Babies, Babies Everywhere

Congratulations are in order to friend and blog-reader P, who just yesterday was blessed with a baby girl, albeit a few weeks early. Hooray, P! Wishing you and your baby girl all the best.


Did you know that everyone is pregnant? At least most of the people I know, anyway. Except myself, and Grace. This morning, we attempt to name our future offspring via email:

From: Grace

To: HomeValley

I will have Helen and Grace.

From: HomeValley

To: Grace

Did you know that my new favorite boy's name is Henry? How cute will our little regal children be running around?? Henry, Helen, and Grace! Now that is classy.

From: Grace

To: HomeValley

I like Henry. Can I call him Hank after a few glasses of wine?

From: HomeValley

To: Grace

NO WAY. Well, as long as no one else hears and picks up on it. It will be like my mother forever protecting me from "Missy". I owe her a lot for that.

From: Grace

To: HomeValley

well then you cant call my daughter Nan.

From: HomeValley

To: Grace

Yeah right! I am totally calling her that.

From: Grace

To: HomeValley

Hank and Nan. Sounds like the Boxcar Children...

From: HomeValley

To: Grace

Like the Little Rascals. All we need is for you to have a Spanky.

From: Grace

To: HomeValley

too many jokes in my head right now

From: HomeValley

To: Grace

Today's life lesson:

"If a kid asks where rain comes from, I think a cute thing to tell him is "God is Crying." And if he asks why God is crying, I think another cute thing to tell him is, "Probably because of something you did." - Jack Handey

From: Grace

To: HomeValley

as I was raised on the motto that "Children should be seen and not heard." -Diz (father of Grace)

From: Grace

To HomeValley

We are going to be great mothers.

Popping In

The Internet has turned against me. I have been absent from this beloved forum for so long, it won't let me in anymore. I am writing this to myself via email. It has gotten that bad!

Am also trying to figure out why, since J and I cleaned out our closets on Sunday afternoon in The Great Bedroom Redecoration of '07, our second floor smells of dirty laundry, and our closet reeks of cat piss. Seriously: why?

And speaking of TGBRO07, yes, we did spruce up our sanctuary just a bit, thank you for asking. We've really taken it to the next level. I wanted serene, and oh, we went there. The room once had a dim orange glow to it; it's now been transformed into a blue and white halcyon oasis. And it is glorious, right down to the fake orchid that now adorns our night stand. And it only cost us considerably more than we planned on spending. Still. Glorious.

It was also the perfect time to survey everything in our drawers and closets, and determine which items were Salvation Army-bound. (Didn't I just do this?) Ladies: a moment of silence for the two errant canvas Coach totes that were chucked into the big black trash bag unceremoniously. Yes, they were both nearly 4 years old, and neither had aged well. If only I could have done something, anything, to save them from this fate! But alas, a spot treatment stain remover did not work; and of course there was no way to patch the leather that had been scraped away through years of abuse. Still. It hurt. Take care of your Coach, will you?

In travel news, I wrote a long, eloquent post on paper (!!) last week upon my arrival at the Columbia airport in South Carolina. It was quite clever actually; I discussed how trying it is to travel most of the time, until you realize how many wonderfully beautiful and quirky people you can meet in an airport bar, like a chemist who recently discovered the reason why there is so much nitrogen in the soil, y'all! A scientific breakthrough that warranted me giving him my last quesadilla, because hey! It may seem banal, but I have discovered nothing lately. (Well, unless you count unearthing this wretched cat piss odor out of our perfectly-arranged wardrobe?) So, I wrote until my hand cramped and then it was 197 degrees in Columbia; and I decided it was much easier to drink pinot noir to combat the heat, and not post; and then I was so busy the rest of the week that I had no time to write; am lazy, procrastinating simpleton, etc.

In Big Party news, there may be a destination for the Event J and I will be hosting next July. More to come on that when the details have been sorted.

In I Didn't Realize HomeValley Was That Nerdy news, not only do I have a "Currently Reading" document in my files here (which lists all the books that I have read since 2004), but I also just discovered a list entitled: "Books I Must Read". Heh. Am lovable, and also well-read.

Finally, please, see the film Once. For your own good.

More to come, friends.

I Still Miss Someone (or City)

Spent lovely day in Manhattan yesterday, mostly working from my hotel room on 92nd and 1st, instead of trekking to our Manhattan office, way downtown at Broadway and Wall. Had dinner plans with Vanessa, but asked her to kindly meet me at Coach in Rockefeller first, because I was a woman with a bonus who wasn't afraid to spend it!

