Things that Make Me Saner

Immediately after I wrote that post about being at that bad place with the bar exam, a few things happened. First, things got worse. (That's always the way, isn't it?) I had a crying breakdown to Julie over gmail chat, wherein I sat typing in all of the reasons that I was such a mess. In case you're curious, typing down all of the reasons that you're feeling batshit insane isn't necessarily the best way to make yourself less so. You're just confronted with your insanity in black and white, and by your own hand, and you feel more absurd and yet strangely less able to do anything about it. But Julie calmed me down by reminding me that it's just a day, and that my only goal was to get through the day before I could move on to worrying about the next day, or the intervening days between then and test day. And then I felt better because she was being so reasonable and calm and normal.

I felt better right up until later that day when some perv walked into the library and started touching himself in plain sight of me. I shit you not. There are actually people who think that kind of behavior is okay, people who walk into public libraries, libraries full of sweet little children, and touch themselves because they are perverted sick bastards. And that was about the time I remembered why I'm doing what I'm doing, that in the end, law is a way to keep pervs like that guy off of the street, out of your library, and away from your kids. Dude, law can help and so can I!

And then I had another breakdown. But then, THEN I got a phone call from one friend and an email from another, both of whom have been here before, both of whom have taken this test, who know how positively soul-destroying it can be. It helps that both of these women are the kind of women whose advice and counsel I respect and seek out. And even though I listened to their words and thought, "but they don't know how little I know about Commercial Paper," I started to see that there was some light at the end of the tunnel. And I actually started to remember what I feel like when I'm not taking the bar exam. Except, of course, that we ate pie for dinner last night. That's still not normal.

Every day this week I've been studying in the Lexington Library, right down the street from where Matt works. It gets me up and out of the house in the morning, plus it keeps me on Matt's schedule, which is good, because if I was left to my own devices I'd study between the hours of midnight and noon, instead of the other way around. Because we're in such close proximity, I've had the chance to meet Matt for lunch. Monday was a shared salami sub, Tuesday we tried the Indian restaurant in Lexington, Wednesday we had caprese salad and tuna fish, Thursday we went to the Japanese/Chinese restaurant (don't ask), and today we're meeting for chicken sandwiches. Every single meal has been tailored to my bizarre and unreasonable cravings, cravings that occasionally (read: usually) change in between the time that I voice them and the time I'm eating, so that I'll get to a restaurant and stare at a menu for 10 or 12 minutes, wondering what on earth I'll do if I order the sushi box when in the end I really want chicken and broccoli, oh the choices are so overwhelming! It's tough, I know. But lunch with Matt is the absolute highlight of my day, the very best and most indulgent moment that I allow myself at this point in the process. We talk about anything but the bar exam, and we spend a few minutes lamenting the fact that we'll have to give up our midday lunch dates when the exam is over and I'm (presumably, hopefully, please oh please!) working.

The past two nights I've come home to care packages. These care packages are full to the brim with items that will surely rot my teeth, but that also make me extremely thankful that I have friends and family who love me enough to help me rot my teeth. You know you're doing well when your peeps basically send you a message that says, "of COURSE you're going to pass the bar exam. And when all of your teeth fall out, we'll STILL think you're a fantastic lawyer and a pretty great friend/sister-in-law. Although, we will then reserve the right to encourage you to find a dentist. But we'll do it gently, and with love." From the very bottom of my toothless grin, I love you guys. Thanks for thinking of me.

So it's just four wee little days before the exam and even though I had a mental breakdown in the car today (nothing to do with the test, no, this one was all about why I didn't just become a saxophone teacher, nevermind the fact that I've never even held a saxophone in my life. Sure, Lizzi, it had NOTHING to do with the exam.), I'm feeling mostly alright. I mean, I'm surrounded by a mountain of candy, I've got lunch to look forward to, and there are pervs in my library. I can feel it already: it's going to be an exciting four days! But seriously this time, I'm doing alright. I mean, it IS going to be an exciting four days, but after these four days and then those excruciating two days of the exam, it will all be over. And then my biggest concern will be the future of my dental hygiene.

Because She Helped Me To Like Scallops

Hello Internet! Remember back when we were on the trip and we'd write up birthday messages for the people whose birthdays we didn't get to celebrate because we were halfway around the world? Well we've stopped that feature since we've been home because we're, you know, HOME to actually celebrate people's birthdays. But there are some people in our lives who we think deserve to have their birthday blogged about, who we love so much that we just can't contain what we have to say about them.

Which brings me to the subject of this post. Our favorite Cris turned 30 last week and she was out of town and away from the internet (oh, the horror!). So I waited to post this until today, when I know she'll be at work and bored out of her mind. I actually wrote this post while we were gone, because when you're thousands of miles away from your friends and family, it's nice to write about them because they feel closer somehow. (For those of you out there whose birthdays have already passed who are wondering where YOUR birthday posts are, hang tight, I WILL get them to you, I promise.) But, without further ado, a birthday tribute to Cris:

Julie sent me some pictures of the little one today, and as I stared at the pictures of this beautiful baby girl in her little red hat, ready to be loved and adored by her family at Easter, it occurred to me just how much I miss that little one and her family. I only met little-C once, back when she was a wee little one-month-old, but those few moments spent holding her were perfect and precious. She looked like her father to me then, but today, looking at those pictures of her smiling in her red hat, I saw her mom's bright and pretty eyes smiling back at me, her mouth the same happy grin of Cris's. And it just about melted my heart.

I met Cris sometime early on in college. Our paths crossed and doubled back over each other through student life and Scotch n' Soda, winding its way over mutual friends and experiences. We really met through J, and for the first three years of our friendship we danced around each other, not entirely sure how we felt about each other, probably suspecting that we could be friends, but not entirely sure how to get there from here.

But all of that changed one week in March during our senior year. It was spring break and it was New Orleans, hot and muggy and drunk and antiquated, New Orleans. We literally ran into Cris and J and their merry gang of spring breakers on the street, and if you've ever been to New Orleans, you know what a surprise it is to run into someone you know. "Wait," you think to yourself, "YOU like this much debauchery too?!" And then you laugh and get a daiquiri and several hours later you've realized that duh, of COURSE you both like this much debauchery, and perhaps you should get married and have little debaucherous children together. And another daiquiri.

Cris's feet were badly sunburned, and when I say badly, I'm grossly underestimating the pain that she was in. AIR caused her pain, they were THAT sunburned. It hurt my feet to look at her feet. And yet there she was, walking around Bourbon street, drinking and laughing and having a good time. And all at once, somewhere between the time she and a few others went to watch a sex show, but before I showed my boobs off to a balcony of leering men, it occurred to me that Cris was one of the coolest women I'd met in a long, long time, and that if J continued to be an idiot about her, I'd have to beat him up.

Fast forward a few years and a few weddings and a few different cities and here we are. Over the years Cris has become someone who is a true-blue friend. Which is to say that she'd beat up anyone who had anything bad to say about me; she loves Matt fiercely and protectively (which I know because she almost always laughs at his jokes, even the truly terrible ones); and she silently suffers with worry about where we are in the world, following our itinerary to the letter, keenly aware of whether or not we're in harm's way.

In the past few months we've had a lot of time to think about our upcoming move to Boston. We keep saying over and over again that one of the best things about living in Boston will be that we'll have the chance to watch little-C grow up, that we'll get to be a part of her life almost from the very beginning. But we've also spent a lot of time talking about the fact that in addition to the little one, we'll get to watch her parents grow up too, that we get to be a part of their lives almost from the very beginning too. Because Cris came into my life at a time when I was still figuring out what it meant to be an adult, and while at the time it meant flashing a group full of strangers for a strand of shiny, plastic beads, it now means a lifetime full of wonderful meals, ordinary treasures, good jokes and bad jokes, and watching our families become grown-ups together.

Happy 30th birthday, Crissy. I promise that you're only as old as you feel. And if it makes any difference, there's a part of you that will always be just 21 to me.

love,
lizzi and matt

Because You Asked, Part Two

Q: Place where you wish you had more time to visit?

A: Ok, Steph asked this question waaaay back when we were in Alleppey. We answered the one about the weirdest person we'd met and if we watched TV, but at the time, we felt that we were ill-equipped to answer this one. Sure, we'd already finished almost two-thirds of the trip and only two new countries lay ahead of us, but we didn't want to cheat any one of them. So we held back. Of course, life got the better of us, and I didn't find the question again until today when I was feeling all nostalgic for the trip. Lizzi and I have talked a lot about this, and we feel that it would be best if we each answered this question.

Matt's Version
It's kind of a cop-out to say that I wish I could have spent more time everywhere we visited. Four months is just way too short for our itinerary. When I look back and see that, on average, we spent less than 3 days in any one place, I realize that we only just nicked the tip of the iceberg. But before I make my pick, I want to say that there isn't a single place we visited where I wouldn't want to spend some more time. Despite the rough time we had in Vietnam, I would wish we could have spent some more time there to really find something to enjoy about it. I'm convinced that if we'd had more time we could have escaped Hanoi and found something wonderful about northern Vietnam.

With that said, it shouldn't come as much of a surprise when I say that I wish we could have spent more time in Nepal. Even though we spent two weeks there, we really only got to see a small part of Kathmandu Valley, not to mention just a sliver of the country as a whole. But what's hardest for me to believe is that we went to Nepal and didn't spend a single day trekking. Not one! All of those glorious mountains went completely unexplored. I mean, if you're going to Nepal, you really should do some trekking. Personally, I have a dream of returning to Nepal to hike up to the Everest base camp or maybe trek the snowy ridges of the Annapurna Range. No matter what I desperately want to go back just to take in the vast outdoor adventures of the Himalayas.

But it's not all crampons and ice axes for me. Some of our friends at VSN who had more time ended up in Pokara, as well as a number of ashrams and even some of the more rural areas outside of Kathmandu. I'm not really a touchy-feely guy, but some of the meditation/yoga retreats sounded really relaxing, and, hey, I'm willing to try anything once.

Still, I feel that I didn't get all that I could have out of Kathmandu. The city has a little bit of everything from the adrenaline-addicted climbers to the electronic-music raves that went till the wee hours of the morning. With so much to experience, two short weeks really didn't do the city justice.

And, finally, there are the kids. I would go back in a heartbeat to spend more time with them, helping to build them a better school or lifting them high into the air just hear them laugh. Lizzi's not sure if I think about them at all, but I do. And I miss them dearly.

Lizzi's Version
I sort of wish we'd had more time to spend in every place that we visited. Time and time again, we said that if we'd had six months to do the trip instead of four, we wouldn't have changed our itinerary at all. We would have just spent longer in each place. It certainly would have cost about the same, since the biggest expense is definitely the plane tickets.

But when I think about this question now that we're home, I think about it in terms of the places I'd return to if someone were going to give me a free ticket. Probably first on my list would be (not surprisingly) Nepal. The people and the culture there were amazing, and there's so much of the country that we didn't even catch a glimpse of. And of course, there are lose little ones at the orphanage pulling me back. But even beyond that, there was something about that country that really just felt right to me. The pace of life is slower, by and large, than the pace we left behind in northern India, and life is simply saturated with the color, smell, and sound of Himalayan culture. It's really just an incredible place to see.

Other than Nepal, I find myself often wistfully thinking of Bangkok any time I'm in a city, which is fairly often. I just loved the hustle and the bustle of that city and the general hum of life there. I loved the mix of old and new and the fascinating place that is Thailand. If I could work in Bangkok and live in Pepsicola, vacationing occasionally in Koh Lanta and Siem Reap, I'd be a happy, happy girl.

Of course, there are days when I think that I could spend a lifetime in Munnar, that I fantasize about someday being sent on a business trip to Saigon, and I wonder what the people in the Hmong village in Lao are up to. I also think that if we'd had more time in some of the places that we didn't like as much (Hanoi for me, Delhi for Matt), we would have ended up liking them a lot more. I think that it's no coincidence that part of the reason I wish we had more time in Nepal was because it was the place we spent the longest amount of time. We actually had a brief chance to get a flavor for the place, long enough (for me at least) to want to stay.

My desire to see more of the world is curbed only by the fact that the teeny tiny portion of the world that I saw only made me wish that I could spend my days as an independently wealthy traveler, staying in one place as long as I desired. The backpacker lifestyle does get exhausting and I wonder if, had we been traveling for, say, a year, we would have eventually come to place where we thought, "good enough, let's hang out here for a while." As it is, we never really got to that point (or we did, and it coincided nicely with staying in Nepal for two weeks). The bottom line, of course, is that if the Internet wanted to send me to any one of the places we visited, I wouldn't turn down the opportunity. So, um, if any one of you really REALLY wants me to go back and love on Vietnam, all you have to do is show me the plane ticket and I'll be there in a heartbeat!

Aboard the Animal Train

We sit around the table, talking at the same time, each person's voice answering someone else's question, commenting on another's thought. It is a conversation punctuated by laughter, by loud, raucous guffaws, by bursts of bright and glorious hysteria, and I look across the table to see Matt laughing so hard that his eyes scrunch into tiny little slits with wrinkles at the side as he nods his head up and down, up and down, chortling into the hand clenched into a fist at his mouth, which is wide and grinning. Cris has to excuse herself to pee, because when you laugh so hard that you have to pee, and you've already had to pee for about 20 minutes, you know that if you sit at a table for another moment, you will surely wet yourself.
**
We wake up bright and early to the sound of the baby's cries. We're not used to it, those of us who are not yet parents, and particularly those of us who prefer to use our weekends catching up on sleep. But when I stumble into the living room, my hair a wild mess, and see the little one on the floor, toys already in her mouth, I feel my un-caffeinated self softening a little, waking up by the sheer energy of the amazing little person I'm seeing first thing in the morning. "Don't worry," her father assures her, "Lizzi doesn't talk first thing in the morning. She'll be nice again in a minute." After I brush my teeth and wash my face, I come out of the bathroom and the little one smiles up at me again, hopeful that I will smile back. And I do. And then she lunges for Julie, giggling as she grabs fistfuls of her hair and pulling her towards her so that she can gum on her face with her two shiny new teeth.
***
I'm in the kitchen now, cooking pasta, chopping vegetables, marinating meat that will later spend some time and then, whoops, it's not done yet!, more time on the grill. "What are we doing in here, hmmm?," Adam moos at me. "London broil. Orzo Salad. Green Beans and Tomatoes," I respond. "Me likes," Adam assures me. I smile as I turn towards my artichoke hearts, waiting to be cut into bite-sized pieces and tossed with parsley and kalamata olives. "Grab me one," Katy calls out to Geoff and he responds in kind, equal parts affectionate and gross, grabbing a beer out of the cooler for himself and Katy. They sit around the table, feeding the baby, keeping the beer bottles out of her reach, talking about talking about talking, and I cook.
****
We wander into a restaurant in Provincetown, ready to stretch our legs after the hours and hours of traffic heading east. But none of us want to be there, none of us are interested in the overpriced menu, or the food that doesn't sound appealing. So we leave, packaging up the baby and grabbing our bags, and head out to the street, where some of us search for good pizza, others of us eating fried seafood and sandwiches. Adam, who snacked too much on the way down, is hungry for none of it. We are not surprised, we probably all have the same thought that's running through my own head: "that's Adam!" We wander around the town, smiling in the direction of Ellie and the overly tanned and muscled men, thinking that we're all tired and zonked, wondering how J and Cris do it day after day with the little one. We find ourselves in a cool little store and J is impulsive and it makes us all feel a little bit giddy for him and for Cris. They are exceptionally nice watches.
*****
We have been around the world, I think to myself as I watch Matt sleeping. We have been to corners of the earth that we will never see again. "A lot has changed in a year," Matt remarks. And he is right. A lot HAS changed in a year. But here we are, back again, back with each other, back where I cook and Geoff is ridiculous, where Adam eats snacks and Katy talks about artsy things we don't understand. Back where we would give anything, anything at all to know what Julie has to say about us, where J and Cris have done the most amazing thing imaginable and brought this new little creature into our circle, into our lives. We are back in the best part of our world, the part where our family knows us, wants nothing more than to be with us and make fun of us, where we always know we have a place to call home.

Nepali Horticulture

Ok, so this stuff really was everywhere in Kathmandu Valley, growing alongside the road, between buildings, everywhere. Even though it's not my cup of tea, it was funny to watch the guys try to replant this stuff everywhere they could. Nevertheless, the farmers in the village saw these plants as nothing but a nuisance. They would pull them up by the roots and throw them on the nearest open garbage fire. Huh.

Remember When We Ate Pudding for Dinner?

Posted from Hong Kong, China

When I first met Alan almost 8 years ago, we had an awkward lunch with another lieutenant at the Chinese restaurant which would come to be known as "Chickenbutt North" a few years later. Later that day, he showed up at the house I was staying at and crashed on the couch for 10 days. Then he was put up in the room next to me in Biloxi. And for the next few years, not counting deployments and visits from girlfriends, we were nearly inseparable.

Since those early days, it's been a few years and a few thousand miles. Alan lives in Germany, and I keep moving from state to state, as if I'd never left the Air Force. We stay in touch, but not nearly as much as we should. But then again, as soon as we reconnect, it's like no time has passed at all.

The other night Lizzi and I were watching an episode of Friends, one in which Monica and Chandler are still keeping their relationship a secret. Monica comes over to Chandler and Joey's apartment in the middle of the night for a bit of nooky. Of course, Joey wakes up and interrupts them. They play it off by telling him that it's actually 9AM instead of 3AM. And Joey heads off to the bathroom to wash up, where he promptly falls asleep with a toothbrush in his mouth.

I'm not saying that Alan and I have shared any moments similar to this one, but when I saw it, I immediately thought of him. Because Alan is the Joey to my Chandler, the Watson to my Holmes, the Barney to my Fred. He's a wonderful guy with a huge heart. So on his 30th birthday I wanted him to know that I was thinking of him in Nepal. And even though we are continents apart and I won't see him again until this winter, I couldn't be happier that we pushed through that awkward lunch and the 10 cramped days at Packler's house. I am honored to count him among my best friends.

Alan, Happy 30th Birthday!!

A Katybeck Birthday, A Few Days Late

Written and Posted in Hong Kong

I met Katy when she was an 18-year-old freshman in college. She lived in E Tower in Morewood Gardens and I was an RA just a few floors up from her floor. To say that I met her that year is sort of not true, because I didn't meet her so much as I heard about her. She was a co-RA's favorite resident, and she became a sort of model-resident in our weekly RA meetings. Whenever anyone would do something really stupid, like that time my resident accidentally lit a cardboard box on fire in her room, one of us would turn to the other and say, "Katy wouldn't do that." She wouldn't.

The first thing I noticed about Katy when I DID actually meet her the following year was that she had the shiniest, straightest, brownest hair of anyone I'd ever met. I also noticed that her eyes got really wide just before she was about to burst out laughing, and that there was a piece of construction paper tacked to the wall near her desk with what seemed like hundreds of fortune-cookie fortunes tacked to it, the words "IN BED!" scrawled on the construction paper.

For many years, Katy remained something of an enigma to me. She's not the easiest person for me to read because we're different in so many ways. But there are times when Katy has balanced me out, been different than me in the way that I need a good friend to be different than me. And she has always, always, always loved Matt, and the quiet and calm part of her that completely and totally understands him is the quiet and calm part of her that I get, that isn't even a little bit enigmatic to me.

In the past two years, Katy did something that very few people do: she followed a dream and went back to school. She gave up a big apartment, a good-paying job she didn't really enjoy, and a city she'd called home for five years, and moved to Rhode Island to go to art school. If you don't think this is brave, then you should see the pictures of her studio, because she practically lives there. I've known Katy for about 10 years now, and I'd venture to guess that on an average day, she doesn't see herself as an inspiration to others. But for her 29th birthday, I'd like her to know that I think she's braver than she gives herself credit for, that I think she is an incredibly talented artist, and that I'm okay with not always being able to read her because I feel really lucky to have her in my life.

Words to Live By

Written and Posted from India

Moments before I walked down the aisle on my wedding day, fear gripped my heart and Maura, my beautiful Maura, gripped my wrist. Smiling into my face, her red-blonde curls making her look angelic, as always, she whispered something to me, earnestly. And then before I could even think, before I knew what was happening, the doors opened, my nearest and dearest sat, turned in their seats, staring at me. Halfway down that aisle, arm-in-arm with my dad, I realized what Maura had said to me. "Live the day!" she said. Live the day. And in that moment, at that very moment, I knew exactly what she meant. I knew that this day was only going to come once, and that unless I lived every single moment of it, I would let it slip through my fingers virtually unnoticed. At that moment of clear and uninterupted understanding, I cried and I grinned and I thought wonderful things about all of the people in that room who were watching me watch Matt. Those first moments of walking down the aisle are blurry, unclear, but from that one moment on, the rest of the day is like looking into a movie of my life, and if it had a color, it would be clear, clear beautiful crystal blue.

I am not the type of person who remembers what people say to me. Which is to say that I remember stories, I remember backgrounds and cousins and ex-boyfriends and piles of details about people's lives. I can't forget the stories and the details, even when I wish I could. But I rarely remember those precious pearls of wisdom that people have handed out to me over the years. It's frustrating that I don't remember them, especially because I'm certain that with the pearls I could have collected from my mother and grandmother alone, I would have quite a gorgeous strand by now. Instead, I am generally left with fragments, shards of wisdom, and whatever it is that I feel in my bones just by being who I am, genetically. Most of the time, my genetic wisdom serves me well. But every so often, someone whispers words to me, and they plant themselves in my brain in a way that's utterly different than what's in my DNA. Maura's words became a mantra for me. It is something I say to every bride before she walks down the aisle, particularly if I am lucky enough to be standing with her in those precious moments before a marriage is revealed. It is something I say to myself when I am practicing meditation or yoga. And sometimes it is something I say to myself when I need to pull myself back, reign myself in, when I need to be reminded to actually EXPERIENCE what it is that I'm experiencing. These are strong and precious words, which makes sense, because Maura is a strong and precious person.

Just a day before we left on our trip, I talked to Heather for the first time in months and months and months. Matt and I had a million errands to run that day, all of which we were running with my dad, and in his excitement and urgency to help us, he was impatient with the time I was spending on the phone. "This conversation is important," I told him, and "I wouldn't be talking on the phone right now if I didn't need to be talking on the phone right now." But in the end, his restlessness was contageous, and I told Heather that I needed to go and get on with that last day. "Remember the colors," she said as we were hanging up, "SEE all the colors." I promised her I would, and rushed off to buy those ever-important last minute items without which we surely wouldn't have been allowed on the plane.

And here I am now, with just 18 days left in this trip, and I feel saturated with color, full to the brim with colors I didn't know existed. Especially in the bizarre places where some of the colors exist, places like doorways, back alleys, cars, and dump trucks. There are the usual colors to be seen on clothes and jewelry and fruit. But it's the shock of the color, the color that catches me by surprise, that is the color I rush to soak in, to take in, to really SEE, just like Heather urged me to do. I think that she would be proud of me, that her inner artist is beaming with pride at her student, working so diligently to SEE everything that there is to see.

I am writing this post today because Maura has an upcoming birthday and because sometimes, on your birthday, it's nice to know that others take your words to heart so well that the words live inside their heart, just like you do. Before Maura whispered those words to me, I would have said that I do, actually, think of myself as a live-er of life, that I really DO live the day. But now I know that I wasn't quite right, that it was Maura who opened my eyes to HOW to live a day, an day, even a most extraordinary day. So on her birthday, I wanted her to know that because of her words, I was able to live Heather's words, and because of both of them, I get to experience India in particular but this whole trip in general, as though I just, for the first time, opened my eyes to the world, and my, what a lovely hue it has.

This Time Last Year

Written in Kerala, India
Posted from Delhi, India

Geoff, Julie, Katy, Matt and I sit in a bar and order a drink called "Scooby Snacks." It's bright green and has milk in it, and I think it's delicious but it makes Julie kind of dry heave. We're all exhausted, it being 6am on the east coast, but we're happy to be together and we're yammering on about I don't even know what. Katy is wearing these really cute red shoes and her hair is very very long. Geoff's phone rings, "it's Jason!" and we learn that the birthday boy, the reason we were all in Vegas and drinking at 6am east coast time, is at the airport, is at that very moment being told to hang up his phone so he can go through security and get on a plane.

It is one year later. Katy's hair is short again, instead of being together we're scattered to the four corners of the earth, Adam has a new dog, J and Cris have a new baby. But today is still Jason's birthday! Some good things have a way of coming back, year after year. And thank god for that, because Jason is a person to celebrate.

Many of you out there reading this blog know Jason. Rather, you think you know him. But to know the real J is to know that there are, believe it or not, a few people in the world that Jason actively dislikes. And to know the real J is to have many an incriminating photograph of him on your hard drive, just waiting for the day when you need to blackmail him. Except, of course, to know the real J is to also know that you'll never need to blackmail him, because he is the kind of friend who eats all of your food and actually wants to know how you made it, the kind of friend who asks you questions about your law degree when no one else even pretends to be curious, the kind of friend who picks you up at the airport when you could have taken the T, the kind of friend who comes to school with you for a day and gets along so well with everyone he meets that you wish you could have gone to grad school with him and not just college.

Jason was one of the first people I actually trusted at Carnegie Mellon, all those long years ago when I was still trying to decide whether I loved or hated the place. Jason is one of the reasons that I stayed. And I'm so glad that I did, not only because of all of the things that might not have happened if I'd left CMU, but also because of the fact that over the course of all of these long years, J and I have grown up, just a little bit more, together.

So J, on your birthday, I'm sorry that we're all scattered to the four corners, but I can honestly tell you that I can't wait to see what your 40th brings, even if it's still another 9 years away.

<<The authors are sad to report that they didn't get this post up on or before Jason's actual birthday. But they are happy to be the first to share that in his honor, they found a Pizza Hut right in the middle of Cochin (where you can get pizza topped with such items as chicken tikka or paneer). We know that Jason is smiling somewhere, knowing that on his birthday, even though there was nary a sausage in sight, we ate some greasy pizza.>>

Another Pisces Heard From

Today is Julie's 29th birthday. Hi Jules! Happy Birthday! I'm sad that we can't be there to celebrate with you. But we're eating all of your favorite foods over here, I promise. If I could get my hands on a bowl of cheerios to eat in your honor, I SO would.

Julie's birthday post is and isn't the hardest birthday post to write. See, it's hard to cram into a few paragraphs just exactly why I'm so glad that this woman was born. But at the same time, I could regale you with countless instances of times when my life would have just sucked a lot more without her in it. There's a balance to be struck here, people, and I'm the girl to do it. Even if that means I will be verbose. Oh, don't act so surprised. When am I NOT verbose?

A long, long time ago, back when Julie and I were newly becoming friends, I found out that this guy I'd liked for a long time liked me back (incidentally NOT the guy I married), and that he liked me so much that he wanted to make out with me in my dorm room, which we quickly got down to doing. I hadn't told anyone about it because the relationship was the kind that was (a) doomed from the start, and (b) not even off the ground yet, but I'd casually mentioned it to Julie because she was a new friend, and therefore a safe person with whom to share this most important piece of information. That, and I was so happy about it that I wanted to rent an airplane and fly a banner from the sky, so I HAD to tell SOMEONE.

I was home from school on Christmas break, and I was sitting at our wee little Macintosh computer, trying to interest myself in something other than starting yet another fight with my dad (I was 19, remember?). When all of a sudden, bling! went my Inbox (remember those old AOL noises?) and there was a message from Julie. We were friends, sure, and I had told her about my little hook-up, but up until that moment, I hadn't realized we were EMAIL friends, the kind of friends who emailed each other in that 4 weeks we weren't at school. But, as it happened, we were. So I opened up my email from her and right there, in the very first line, was a statement that went something like this: "You sound so excited! I'm so HAPPY for you!" And that was it. I mean, there was more to the email -- I'm sure she talked about the state of her life (which, at that time, was unreasonably hard and incredibly unfair, and I mean that) -- but it was those two little opening lines that opened the window onto what I knew was going to be a huge, groundbreaking, life-altering friendship. See, in that briefest little moment, sent across wires and cables and all the way from the midwest, I got a glimpse of the person that Julie is. And she's the type of person who, when her life is really especially shitty, still manages to get excited about another person's excitement. Especially if that person is me. Which basically makes me the luckiest woman ever.

See, a long, long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away, our friendship existed in a different space and time. We were sisters, friends, fellow-gatherers, whatever. But there's not a doubt in my mind that over history and through the ages, Julie and I have seen a LOT. And importantly, we've seen that lot together, and together we've made things easier for each other, gentler, better. Most people don't understand our friendship. And that's mainly because most people don't have a friend like the one that we have in each other. But for those out there who do understand our friendship, especially for those women out there who helped to show me how to be especially grateful for what I have in Julie, you know that being several continents and oceans away on her birthday is kind of sad, the kind of thing that makes you homesick and longing for that time when you'd share a pint of Phishfood Frozen Yogurt together on your couch. On the other hand, you also know that with a friendship like ours, oceans and continents really don't get in the way of sending her heartfelt birthday wishes, full of things like good karma and certainty of all the happy things that will come her way this year, and that when she wakes up on the morning of her birthday, I'll know it all the way over here, and I'll silently send a little prayer in the direction of her parents, for having the good sense to bring her into this world and into my life.

Happy Birthday, Julabelle. My life wouldn't be as good as it is if you weren't a part of it.

Pisces in the Hizzouse!

Written and Posted from Kerala, India

We know a lot of people with birthdays who are of this particular aquatic zodiac sign. Seriously. Out of our 5 friends, about 4 of them have birthdays coming up. Since I know that the birthday posts are probably only interesting for the people who are having the birthday, or the people who know the person having the birthday, I'm going to spread them out over the course of the lunar month. And to start things off, I'd like to say a transatlantic happy birthday to Becca. Happy Birthday, Becs!

Becca and I met, oh, 15 years ago. Which isn't true. See, we met 16 years ago when we were both freshman at Central High School (255!) but we didn't become friends until we we re-met sophomore year. In advisory. Which the rest of the world knows as "homeroom." That was way back when my last name started with an "M" and Becca's started with an "N." Which none of you care about, so I'll move on. And also, that might be a lie because I can't really remember whether we had advisory together sophomore year or not until junior year, in which case we re-met sophomore year in a class we had together. ANYWAY. When Becca and I re-met our sophomore year, it was as though we were friends instantaneously. Like we were the friend that the other was waiting around to meet, the real purpose of going to high school in the first place.

When I look back on that time in my life, specifically sophomore year of high school, I think that Becca was the one bright spot of the whole mess of that year. And the biggest bright spot of all of high school, actually. She was the friend who was there for me, day in and day out, when I most needed someone to be there for me day in and day out. You cannot thank a person for that kind of love, dedication, and loyalty. There are no words.

I can still conjure the feel of Becca's kitchen table under my fingers, as we sat at it, hour after hour, lighting candle after candle and talking, picking off the pools of molten wax with our fingernails. I can still remember when she got her new stereo, and how she introduced me to REM and the Indigo Girls in the same year. I know exactly how her face lit up when I gave her a tent and how we set it up in her bedroom and she hugged and kissed it. I still can't walk into a Roy Rogers without thinking of the one not far from her house, where we'd go and order water and steal pickles from the fixin's bar. Same with IHOP. Except without the fixin's bar and with the coffee and those wee little creamers instead. I could keep going and going with this list, but then you'd all know, for real this time, what a huge DORK I was in high school, so I'll stop. Suffice it to say that most of my best memories from my teenage years were spent in Becca's company, and I'm so excited that we'll finally be living in the same city again, because even though she's just about the most brilliant doctor I know, and even though that means she's working 110% of the time, I feel really grateful for the chance to make more best memories with her in her 29th year. So Becs, I hope you have a happy, happy birthday and we'll see you in a few months!

Odds and Ends from India

Written and Posted from Goa, India

Now where were we? That's right, we were in Sri Lanka. Except that was yesterday. Today, today we are in India. Another day, another country! Oh, but we'll be in India for almost the next six weeks, so no new countries until then. You'll have to bear with us while we explore this place in the meantime.

Some words on our first day in Goa: the day started off bright and early because we had to wake up at 2:30am in order to catch our flight. We made it to the airport with plenty of time to walk around duty free and buy some Arrack, which is a seriously strong coconut whisky. So strong, in fact, that the people at the Icebear Hotel put it in a drink they call the "Lady Wong." It's aptly named. Then we boarded our flight, settled into our seats and a breakfast of curry and rotti. And I cannot even BEGIN to express my delight over the creamer-container filled with pickle! Pickle! I took a picture of it because it delighted me so much. It will be forthcoming.

After we landed in Goa, we floundered around for a little while trying to figure out where to stay. We ended up south of the airport, south of Old Goa, in a beach town called Colva (which, for those of you with a passion for Lafayette Hill, PA, reminded my so fondly of Kolvas that just writing the word Colva makes me want soft-serve ice cream in a cone with sprinkles). We woke up from a well-deserved nap in time to make it to the beach for a few hours before sunset. Here is a list of things I didn't expect to see but did: women and men playing in the ocean, fully clothed; cows hanging out on the beach; teenagers playing cricket; and saris, oh the saris. Our plan is to spend the next 4 days here, re-grouping after the past 52 days of traveling, energizing ourselves for the next 56 days ahead. Judging by the food and the atmosphere, I think we picked a good spot.

And now for those closing thoughts on Sri Lanka that I'm sure you've all be waiting for. The only problem with Sri Lanka is that we didn't give ourselves enough time there. For a small island, there is Just.So.Much. to see there. I can't even really do a description of it any justice, because it's really hard to explain the affection that I developed for the country. Every single person that we met was nice. At the hotel we stayed in while we were in Kandy (the Kandy View Hotel for those of you who are interested -- stay there!), the owner went out of his way to DRIVE us around the town, showing us the sites. When we didn't have time to make it to an ATM before our massages, he fronted us the money and put the massages on our hotel bill. It was just so unbelievably above and beyond general hospitality, that I found myself full of affection for the whole country.

I mentioned the Sri Lankan conflict in an earlier post. I don't understand the conflict myself, so to try to explain it to you would just make me sound stupid. Every time we ask someone about it, they go all the way back to Alexander the Great, and if that doesn't give you any indication of how little I know about it, suffice it to say that I can't even remember when Alexander WAS Great. But the interesting thing about the conflict is that I really just didn't feel its presence while I was there. Sure, we avoided taking public transportation. And there was that one time when we were surrounded by busses and all felt a bit nervous. But by and large, the conflict felt far away, almost in another, less-peaceful island. The island that I was on was just beautiful -- beautiful people, beautiful food, beautiful history and religion, beautiful land. Really, I would have stayed another week if we didn't already have these tickets to Goa.

There were a few other things other than the fact of Sri Lanka that made Sri Lanka so wonderful for us. The first was that we got to have a lovely meal with a lovely family. The family is our friend Upeka's family (hi Bert!), and they invited us to share a meal with them. We drove from Negombo to Colombo to meet up with them for lunch and just had a really nice afternoon. It was so good, especially for Matt and I, to be in the company of another person's family. It made us feel cared for and well-fed! We can't thank Upeka and her family enough for being so kind and gracious.



The other thing that made Sri Lanka so incredible was the fact that we got to share it with Chris and Amanda. Though it had been a few years since we saw them last, the four of us picked right back up where we'd left off, as though time and distance meant nothing. In between the last time we saw them and now, Chris and Amanda had a beautiful little girl, and one of the highlights of spending time with them was getting to learn all about her. I don't know if everyone has a couple like this in their lives, but Chris and Amanda are the couple that we've always looked up to. They're like our older-sib couple. They do big life things before we do them, and they do those things so well that they make us want to work harder at what we have, because they make it look so great and so effortless. In short, they inspire and energize us. So seeing them in this amazing country was inspiring and energizing. We certainly wouldn't have had the same experiences if we'd gone to Sri Lanka without them, and we DEFINITELY wouldn't have navigated the ass-roads without them. In short, they really just made our week there, and we're going to miss them. For all you Tinker folks who read this blog: seriously, LET'S HAVE A REUNION! LOOK how much fun we have when we're together:


(That's an old picture, but it really does show how much fun we have when we're together. I mean, aren't we hilarious?)

Wow. I've rambled on a long time. If you're still reading this, you're probably ready for me to stop typing and get on with my trip to India. Well, so am I! We're safe and sound in this new and interesting place, and there are colors and experiences out there to soak up. Off we go.

Sorry, No Happy Endings Here

Posted from Colva Beach, Goa, India

After Lizzi's post about the girls' experience with the Ayurvedic massage, I think it's only fair that I present the guys' story. Much of it is the same. Chris and I walked into a room with two tables, two chairs, and two, strapping, young Sri Lankan men ready to oil us down. Having enjoyed massages in Thailand and Laos where you are required to keep your clothes on, I was a little surprised when our masseurs (the correct term for a male masseuse) told us to drop trou. But having spent several years in the military, we knew better than to ask questions. We kept our boxers on, because let's face it, Chris and I are close, but not quite that close, and at this point, maintaining at least a shred of dignity felt like a major victory. They directed us to the chairs, and we sat down. And the dude poured oil on my head.

At that point I closed my eyes, hummed silently to myself, and desperately searched for my happy place. The rest of the massage proceeded without incident. Of course, until Chris's masseur told him, "Now, up, and look up." So Chris did as he was told. He stood up and stared at the ceiling, thinking it was all part of the massage experience. His masseur politely corrected him that "up" meant "stand up and lie down on the table next to you", and "look up" meant "lay on your back". Frankly, I could see how Chris was confused.

Nearly an hour later the massage ended. Chris stood, wobbly-legged, and went to the shower. I followed a few minutes later. Unlike the girls, there was no awkward moment of having to shoo our masseurs out of the shower. Moreover, there were no happy endings (sorry, Go and Andy). We each took a shower, got dressed, and waited for the girls in the lobby.

Clearly, our story is less harrowing and has a paucity of "what do you do with your bits?" moments, but for the sake of completeness, I thought it would be nice to share.

Feels Like Home to Me

Posted from Bangkok, Thailand

Our time in Siem Reap under the skyscraping and collapsing towers of ancient Angkor Wat is over. We sadly boarded a plane earlier this evening, and an hour later, here we are -- back in Bangkok. We loved Siem Reap, and there are plenty of stories and a cubic butt-ton (that's English not metric) of pictures. I promise we'll get them up as soon as we can, but for right now, we're just so happy to be back in Bangkok.

In fact, we're excited to be in Bangkok for two reasons. First, something about Bangkok feels comfortable, like we're coming home in a way. We know what to expect, how to get around, and where to get decent meat on a stick. So that's really comforting, something we've really been looking forward to. Second, (drum roll, please) Chris and Amanda are flying in tomorrow to meet up with us. We didn't want to say anything before that might jinx it, but in a few short hours they will be on a plane to Bangkok. The four of us will be in Bangkok for a few days and then we'll head to Sri Lanka together. We can't wait! We are so excited to see Chris and Amanda. For those who don't know them, we met Chris and Amanda while I was stationed in Oklahoma. Chris and I were even deployed overseas together, and we've managed to stay in touch ever since. We haven't seen them in years AND they will be the first familiar faces we'll have seen in over a month. Anyway, we can't wait!

On a separate note, one of more ecological importance, Lizzi mentioned to me on the flight that this was our eighth flight in 6 weeks. For those math geeks out there, that's more than one per week. Yes, we are single-handedly contributing to global warming. In fact, I think the hole in the ozone layer just got a little bigger. Please send our apologies to Mr. Gore, but we are having the times of our lives.

It's a Small World After All

Posted from Siem Reap, Cambodia

Wow! I can't believe all of the comments and emails. I'm completely overwhelmed. In a good way. Thank you to everyone who emailed, commented on the blog, wrote on my wall, or called. It really made having my birthday on the other side of the world feel a lot closer to home.

I also have to thank Lizzi. She came clean to me yesterday, telling me that she's rallied the troops to help me celebrate my birthday, and I couldn't be more grateful. She has always been amazing in making my birthday mean so much more than I think it is. It is one of the reasons I love her as much as I do. I love you, sweets!

Here's how I celebrated my 30th birthday. First, we slept in late and ate a huge breakfast, complete with pancakes, bacon, and cold cereal with milk. Milk! I haven't had actual milk in over a month. It's just not something that's easy to come by here. Then, we hopped in a car and visited the temples of Angkor Wat. Unbelievable! We walked on temples that are over 1,000 years old. In fact, one of the temples was abandoned 60 years before Columbus stumbled upon America! There are pictures, I promise. After touring the temples, we came back to the hotel and went swimming, stopping for a drink or two at the swim-up bar. Swimming. In January! I've never gone swimming on my birthday before. Growing up, I was always a little jealous of the summer birthday kids and their pool parties, but no longer. Because I went swimming on my birthday. Did I mention that I went swimming in January?!

We ended the evening with dinner. Lizzi had planned on us going out for fancy meal on the town -- Western or Khmer, whatever I wanted. But it didn't quite turn out that way. By the time we'd finished swimming and rinsed the chlorine off, the hotel's restaurant was closed and the hotel shuttle was no longer running to town. So we ordered room service. I ordered a big burger, my first one of the trip, which is quite a testament to will power and restraint on my part, as well as a glass of Johnnie Walker Blue Label, my first taste of the coveted Blue Label ever. And it was spectacular! I've got to say that traveling in southeast Asia definitely has the perk of cheap top-shelf liquor.

All in all, this was one of the best birthdays I've ever had. Again, thanks to everyone, and especially thanks to Lizzi.

Some Helpful Phrases

Written on the bus from Hue to Hoi An, Vietnam
Posted from Phnom Penh, Cambodia

When you're traveling the way we're traveling, you occasionally have the good fortune of meeting other people who are traveling the way you're traveling. If you're lucky, these people are funny and interesting, and they are happy to engage you in hours of meaningless conversation. If you're SUPER lucky, they're not from America, and they have idioms and mannerisms that you've never heard before, but you find endlessly amusing. And if you're luckier still, they don't mind it, even a little bit, when you ask them to repeat these idioms so that you can write them on your blog. Here are some of our favorites, for those of you following along, who want some backpacker flavor.

Courtesy of Anna and Caleb, of New Zealand:Feral -- used to describe something TRULY disgusting. Example: "Eating a fried cat is feral!" When pronouncing the word, be sure to draw out the "e" so that it sounds like "feee-ral." Be emphatic.

Shit as -- used to describe how you're doing, when things are kind of crappy. Example: "I'm shit as, that's how I am. We just spent the last hour trying to confirm our flight and no one would help us." When pronouncing this phrase, the "as" part is sort of dropped off at the end. So it sounds a lot more like "shit-aaaahhhs."

Courtesy of Tom and Lizzy, of the UK:Posh -- now of course, I've heard this word before. Who DOESN'T remember Posh Spice? But there's something about the way Brits say the word that makes you want to curl up inside of it. It's used to describe something nice, fancy, or high-end. Example: "This restaurant is really quite posh. I hope we can afford it." Matt and I have taken to dropping the word into conversation whenever we can. Which, given our budget, is not often.

Courtesy of Tom and Jan, of the UK:This one is less of a phrase and more of a story, and if any of you have been to London, you will, no doubt appreciate it. Tom was talking about the night bus in London, and all of the insanity that goes along with it. Neither Matt nor I have really spent any time in London, so we turned to Tom and told him that every time he said night bus, we thought "KNIGHT Bus" of Harry Potter and Stan Shunkpike fame. "It's exactly like the Knight Bus!" Tom cried. "Except that everyone's drunk and no one can do any magic." And something about that sent Matt and I overboard. Everyone's drunk and no one can do magic! Brilliant!

Also courtesy of Tom, a phrase just for Geoff, "the wank bank." This one needs no explanation if you're Geoff, and if you're not Geoff, and you're curious, you're just going to have to email me to find out what it is. Because it's not appropriate to write about on a blog, especially when its speaker was a pretty high-powered attorney.

As we still have another 2 months of our journey left, I'm hoping to add additional phrases in, here and there. So far, these are our very favorite. For the few days after we left the company of Anna, Caleb, Tom, Lizzy, Tom, and Jan, Matt and I talked as though we were immitating someone who was British. Trust me, it was even annoying to us. But until we get it out of our system, we'll be the Americans in Hoi An, trying to find a posh restaurant that serves food that isn't even a little bit feral.

And Another One!

Written from Luang Prabang, Laos

Today is Steph's birthday. She's not turning 30 because she's a youngin', but that doesn't mean that she doesn't deserve her very own birthday post.

Matt and I met Steph a little over two years ago and from the moment she walked into our house, put oven mitts on her hands and gave us a puppet show, all without even a bit of reservation, we knew she'd be a part of our lives forever. She is the kind of friend whose loyalty knows no bounds, who would do anything for you, even if anything includes making fun of people who she doesn't really know, just to make you feel better.

We know that she's missing us a lot these days, and we're going on record to say that we miss her too. If we were in Maine with her, we'd be freezing our butts off and eating sushi, and we'd probably make her get drunk on something a little too sweet and then go ahead and order another bottle of wine, because that's one of the things we do best. We'd probably also have a loud conversation in a restaurant about something you're only supposed to talk about in your living room, and we'd be laughing so hard we'd be crying. Is it any wonder that we can't wait to live closer to her next year, so that we can celebrate her birthday in the same city? Laughing so hard that you cry is the reason you have friends.

So today on her birthday we had massages and ate ice cream (sorry Steffers, it was the real deal, but if we'd been in the States we would have eaten tofuti for you) because that's exactly what she would have done if she'd been here (minus the real dairy).

Happy Birthday, