What are you doing this weekend?

I’m having Alayna over for dinner tonight, going to pilates tomorrow, having brunch with JK, scrubbing my toilet, taking a nap, babysitting the twins who I don’t get to see much anymore (Owen will likely kick my ass at Wii bowling) and then I’ll be home on Long Island on Sunday to see my dad.

Fun times, right?

Speaking of which, my dad had a consult with Dr. Best Urologist In NYC the other day and they scheduled a laser surgery for him at the end of September. After he recovers from that, Dr. B-U-I-NYC will okay him for his final hip surgery which we are all excited about because THEN HE CAN WALK AGAIN MAYBE? Poor papa has been in a wheelchair since April.

(Also, would it not be incredible if I called my dad “papa” in a legitimate kind of way? Sort of Fiddler on the Roof style? ANYONE? Sunrise! Sunset!)

I called yesterday to ask him about the surgery they’re doing on his…peeing parts.

Dad: LAWRA.

Me: Hey, dad. How’d the consult with the urologist go?

Dad: I MET DA SURGEON AND I’M GONNA HAVE TO GO GET LASERED.

Me: Wow! Why?

Dad: GUESS WHAT? TURNS OUT WHEN I PEE? I ONLY EMPTY HALF MY BLADDA.

Me: Half your bladder? Yikes. How long has this been going on?

Dad: PROBABLY A LONG TIME. I KNEW SOMETHIN’ WAS GOIN’ ON BUT I JUST PUT UP WITH IT.

Me: Why do you do that?! Holy shit.

Dad: IT’S ALL GONNA BE OKAY WHEN THEY LASER ME AND OPEN UP MY, UH, URETHRA THING.

Me: Ouch. So you’ll be able to pee fully then.

Dad: YEAH. ISN’T THAT EXCITIN’?

Me: Heck yeah it is! Emptying the whole bladder sounds like a dream.

Dad: I KNOW! AND DEN I GET A NEW HIP!!!!!!!!

Me: Well, that is freaking amazing.

Dad: I KNOW. PLUS 2ND AVENUE NEAR THE HOSPITAL HAS SO MANY GOOD RESTAURANTS.

Me: I…what?

Dad: WHAT? I JUST LIKE GOIN’ TO THE DOCTA NOW BECAUSE I GET TO EAT ALL DIS GOOD FOOD.

Me: New York City is amazing that way.

Dad: I KNOW. SOME DAY I’M GONNA BE ABLE TO EAT SOMEWHERE AND SIT IN A REAL CHAIR LIKE A REAL PERSON.

Me: You’re a real person now, dad.

Dad: YEAH. BUT I ONLY PEE HALFWAY.

Me: Truth.

AAAAAAAAAAND SCENE.

So, that is what is up with Papa. PAPA D, YO!

His surgery is in two weeks and hopefully it’ll go off without a hitch. They’re keeping him overnight which isn’t customary but the NYC doctors seem to want to take every precaution possible due to his history of deadly infections that almost killed him that one time. OH YEAH REMEMBER THAT?

Anyway, here’s to a wonderful weekend. The temperature here in NYC dropped significantly and it feels like fall is finally settling in which makes me happy because I love pumpkins and candy corn but mostly candy corn. Also, this is my favorite picture taken at the wedding this past weekend even though we’re not all in focus. THERE’S A METAPHOR IN THERE SOMEWHERE.

These are my siblings.

Dear Mom and “Half My Bladda” Dad - You make good babies. Nice work.

Love,
Laura

PS. That’s probably the 2nd time in my life I’ve seen my brother Paul in a suit. I think he looks rather dashing, don’t you?

There was a wedding. (WHICH WAS FREAKING AMAZING.)

And then there was a day coming home from the wedding and then the decision to go out to sing some karaoke that night until 2 am. (Not the best idea but it was worth it when Tom and David got up to sing a duet of Destiny’s Child’s “Bills, Bills, Bills”. COME ON NOW.)

And the following night, there was an 80th birthday party for my grandmother and I’m not going to confirm or deny it but it’s POSSIBLE that a family member came over to me toward the end of the night and told me I looked fat in my dress and y’all, that’s where I hit the breaking point of Time Spent With My Family.