Alas, I was afraid to spend it. Damn you, J! Now I am acting all kinds of sensible. Behold, the bag I did not purchase:

Yet.

Over the most expensive glasses of Pinot Noir evah, Vanessa and I chatted the night away. In celebrity sighting news, V recently dined next to Tom Brady and Gisele at a quaint West Village Italian eatery. The word? They are the tallest people she has seen ("like giants!"); Tommy wore a leather jacket that he never removed, despite the oppressive heat; and Gisele is positively gorgeous sans make-up. Oh, and they made out the entire time. Fabulous.

I took the Brooklyn Bridge into Manhattan yesterday, something I haven't done in years; and impossibly, the views are even more stunning than I remember them. My alma mater, Pace U, lies at the base of the bridge downtown, and even that looked positively gorgeous yesterday in the bright sun. Immediately emailed J upon arriving at the Courtyard Marriott and told him that not only should we move back to New York, but we should probably just live underneath the Brooklyn Bridge.

Of course, during my hellacious commute this morning (10 blocks in sweltering heat to 86th and Lex, approximately 1 billion people clamoring to get on the 6 train, transfering to the 4 train at Union Square, all while lugging a giant computer bag and sweating profusely), I marveled that there was nothing quite like having a home office.

Unless perhaps my office was on the Brooklyn Bridge?

HomeValley in Springfield

New Domain Name?

http://www.omgmyweddingmakesmemiserablewhatthefuckiswrongwithme.com/

First, a heartfelt thanks to each and everyone of you who has either totally not mentioned the Thing That Shall Not Be Named to me, or who has contacted me with a recommendation to call this travel agent or that person who just had a destination wedding. Am grateful. Very, very grateful.

Maybe we don't call it a "wedding" anymore? Maybe we call it a super-fun party. Yes, Super-Fun Party. That takes a bit of the edge off.

Sunday night, I hugged J tightly and whispered in his ear, "Babe, do you think we could elope?"

"Sure," he replied.

"No, no. Really. Would you elope?" I pressed.

He thinks for a moment. "No. I couldn't do it. I'd want my parents and friends there."

Humph. I love you all, but, um, I probably could. No worries. Super-Fun Party is on.

Moving on...

Last week I asked J to print out a post I had written some time ago. I thought that I may have stumbled onto magazine feature gold with it. (I have since changed my mind. Writers.) Within the context of that same email, I mentioned that I'd like to start printing out this blog, so that we could save it. In my own mind, I reasoned that printing this text would allow me to remember my twenties vividly. HomeValley Jr. could then also experience my twenties vividly, and marvel at Mama's clever positioning of the "f" word in most entries.

J. I bounced out of my office to greet him when he came home from work on Friday, and plopped down on the couch.

And noticed a crisp new binder of prose on the coffee table, entitled, "Mullets, M. Gellman, and Mergatroid, Oh My!" Subtitled: "Queens is the New Manhattan: The Sophisticated Diary of a Young Woman in Her Twenties."

Wait! He included the "reviewers" quotes on the cover, like:

"Crude yet classy; raunchy yet adorable..." - J-Money, The Chronicle

"Definitely the next big thing with a clever writing style that challenges anyone not to laugh!" - J, Author of Pick the Next Big Thing

"It's impossible not to love this girl!" - Larry, Future Husband

It was fucking hilarious and beautiful and I laughed uproariously through my tears.

Greetings from the Windy City!

Except not.

Many thanks, US Airways. As always, you are as reliable as my ability to remember to water the damn plants in this house (i.e., not very).

Holy Shit! Heavens to Mergatroid!

Reason Number 734789 why weddings are evil: Both J and I completely forgot that this week marked our second anniversary. What. The. Fuck. Weddings! I will destroy you!

So because I am such an asshat and forgot all about our special day (and you will also hear from me when you get home today, J), I will have to post what I wrote for J on our last anniversary. Slightly edited (you don't get the really good stuff, Internet!)

My Dearest J, Larry, Orlandi, J-Mix Master Money:

One idle Friday morning, about a year ago, I was relaxing in my 3rd Avenue office, trying to invent ways to pass the time until happy hour. While browsing through my Hotmail contacts, I stumbled across your email address and was overpowered by an urge to say hello.

Now, an innocuous email has seemingly altered the course of my life; has changed it for the better in more ways than I can possibly count. Today, it is difficult to imagine my life before J-Money.

I am upping the ante on your 50 reasons, and I will now divulge 100 reasons why I think you are the greatest thing since Kelly Clarkson:

1. You are always patient with me, like when I accidentally break all the glasses in the apartment and you have to clean up the glass and then tend to my wounds with Band-aids and Neosporin.
3. You always keep your word. That’s amazingly rare.
4. You inspire me to keep my word.
5. You are cute when you “admire” your work.
6. You are unfailingly selfless.
8. You listen to me, even when I go on about books/roaches/mice/people/reality TV shows/Kelly Clarkson.
9. You have integrity.
10.You follow the rules on planes explicitly.
11.You always ask “How are you?” and I always believe you are actually interested to hear.
12.You work hard.
13.You are self-confident.
14.You buy me flowers for no reason.
15.You grin and bear when I order expensive martinis.
16.You want to see the world.
17.You will take me along with you.
18.You put up with my hypochondriac tendencies.
20.You love your family.
21.You always try to do the right thing.
22.You help your friends with their houses.
23.You help me with cleaning and organizing.
24.You encourage me.
25.You are responsible.
26.You want to have babies, and unfortunately our son will probably be named “Amani.”
27.I can rest assured that Violet and Amani are getting the best father on the planet.
28.You realize I am stubborn and independent, and you let me be that way often.
29.You tell me the truth.
30.I know you will always be faithful to me, even if you are an incessant dream-cheater.
31.You make time for all of the people in your life.
32.You always make sure we make plans together.
34.You know how to do everything.
35.I get to teach you the big words.
36.You are teaching me to be more sensitive, which can’t hurt.
37.You watch chick flicks with me.
38.You buy me ice cream.
39.You leave the Cheerios and bowl out for me.
40.You lock the door when you leave and I am sleeping.
41.You make my lunch.
42.You let me cry.
43.A hug from you can make it better.
44.You made Greece and Paris (edited in 2007 to say: and Thailand and Cambodia and Colorado and North Wildwood) the most amazing adventure.
45.You love me even when I am cranky.
47.You support me always.
48.You know that we need to discuss problems when they come up, even if I am reluctant. This means we have no lingering resentments. What is better than that?
49.We want the same kind of wedding. (Edited in 2007 to say: WEDDINGS! I WILL KILL YOU!)
50.It makes me incredibly happy to make you laugh.
51.You are absolutely gorgeous and perfect the way that you are.
52.We hold hands all the time.
55.You always assure me I am the most beautiful woman in the room.
56.I always feel like the most beautiful woman in the room when I am with you.
57.You are incredibly chivalrous.
58.You went and told my ex about us. It must have been terribly difficult and uncomfortable, yet you did it and you didn’t complain about it and you got through it. All to be with me.
59.You know what you like and what you don’t like immediately. You’ve got convictions.
60.You think many of my annoying habits are “cute.” (For now!) (Edited in 2007 to say: Yeah. Um, not so much. Anymore.)
61.We can act like kids together.
62.We can act like adults together.
63.Your family is wonderful and I feel completely at home with them.
64.You had Nana make me a blanket!
65.You always tell me you love me.
66.You respect me.
67.You respect my opinions.
68.We watch the Eagles together in our jerseys.
69.You are passionate.
70.Your heart has grown many sizes since we got together.
71.You are not afraid to have difficult conversations with people.
72.You are a true gentleman.
73.Even if you fart a lot on poor, unsuspecting bar patrons.
74.You love the beer garden! So do I.
75.You deal with me being a little jealous every now and then.
76.I can count on you. For anything.
77.We are buddies.
78.We are partners. You treat me as such.
79.Together, we form an unstoppable force of knowledge about all kinds of subjects.
80.We both kinda suck at math. And that’s okay.
81.You are good at your job.
82.You are good at everything.
83.People come to you for advice.
84.I never have to doubt how you feel about me. You are always reminding me in sweet ways.
85.Sinking into bed with you for a nap is the most beautiful feeling.
86.You rub my head sometimes when I have a bad dream.
87.You sing or whistle in the mornings.
88.You are not afraid to admit when you are wrong.
89.You apologize.
90.You tell me that I need to do both more often, and you are probably right.
91.You know how much my brother means to me, and you want to have him over for a weekend.
92.You think Bucky is humorous.
93.You understand why Churd is amazing.
94.You often ask “What can I do for you?” You always try to make me comfortable.
95.The massages. They are heavenly.
96.You really are a dreamboat. I did win the prize.
97.You have a picture of me on your desk. It makes me happy to know that.
98.You take the time to look me in the eyes and tell me you love me.
99.You will put up with my friends and even like some of them.
100. This list was unbelievably easy to write, and I am sure I could go on to 1000.

J, you really are a rock star.

Love Always,

Your HomeValley

Internet, you are free to go vomit now.

The Extent of the Crazy

Have just decided that I will no longer speak of this wedding to anyone, save J. So if you see me, and you dare inquire, "So, how are the wedding plans coming? Have you picked a place yet?"

I will grin maniacally and say only: "I'm right on top of that, Rose!"

Then I will back away from you slowly, still grinning.

Carry on.

So Tired

A long, long time ago, before I was betrothed, Grace and I met the creator of this website at the Beer Garden. He is/was a struggling stand-up comedian (though it looks like he is warming up audiences at The View now, so that's uh, really something).

He made an off-color Terry Schiavo quip early in our conversation, which was most decidedly not funny, but prompted Grace and I to refer to him only as "Schiavo" and shudder at the memory of his joke.

I digress. He was quite proud of his anti-wedding website creation, and he had many one-liners to assert his singular claim that nuptials, plainly, suck.

My point here? "Schiavo" got it right. I hate weddings. They are Giant Looming Purveyors Of Stress And Strife. And They Must Be Stopped.

*Shakes fist; looks up at sky*

That is all.

*sobs*

It's Official: I Am Not Pregnant.

I realize I have been a bit cryptic lately, but allow me to assure you: this new "project" I am working on? It's not HomeValley II. It was never even remotely HomeValley II. But I certainly appreciate the influx of emails and comments and inquiries I received about the picture of J and me* (read: 3).

(And when I am pregnant in two to three years, you guys will be the first to know. Maybe even before J. Seriously - wouldn't it be hilarious to snap a picture of myself in, I don't know, a tee-shirt that read "MILF" or something, and then post it here and send the link to J at work? I imagine the post would be entitled: "Get 'er Done!")

*giggles*

I know Grace's fears were assuaged last night at happy hour in Center City, when I slammed a dirty martini (although, that was mostly just olive juice, wasn't it? Conspiracy???)

But probably not, as I went sentimental like Koos last night when I announced to Grace and Marie** that the first day of high school, as we were introducing ourselves in class after class, I had decided that I would most definitely become friends with Grace and Marie**. And lo! Thirteen years later, we are sharing drinks at Oceannaire. Foresight is a beautiful thing.

* Actually, just a photo of J and me at Hotel Keti in Santorini, Greece. That will make sense soon. Mwah ha ha!
** Name has been changed to protect the innocent.

Things.

Working on a new project, which will be revealed in due time. Hey, did you want to hear what J and I did this weekend?

• Acquired bikes, thanks to my most generous Uncle in rural Pennsylvania. They are only on loan, but since bikes are so G.D. expensive, it is a benevolent gift bestowed upon my ravaged, potentially-thousands-of-dollars-over-our-wedding-budget soul.
• Packed a backpack with water and requisite granola bars (physical exercise makes me famished) and rode like the wind down Kelly Drive, around the Art Museum, and back on the Drive Formerly Known As West River. Did not hit one biker, but was passed. A lot. I tried not to take that too personally.
• Watched The Bourne Identity (fabulous) and The Da Vinci Code (again). Each featured tension-laden car chases through the Parisian streets. Yearned for a stay at Hotel Regina and croissants. Someday...
• Saw a children's swim meet. Thought possibly I should take up the sport. Ate hot dogs and fries as I mulled this over on a blanket in the grass.
• Booked a last minute flight to Chicago for next Tuesday. Just because I had a free ticket that expires on July 24; and I have never been to Chicago. Imagined myself singing in a parade and taking in a game at Wrigley Field; perhaps traveling to the top of the Sears Tower and meeting the Sausage King of Chicago. Wait...
• Finished watching the first season of House. My crush on Hugh Laurie continues to intensify. Also, medical school? A viable option for me?
• Finished this book (alright, I finished it last weekend. But it was so brilliant, so heart-wrenching, I thought you should give it a try).
• Started this book, just because I find the Fifties riveting. This makes me a huge geek. I am alright with that.
• Cleaned. Really! J says we can get a cat as soon as I vacuum the house every day for a year. This will never, ever happen. But once-a-week is definitely a step in the right direction.

This will make sense soon.

Here's lookin at you, Queens.

Dudes!

Happy one year anniversary, Queens is the New Manhattan, you gorgeous, gorgeous gal. In honor of our big day (tomorrow):

Number of beers consumed:

HomeValley: 1
J: 3 (and counting)

Number of rock star hair cuts:

1 (Short, people. Short, shorn, and Awesome.)

Number of minutes it took J to overcome shock at rock star do:

Any second now.

Number of bowls of ice cream consumed:

1

Number of Gin Blossoms songs downloaded:

5

Number of times HV listened to "Hey Jealousy" and danced wildly around house, swinging shorn locks and doing her patented "Molly Ringwald" jig:

7 (and counting)

Number of times HV marveled at how much she loves this modest little blog, and how grateful she is that you've stopped by to read her ever-clever drivel:

8 gazillion (and counting)

Hug and kisses and Gin Blossoms and love to you all,

HomeValley

Tomorrow, maybe, we can drive around this town? And let the cops chase us around? Exactly.

I remember when we were drivin' - drivin' in your car

In case you were sitting behind your desk this afternoon, wondering what was going through the brain of HomeValley today, please, take a look:

You can trust me not to cheat

And not to sleep around

And if you don't expect too much from me

You might not be let down...

Hey jealousy! Hey jealousy

*************************

Til I hear it from you...

*************************

Anywhere you go!

I'll follow you down

Folks, this acute condition involves all Gin Blossom lyrics, all the time. Why? Why do I yearn for 90s alternative music so frequently? Is anyone else out there afflicted?

J and I went to Cat's dance recital on Saturday night, and went apeshit when we heard "Wonderwall", "Don't Look Back in Anger", and "Fast Car". These songs? Fucking brilliant. How could we forget?

Oh, and I totally downloaded Oasis when we got home.

And I am totally downloading Gin Blossoms tonight.

And I totally just went rooting through J's antiquated CD collection, and found me some Belly, y'all. Belly!

Keep your head up, boy, when you're talkin to me

And be there when I feed... the... tree.

I don't know what it means - but I like it.

Perhaps a little Empire Records this eve, J?

Oh, and since I actually am still somewhat into contemporary music, this is what made me smile all the way to Pittsburgh last week.

And this is what made my heart soar yesterday.

Overheard in Philadelphia

Monday morning I was at the Philadelphia Airport grabbing a cup of coffee at Cibo Bar in the B terminal. It was before 7 AM, so I was not yet fully functional. A woman was seated next to me, working diligently on her laptop and PDA. She was no-nonsense.

I overheard her first call. "I'm just going to put this out there," she remarked assuredly. "How the FUCK are we going to meet this deadline?!"

I liked her.

A few moments later, she asked for her check, but not before instructing the bartender to "put their first round on my tab." She gestured to the other end of the bar, where four servicemen had just sat and ordered.

"It's four shots of Grey Goose; is that alright?" The bartender asked.

"Yes - whatever they want."

The bartender doled out the shots and informed the military men that the round was on the "lady in the corner." They chorused "Thank you, ma'am" in unison.

"Don't mention it," the woman said as she quickly gathered up her things to head to her gate. "I'd cheers with you if I didn't have meetings all day."

And the multitasker was off.

And my eyes welled with tears.

Because damn - that was classy.

Windfall

Now I hate to jinx myself, Internet, so I will only say this:

Things are good right now.

Just this week, I took Pilates for the first time, and assuaged my anxiety about the dentist. (J and I went for our regular dental check-ups this week, as it has been a shameful amount of years since we have each been. And no cavities! For me. Sorry, J.)

Though I am admittedly crippled from my Pilates class (my abs are stil smarting from the assault), things are going exceptionally well right now. First, came the incomparable Roberta. Then, the planned jaunt to Turkey. Then, remember this? Well, it turns out that things did work out for the best, because I got a promotion. An exciting one! Which I am very excited about! EXCITEMENT!

I feel incredibly blessed, like my Far-Far Hakan. (Anytime you ask Hakan how he is, he consistently replies, "Why, I'm blessed, how are you?" He says it so predictably that each time I politely inquire how he is doing, I picture him rolling his eyes and thinking: "I'm blessed, asshat, as always.")

Anyway.

I was expecting some new equipment with the new job; but today it is like Christmas in our living room. I now not only have a new laptop, but also a new desktop computer, which I haven't the faintest idea how to set-up. (Desktop? Does. Not. Compute.) This brings the total number of computers in our home to a whopping 5. Pretty good for a home that did not have Internet prior to 2007.

Why Brides Go Mental.

Dear Wedding Coordinator at an unnamed resort in Jamaica,

Thank you for your instantaneous, copied and pasted response to my wedding inquiry. I very much appreciate your detailed instructions on how to navigate your wedding website. Now, I think I am ready to book my wedding online! Here is my credit card number, expiration date, and security code. Forget the receipt or an agreed upon fee; I trust that you will take a fair amount for the initial deposit. You, Automated Response, have really put my soul at ease during this day-long process.

I am very much looking forward to receiving that email from "someone" on your staff one month before the wedding date to discuss decorations, flowers, the ceremony, the restaurant, the number of guests, etc. It will be wonderful to have all of the details worked out four entire weeks before my eighty guests are due to arrive. Oh hell, Automated Response, why not just surprise my future husband and me with your plans? We trust your judgment. My only request is that you make a tape deck available for my walk down the aisle; it has been my dream since I was a wee little girl to have a canned version of Canon in D played as I prepared to vow my eternal devotion to my beloved. But you already knew that, didn't you? It's like you are inside my mind.

I am putting the e-Vite together as we speak, dear friend.

Love Always,

HomeValley

P.S. Go fuck yourself.

Ex is Best

On Saturday afternoon I headed to P's baby shower with Grace and friends. It was a pleasant afternoon spent sipping white wine spritzers and eating delicious chicken parm, oohing and aahing over baby gear (until Grace snapped at me to stop doing that already!). I also caught up with an old acquaintance whom I have not seen in years, and who also happens to be an ex-girlfriend of J's from long ago.

When I arrived home, J informed me he was taking me out for a surprise on Main Street. And because he is so awesome, he took me here. We decided we'd grab a quick drink, and wasn't my seventh-grade boyfriend bartending at the new Manayunk version of this bar?

We chatted with Seventh-Grade Beau over Miller Lites as scores of people began filtering in... including another one of J's exes. Of course I over-excitedly extended my hand to meet her, when she informed me we had definitely met before.

Naturally.

We all chatted semi-amiably at the bar, but mostly she just seemed uncomfortable. After she left, I mentioned this to J.

"Yeah, I would expect that... That's two exes today - huh!" J said, smiling, as I suddenly noticed my sophomore dance date ordering a drink at the bar.

I ran up to say hello, just as my senior prom date came into view. Hugs all around!

On cue, my junior prom date appeared behind me.

Obviously, J.D. McGillicuddy's in Manayunk is where exes and high school prom dates go to die. You've been warned.

The Vanessa Reunion Tour

Gah!


Good lord; my heart hurts.


Admittedly, I have had far too many margaritas tonight to be writing this, but man. Tonight Vanessa and I met for drinks and dinner at our favorite spot in Midtown, Rio. Remember, Internet? Remember, when I wrote this?


I miss Queens.


And it's not that I don't love my life now; because I do, and I would not change what J and I have for anything in all of God's green goodness. It's just - well, sitting in a cab on my way back to the Courtyard Marriott on East 92nd with tequila coursing through my veins? It ain't right. Shouldn't I be sneaking into a taxi and sweetly telling the driver that we're going to 28-28 29th Street? Seriously?

Back in the hotel. Why are the Las Vegas Real Worlders having a reunion on my television screen? This isn't going to help.

Jesus. I am going to bed. And I am totally erasing this in the morning.

And also: shut up, Alton.

Got Bangkok to Montauk on lock.

There is this feeling I get when I'm about to land in a foreign country. It's an exhilirating mix of awe, excitement, and reverence. It's incredulity. I am where now? And I get to be here for how long? And I am so fucking lucky I might burst from joy?

I get that feeling when I look at our pictures, or when I pass the time checking out our former hotels online. This sensation of unbridled happiness, mixed with a twinge of sadness, for it's never certain we will return to any one place. (Except you, Cambodia. Oh, we will be back.)

Picking a destination is emotional for me, even though, J will assure you, I want to go everywhere, and see everything. Literally. Last night we watched a "program" (as J refers to television shows, as if it is 1956. It is adorable!) on Stockholm, Sweden, and I got way overstimulated and screeched, "The city is made of 24,000 islands?!?!! Oh my God, I cannot WAIT! We have to go, J. Immediately."

But we won't go to Stockholm next (even though I need to get there soon, to visit Uncle Kurt and get down with all the HomeValleys).

Dudes, we are going here in October:

Istanbul or bust, y'all.