers. If ever the phrase "you are what you eat" was true, it would be for catfish. So, I got white fish...delicious, flaky, clean tasting white fish. Broiled.
Then it was karaoke time...and Mags and I belted out "Good-bye Earl" and I did my rendition of "Wanted Dead of Alive" (because really, Bon Jovi rocks!)
And I was thinking, if I live in Connecticut, I could do this far more often.
My summer vacation by tori
It's been a long time since I wrote. A very long time.
Things have been busy and school is about to start...so I thought I would write a "What I did on my summer vacation" essay to sum it up.
First, I ran a 6 week training institute for pre-service teachers who will be working in Metro Nashville Public Schools. It was intense and awesome! I can't begin to describe the awesome people and experiences I had.
Most awesome of all though was the return to competence...the fact that I did something successfully on my own. And I got praised tremendously for my efforts. Again, a good feeling.
After I finished institute, I took a little quality me time.
I sat by the pool.
I went with friends to a state park to hike and play.
I walked in the park.
It was a beautiful thing.
And the rest will be covered in greater detail shortly.
Things have been busy and school is about to start...so I thought I would write a "What I did on my summer vacation" essay to sum it up.
First, I ran a 6 week training institute for pre-service teachers who will be working in Metro Nashville Public Schools. It was intense and awesome! I can't begin to describe the awesome people and experiences I had.
Most awesome of all though was the return to competence...the fact that I did something successfully on my own. And I got praised tremendously for my efforts. Again, a good feeling.
After I finished institute, I took a little quality me time.
I sat by the pool.
I went with friends to a state park to hike and play.
I walked in the park.
It was a beautiful thing.
And the rest will be covered in greater detail shortly.
Monday, July 20, 2009
millions of peaches
No matter what The Presidents of the United States might have sung, the best peaches do not come from a can nor were they put there by a man in a factory. Good peaches come from trees and are put into bottles by women and men so that their fresh, summery flavor can be enjoyed in the depth of winter.
But this is summer...when they are best eaten from a tree.
As a child, we would pick peaches in New Jersey with my grandfather. The best moment was eating the first one off the tree, when the fuzz sticks to your mouth and face.
Tennessee peaches, I've recently learned, are even better than the ones in New Jersey.
I found a farm outside of the city that offered pick your own for a bit less than the flavorless peaches in the store. They had two varieties of yellow peaches and white peaches as well. They were beautiful, full, ripe and delicious.
So, I picked about 35 lbs of them. And I went to town...peach jam, peach salsa, peach and strawberry jam and bottled peaches.
Millions of peaches, peaches for me!
But this is summer...when they are best eaten from a tree.
As a child, we would pick peaches in New Jersey with my grandfather. The best moment was eating the first one off the tree, when the fuzz sticks to your mouth and face.
Tennessee peaches, I've recently learned, are even better than the ones in New Jersey.
I found a farm outside of the city that offered pick your own for a bit less than the flavorless peaches in the store. They had two varieties of yellow peaches and white peaches as well. They were beautiful, full, ripe and delicious.
So, I picked about 35 lbs of them. And I went to town...peach jam, peach salsa, peach and strawberry jam and bottled peaches.
Millions of peaches, peaches for me!
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