I’m going to tell you something which by now should be completely obvious but I am a Highly Sensitive Person.

My mom is rolling her eyes right now because DUH and also, WHO CARES?

But I care.

You can find out if you are a Highly Sensitive Person here.

You’ll be pleased to know that I scored a 26 on that test. OHHHHHHHHHHHH YEAH.

My point is that I’ve been examining how fine a line it is, between knowing yourself (I AM A HIGHLY SENSITIVE PERSON) and getting attached to the labels you put on yourself to the point where you’re pretty annoying and high maintenance and all you can talk about is what a delicate flower you are, a super special snowflake of unique sensitivities that needs to be properly cared for at all times.

You know?

I think it’s good to know yourself. I think it’s important to be aware of your personality and your viewpoint and things that trigger negative reactions and behaviors within yourself. However, it’s really hard for me to accept that self-knowledge is a good thing because it feels selfish and somewhat irritating to be that person who’s all OH I AM SENSITIVE TO CHAOTIC SURROUNDINGS EXCUSE ME WHILE I SHUT MYSELF IN A DARKENED ROOM.

As far as I can see, this kind of judgment of myself is a learned behavior. My family members are super fun hilarious awesome and can be very nurturing people. But they also have a very ingrained DARE I SAY PROTESTANT? work ethic and a PULL YOURSELF UP BY YOUR BOOTSTRAPS mentality. I’m not doing a good job at explaining it but let’s just say that for awhile, I looked down on people who had allergies because OH MY GOD TOUGHEN UP, SISSY.

Allergies. And other forms of sickness, I think. The go-to in my family, maybe not so much with physical illness, but definitely mental illness is that you could fix it yourself if you tried hard enough. (Depression, etc.) This is a very old way of thinking, I realize that. And due to the fact that things like depression run in the family, the understanding and acceptance has really grown.

And yet, I still super get annoyed with people and their allergies. SO! OKAY! I HAVE SOME WORK TO DO.

My point is that I didn’t necessarily learn to be accepting of others’ limitations so my own insecurity still rears its head when I learn something specific about myself. I don’t want to come off as annoying but I’m learning I have to take care to avoid certain situations that push me toward a breaking point. You can’t always stay away from such triggers but I do think it’s up to you to do what you can. There’s nothing wrong with that, right?

And this is maybe where the line is drawn - it’s up to you to take personal responsibility for the things you know about yourself. It’s acceptable for me to say I AM A HIGHLY SENSITIVE PERSON AND MUST REMOVE MYSELF FROM THIS ENVIRONMENT IN ORDER TO COOL DOWN AND NOT STAB SOMEONE IN THE KIDNEYS. It’s not acceptable for me to say I AM A HIGHLY SENSITIVE PERSON, PLEASE BE AWARE OF THIS AND DO EVERYTHING IN YOUR POWER TO MAKE ME FEEL COMFORTABLE. It’s not up to others. It’s up to me.

All this family time over the long weekend was overwhelming for me, mostly in a very positive way. But sensory overload is sensory overload and I didn’t plan accordingly. I didn’t meditate at all, I brought clothes to go for a jog but was too tired to actually do it and I never paused to catch my breath or get centered before moving onto the next activity.

The result was not terrible. (I DIDN’T MURDER ANYONE! YAY!) But I did finally snap, in the car about five minutes away from home, physically pulling away from those around me and screaming something charming like I HATE ALL OF YOU. It was an interesting reaction to look at because in the moment, it was as if I had no control. My family is loud and there are lots of people and it was like every single word out of everyone’s mouth, every time someone touched me, all of it was building and building until it had nowhere to go because I was in the backseat of a CAR, right? So then I exploded.

And it wasn’t kind.

And I made a mistake.

So there you go.

Lesson learned! It is okay to be a Highly Sensitive Person! But maybe that Highly Sensitive Person needs to let herself take a nap or get out of the car for a second to stretch. This trip would’ve been a little more smooth for me (and others around me HA HA SORRY GUYS!) had I taken the time to take care of myself…which I used to think was selfish. But now I see as simply necessary.

That people with allergies thing though?

I gotta work on it.

Or maybe they just need to SUCK IT UP AND STOP COMPLAINING.

Either one.

Tom suggested that I videotape my father wishing Christine and her fiance, Scott, a happy marriage so she could have a little bit of his presence.

I taped it last weekend and my family was standing around trying really hard not to laugh because this video, you guys? Is incredible. And so I am posting it here. Near the end, my father catches sight of all of us smothering our laughter, gets a little self-conscious and starts laughing himself. It’s pretty cute.

A few things about this video:

1. Some of you may or may not know that my father is a birthday party clown, that he got started in church ministry about ten years ago, doing silly skits at religious functions and how it grew into his own tiny business of doing ridiculous magic tricks at five year old parties. Anyway, this will explain the balloon creature sitting on my father’s head in the video below and will also explain the references by both my mother and my father to his clown name - Floppy the Clown.

2. If any of you ever thought I was exaggerating the accent of my Brooklyn father…

YOU ARE IN FOR SUCH A TREAT.

Watching this video even reminded ME, the girl who has known him for 27 years, that HOLY COW YOU GUYS! That accent is out of this world.

So, on that note. Click and enjoy and please note that I gave no instruction beyond “Say hi to Christine and Scott!” The story and the outfit were entirely my dad’s idea.

And so it goes.

Congrats On Your Marriage from The Spectrum on Vimeo.

Ah, I kid. Shit keeps getting AWESOMER.

I’m pretty excited about Sunday’s event as my cousin Christine will be the beautiful bride. She is a regular reader of The Spectrum, a natural redhead and Tom’s oldest sister. I kept telling people this and then would go on to talking more about the wedding like “And then his other sister and then his brother” and everyone was like wait, how many kids are in Tom’s family?

Six, you guys. The answer is six. I know. They’re super cute, right?

Tom and his family were my closest relatives growing up (living only seven minutes away) and we went on family vacations and swam in their pool every day during the summer and went out to eat to celebrate birthdays and you can imagine the raised eyebrows we got everywhere we went as our two families together added up to ten children.

I KNOW. TEN. It’s like, more than the Von Trapps.

Christine is two month’s older than my brother Paul and with Tom and I close behind in age, the four of us spent quite a lot of time together. My childhood memories often involve the four of us, sometimes bickering (Tom & Christine), sometimes crying (Me) but mostly laughing. So much laughter. Sleepovers that made us laugh so hard and for so long that my mother would come barging into our rooms threatening to kill us all or send someone home or make us go to church for five hours the next morning.

Summers are the most vivid in my mind, probably because of school being out and the opportunity for those hysterica-inducing sleepovers. But there were also long afternoons in Tommy and Christine’s pool, silly rhymes we would make up as we jumped off the diving board, flips we would attempt, songs we would scream. I remember sitting at wooden picnic tables after a long afternoon of swimming, wrapped in a terrycloth beach towel, ponytail dripping water down my back as I dug into a hamburger, macaroni salad, watermelon, surrounded by my cousins.

I remember Christine pointing out that my hair was turning green, which it would, every summer thanks to the chlorine. It would get all slimey and there would be jokes about a swamp monster and it was funny but it stung because I was so envious of Christine’s hair. Perfect, beautiful red hair. I totally and completely worshipped everything about her. The way she walked, the way she talked, her likes and dislikes, tried so hard to claim them as my own. As if that would make me more cool, less gangly, less….green-haired swamp monster girl.

But it didn’t ever work. No matter how hard I tried, I was still myself, much to my 11 year old chagrin.

Sometimes before dinner, we’d jump on our bicycles and go cruising around the neighborhood, Christine as leader. We’d follow her through the winding shady streets of Port Jefferson, past the houses with sprinklers in the yard, past the babies in the kiddie pools. We’d pick out our favorite houses, our favorite street names. Other times we would ride in silence, listening only to our feet pumping down on the pedals, some lazy crooning birds, crickets, bike tires zooming over pebbles and sand.

Christine is summer. Of that I can be sure. Jumping into the deep end, passing me a hot dog, giggling hysterically in the backseat of her dad’s van on the long drive upstate.

I see her now only on special occasions, family parties or Christmas as she and her soon-to-be-husband now live in Massachusetts. Seeing her brings all those things back to me, little pieces at a time, jumping into a lake in Cooperstown, riding Space Mountain three times in a row, the barrettes in her beautiful hair. Sometimes when I think about the fact that she’s getting married on Sunday, I can’t believe it’s actually allowed. I mean, surely she’s still too young, right?

But she isn’t.

She’s grown. And she’s lovely. And when I see her, it’s like no time has passed at all.

In my mind, we’re still small. Still ripping open Christmas presents on Christmas Eve, singing happy birthday as she blows out the candles on a cake, playing freeze tag on her front lawn as the fireflies flickered around us in the summer dusk.

My childhood. My happiness.

And maybe someday soon, we’ll jump on a bicycle for old times’ sake. We’ll ride around and around, so much taller and stronger than we ever have been. Adults, now. People who have jobs and apartments and husbands and different sorts of dreams.

But underneath, we’re still the same. Pumping those pedals, flying down hills, the beautiful red-haired girl and the gangly blonde swamp monster.

Congratulations, little Cheeko. You will be a most beautiful bride.

Me, Christine, Paul

1. How to correctly pronounce “Budapest”.
2. If you charge your credit card and tell yourself you’ll pay it off later, you probably won’t.
3. If you’ve had too much to drink, taking a multi-vitamin before bed will prevent a hangover.
4. Men that want to date you will let you know. If they don’t, they’re not ‘busy’ or ‘working up the courage’. They just don’t actually want to date you.
5. How to say “Good morning, I’d like a cappuccino!” in Italian.
6. Saying ‘no’ to people doesn’t make you an asshole.
7. Living with people is hard but it’s something you need to know how to do. Some nights there will be dishes left in the sink and crumbs all over the floor and some nights there will be someone in bed with you sipping champagne and watching YouTube videos. There is a metaphor for life in there somewhere.
8. What my dad looks like with gray hair.
9. You should set the timer when cooking pasta because otherwise, you forget when it’s done and mushy pasta is gross.
10. Olive green is not a flattering shade on you.
11. Navy blue is though.
12. There’s usually two sides to every story and blame usually rests to some degree on both parties BUT BUT BUT - 1% of the time, it’s actually 100% the other person who goes batshit crazy. Not your fault, dude. Not. Your. Fault.
13. Vodka is not your friend.
14. The guy at the bagel store is named Steve. For five years, you thought it was Dominic. Total fail. Good guess, though.
15. There is no time line for marriage and babies and successful careers. You think there is. You think it matters. You know what? It doesn’t.
16. Caffeine affects the intensity of menstrual cramps. And your sanity. Drink accordingly.
17. A really good snack is a bunch of chocolate chips stirred into a tablespoon of chunky peaut butter.
18. It’s not really ever okay to talk shit about someone. No matter how much they piss you off. No. Seriously.
19. You can’t make pesto in a blender. Invest in a food processor.
20. Sometimes things will get really dark, black maybe. But the light always tends to come back in, slowly maybe. In slits or in huge bursts, the light comes back in. Always. This is the way life goes, my dear. This is the way life goes.

This is a big deal you guys because Alayna and I live pretty far away from each other as far as NYC neighborhoods go and we rarely get to veg on each other’s couches as best friends are supposed to do. However, Alayna is going through a lot of things right now that involve lots of her cash. (Upcoming wedding! Starting grad school!) So she’s all, WE SHOULD HANG OUT! and I say YEAH! And she says EXCEPT I CAN ONLY DO FREE THINGS! So a few weeks ago, I told her we could go for a walk (free!), go for a walk and talk (super free!) or she could come over and we could eat the food in my fridge.

She chose that last one. Which is wise. Because there is also wine in my fridge.

And so we have sort of established a little ritual of Friday night dinners AKA Laura Throws Everything In A Pan and Calls It Dinner.

(You want to be my friend, right? You should. It sounds gross, I know, to come over and eat my leftovers. But last Friday night, I made creamy fettucini with corn, arugula and heirloom tomatoes and I FELT LIKE A TOP CHEF! Minus having Padma Lakshmi tasting it which is sad because Padma is amazing and I met her twice. I KNOW!)

I’m only telling you about dinners with Alayna on Friday because I’m about to blame her for the super weird dream I had the last time she was over.

CONTRIBUTING FACTORS TO MY WEIRD DREAM THAT I CAN BLAME ALAYNA FOR:

1. Alayna told me while we were eating dinner that she keeps having pregnancy dreams. And before you freak out that she’s pregnant, you should know that all dream analysis books/websites seem to suggest that you dream about pregnancy while going through big life changes. This makes sense to me for Alayna because I’d say getting married and going back to school are PRETTY FREAKING BIG LIFE CHANGES.

SHE put the pregnancy idea in my head. SHE DID.

Also:

B) There was a lot of wine drinking involved. I think alcohol before bed or creamy fettucini before bed or both contribute to some WEIRD ASS DREAMS, you guys.

So, thanks, Alayna. You are dead to me.

I went to bed Friday night and dreamed that I was pregnant.

Of course.

And the feeling I had about being pregnant was VERY VERY ANXIOUS. I was going into labor when I suddenly decided I didn’t want to be pregnant, couldn’t possibly have a baby, could NOT HANDLE IT SOMEONE HELP ME! And I ran around (a gazillion months pregnant) asking those around me (in the hospital) what to do, begging for help.

It was disturbing, man.

And no one helped! As is customary in a dream where you are working yourself into more and more of an intense panic.

The doctors around me were all, “Whatever. Too late now.”

And I turned to my mother and she said very matter-of-fact, “Yeah. You should’ve gone into labor sooner. I’m not sure why you waited so long. Your stomach is too stretched out and your ass will never look the same and something is VERY wrong with your feet.”

I…

What?

It should be noted that my mother has probably said “ass” out loud maybe three times in her whole life. And once was in my dream. When I was pregnant.

And what the heck did she mean by “You waited too long”?!? As if I had a choice!? And WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH MY FEET? Do I have bunions? Did my feet stretch out? Did I grow an extra toe? I COULDN’T SEE BECAUSE MY PREGNANT STOMACH WAS IN THE WAY! Oh, help.

In a moment of desperation, contracting like crazy and crying because no one will calm me down, I turned to Twitter.

Um. Yeah.

IN MY DREAM, I turned to the internet which just goes to show you where I’m used to getting my comfort. And advice.

I’m not sure whether Twitter ended up coming through for me. I can’t remember.

I DO remember that there was constant music in the background of my dream, all the songs I had listened to before bed while doing my crossword puzzle. (Have you ever tried to do a crossword puzzle after drinking lots of wine? It’s hard, you guys. I think I stared at #57 across for about two full minutes without blinking and then I e-mailed Laurie to ask her if she knew the answer. She didn’t.)

So there’s a lovely soundtrack to my dream as I’m running around screaming and crying and my mom’s all AND YOUR ASS WILL NEVER BE THE SAME and then I turn my head and I hear snippets of Walking In Memphis and I remember realizing I was dreaming and being like WAIT. WHAT THE ????? YOU LISTEN TO WEIRD MUSIC, DUDE.

Finally, I run smack into Christopher Lloyd circa “Taxi” who wasn’t my main doctor but a friendly surgical resident. (This is how he introduced himself.) For some reason, this was EXTREMELY comforting. Christopher Lloyd calmed me down immediately. I told him I wasn’t ready, I was doing it all by myself! I didn’t have a partner! I was scared!

Christopher Lloyd told me to calm down, that everything was going to be okay, that he’d coach me through labor and that my ass would totally go back to normal.

And then I woke up.

And was all, WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT????

I’m not going through any major life changes right now, ALAYNA. I don’t need to have panic-inducing pregnancy dreams, ALAYNA. And that’s the last time I invite you over for dinner. You with your encouragement of wine and pasta before bed! You with your comments about pregnancy and dreams and anxiety and panic! YOU YOU YOU.

But Christopher freaking Lloyd?

Sorry to say.

That one was all me.

I don’t know where he came from.

Somewhere deep in my sub-conscious.

But I was sure glad he showed up.

Interpretations? Thoughts? I SURE COULD USE SOME.

“Even when you think you’re being weird? You’re not. I mean, I’m sure you FEEL like you’re being weird but you’re actually just mostly adorable.”

That could be the most incredible compliment I’ve ever received because you guys?

This whole time?

I didn’t realize I was being quirky cute weird.

I thought I was being WEIRD weird.

My God, it is good to have friends.

Oh, yes. It is.

P.S. “Despicable Me” was awesome.

“Eat pasta and drink wine with Tom…” was not so much about literally eating the pasta and drinking the wine but sharing the Italian experience with my cousin, my bestest friend in all the land. It was more about taking a trip, quality time, enjoying something new together. We rarely get to do this because he lives in Los Angeles and I live in NYC and I see him about twice a year and cue: SAD FACE. I figured something like Italy would happen eventually but I didn’t know when and because it didn’t seem that urgent to me, I didn’t make a plan or take any steps to make it happen.

And then, lo and behold, it just…sort of happened.

Mondo Beyondo is magic, y’all.

There was an engagement and a wedding and our cousin sent out invitations and it was “I’m going, are you?” “We should!” “Okay, but for real!” “FOR REAL ARE WE DOING THIS?” “YES FOR REAL OKAY!”

There were frantic e-mails back and forth and airline price watching and suddenly, we were in Italy! And every single evening for twelve days straight, we clinked our wine glasses at a sidewalk café, laughing hysterically over the awkwardness that was Every Single Person Thinking We Were Romantic Partners and then much crying into our food after those long exhausting talks that best friends have after so many months apart. Especially best friends who are also cousins who have a very long history. Careers and relationships and inside jokes and family problems and are you going to finish that? because I’m still hungry…

And of course, it wasn’t just about the wine and the food.

(Okay, it was sort of just about the wine and the food.)

BUT REALLY. It was about all those spontaeous, random things that happen when you travel. Things that I don’t necessarily handle very well because I’m sort of attached to KNOWING WHAT IS HAPPENING AT ALL TIMES. But when I’m able to let this go and relinquish control, I very much like those moments that I didn’t expect. The things I did that I never set out to do in the first place.

Like, kick Tom’s ass in checkers at a park.

Or go to the aquarium in Genoa and die laughing over the girl who kept making her boyfriend take model pictures of her in front of every fish tank. We followed suit, naturally.

Also, Tom is creative with fruit!

Also, we were the only two single people at that wedding! True story! Here is our SAD FACE + WINE + I think that’s saffron risotto omg:

Anyway.

Italy happened. (And Switzerland happened as a bonus!) And I forgot all about the fact that an item on my Mondo Beyondo list was actually coming true until a few days into our trip when we found ourselves in a small town called Nervi, a couple of train stops out of Genoa.

You see, one of the mistakes I made awesome things I did while planning our trip was to scope out the NY Times travel section in the name of research and inspiration. I found a great feature for almost every city we were traveling to called “36 Hours In…[NAME OF CITY]. It was a lovely list of non-touristy, out of the way things to do that you could accomplish in about 36 hours. (If you hauled ass.) The items were really good though - places to eat and what to order, museums to check out, where to find the best of everything.

Tom went ballistic over these lists. I mean, clutched those printed out lists while running around Italy like his life DEPENDED ON IT. And part of me was like OH MY GOD ARE YOU KIDDING ME WITH THIS? as I tried to pry the list from his clenched fists and the other part of me was like I SECRETLY LOVE THIS because, come on, it is coolness to not be such an American tourist with a fanny pack eating at a restaurant next to the Colosseum, you feel me?

Anyway, on our Genoa list, there was a gelateria listed, owned by a 23 year old named Rosa, who is now Tom’s Facebook friend. We got to talking while eating some DAMN GOOD gelato (I had dairy-free chocolate, made with apple juice instead of milk, WHAT? Rosa. You rock my world.) and Rosa was so! excited! to talk to New Yorkers! in English! She went on and on about all the fun stuff to do in Genoa and we were all, Rosa, this is super sad but we leave tomorrow and WHY DIDN’T WE COME HANG OUT WITH YOU SOONER?

But Rosa was not to be deterred and told us that even though it was 5 pm on our last day in town, we should hop the train to Nervi and go jump in the Mediterranean Sea. And I was all WHAT? THAT IS CRAZY. And Tom was all, THAT ISN’T ON MY LIST!? And Rosa was all, it is a super great town and you can jump off the rocks into the sea all night long and there are delicious restaurants on the coast and my friend owns a pizzeria! You should go! And tell him Rosa sent you!

Tom and I walked back to find my sister and her boyfriend and were sort of like, “Um. You guys want to go swimming?”

There was a pause as we all mulled it over.

It was already past six.

And we had to leave the next day.

And it was sort of random and I don’t know…

AND YES, OKAY, LET US SWIM AND EAT THE PIZZA!

And so we did.

We put on our suits, grabbed towels, got on a train and went to climb down the rocks in Nervi, all the way to the sea.

The water was warm and salty and went on forever. The sun was setting as we swam and I remember just floating there at one point, the water covering my ears so everything sounded muffled, staring up at this blue sky, thinking it might be quite alright if this was my last day on earth because oh, perfection, I have found you.

Later, we walked up to Rosa’s friend’s pizzeria and indulged in some of the best wine of the whole trip. We were all laughing about something ridiculous when it hit me - that I was eating and drinking with Tom! At a table on the sidewalk in Italy! And I was all YOU GUYS! MONDO BEYONDO! And then I maybe started crying a little bit and my sister took our picture before I got too out of control.

And then I stopped crying and concentrated on my pizza and finishing the white sparkling wine and then it was all gone and SAD FACE.

The trip to Italy was overwhelming for me sometimes because it was so much goodness in light of so much recent negativity. The health issues with my father, the lack of career momentum, the fact that I am alone, romantically. It was as if, on that trip, everything was alright. My relationship with my sister deepened and intensified, I was relaxed and well fed and wandering around ITALY, and geeeeeeeez. Thankfully, as an added bonus, my friendship with Tom made me realize over and over, every day, how lucky I am to have that one person who understands me on a level that many people don’t.

That person who I’ve known since the day he was born. That person who I can communicate so much with, even silently, without much effort at all. Stupid jokes and model poses and jazz hands and cheers, drink up! And pasta and you’ve GOT to try this and this is the best day of my entire life. There’s something really magical about having such a person. The person who, when they’re around, makes you feel a lot less alone and never lonely. Makes you feel like no matter what happens, you’ve got unspoken understanding and constant unconditional compassion and in this big huge world of oceans and planes and plates of pasta, we have each other and everything is going to be alright.

That is what making my Mondo Beyondo list has been about, ultimately: forming and maintaining connections to other people and other experiences and being present enough to realize how awesome they are, as they are happening. Remembering not to rush toward the next city but to stay present in the one you’re in and to take that risk and even though you don’t know how cold the water might be, to jump in. Go ahead. It’ll be fine.

We’re okay.

You and me.

The world is so much bigger than we think and so much smaller, too. And regardless of monetary wealth and career success and long-term relationship status, how fortunate to have people in your life who will sit in the passenger seat as you drive and tell you a story and sing you a song. Or who simply take over for you when you get too tired and can’t see the road anymore.

So, yeah, okay. Let’s raise a glass to #28. Food and drink with my very favorite person. On a spontaneous trip to the sea, on a very warm July night in Italy. Thank you, Tom, for the dreams you encourage me to keep dreaming and for videotaping me jumping into the Mediterranean like a muppet.

xo,
Loo

Swim In Nervi from The Spectrum on Vimeo.

Which is why I created my Mondo Beyondo list.

Which I realized recently might come across as really self-centered. I mean, we can’t ALL make a Mondo Beyondo list. We can’t all travel to China and see the Mona Lisa and learn to parasail and isn’t it selfish to even write down that you want to do those things?

Well. No.

And it’s because ultimately, the Mondo Beyondo list is not necessarily about checking items off a list. Or doing things for ME and not for YOU. At its core, the Mondo Beyondo list is a reminder that the world contains some really awesome magical experiences. Sometimes you have to create those yourself. (I forget this.) And sometimes, the universe just bestows upon you some pretty kick ass gifts. The key is to be open to these and to acknowledge them, to take them and then send up some gratitude because life, after all, is beautiful.

CUE: YOU ARE THE WIND BENEATH MY WINGS.

Anyway. I will be talking about Mondo Beyondo some more in another post because WHY NOT?

But this post, THIS POST! is about the Saturday I spent with my brother and sister-in-law a few weeks ago.

We started out having a late brunch and didn’t part until after midnight.

I love days like this.

And the whole reason it happened was because I called my brother and was all YOU OWE ME SOME COLD BREW COFFEE BECAUSE I BLOGGED ABOUT IT AND WE NEVER HAD IT AND YOU SUCK.

And Paul was all, COFFEE? WHERE?

And so it was.

We had brunch at Extra Virgin down on West 4th St. Highly recommend. I had a glass of Gavi di Gavi wine which pretty much makes any brunch awesome. Sophie is drinking a raspberry mojito. Highly recommend that as well.

Then we went for a walk and stumbled upon the newly opened Limelight market which is sort of like a mall built inside a church. It’s New York City. I can’t explain it.

And to think, all this time I’ve been giving my baby an UNorganic massage. I AM SUCH A FAILURE.

Sophie bought some kind of body scrub and a jug of white tea and Paul and I split a red velvet whoopie pie. You heard that correctly. Red. Velvet. Whoopie. Pie.

We finally stumbled out of the Limelight on a sugar high and walked toward the Ace Hotel for some Stumptown cold brew coffee. I had heard about this from a philosophy classmate a few months back and he had declared it hands down the best iced coffee of his life. I was all, OH PLEASE, HOW GOOD COULD IT BE?

Uh. That good, people. And cheap! I think $2.75 and they didn’t charge me extra for my soy milk. Always a plus in my book.

Paul had to turn away from the cashier so he wouldn’t totally geek out, took one sip and mouthed to me behind his hand OH MY GOD!!!

It was that delish.

Then we took our coffees (and Soph’s mocha) into the Ace Hotel lobby to sit on big couches and people watch. It was quite possibly the most wonderful way to spend a Saturday afternoon.

We even popped into the old school photobooth but couldn’t figure out how it worked. (WE ARE NOT THAT SMART.) So the first picture is of our shirts as we had no idea that the camera would start clicking and WHERE it was coming from. We also couldn’t manage to get Paul into any photo. Sophie looks like a newspaper boy and I look like something from Little House on the Prairie but what the heck else is new?

After our leisurely coffee sipping, we wandered down to Madison Square Park to see the “Event Horizon” art installation which involved statues of 31 men placed in the park and on the roofs of the buildings surrounding it. The best part was looking up and seeing these dudes watching you. Maybe it was creepy? But maybe it was awesome.

(I stole this picture from here as I didn’t get to take any photos of the dudes. PHOTOGRAPHY FAIL.)

Then Paul declared it “TIME TO EAT ASIAN FOOD” which is a regular occurrence with us Dlugs. We hit up some tasty Thai food in the East Village and I am still dreaming about their chive pancakes. STILL.

We ended our evening at my friend Mike’s bar at the cheesiest Mexican restaurant of all time in the West Village for some margaritas and Coronas. HOW CHEESY is this bar/restaurant, you ask? So cheesy that if it’s your birthday, they stop the music and play a blaring rendition of LA BAMBA as the disco balls and Christmas lights strewn around the restaurant flash.

OH. YES.

I’d call the day a total success. We had sibling quality time, tons of laughs and that cold brew coffee. Oh, I am dreaming of it still.

For a girl who usually spends Saturday sleeping in and then babysitting, this was the most excitement I’d had in awhile. It makes me so happy to say that spending time with family makes me really content. And that I would choose to hang out with my siblings even if we weren’t related.

That says a lot, I think.

It helps that my brother bought my brunch AND my dinner.

But that whoopie pie?

That whoopie pie was ALL ME.

YOU ARE WELCOME.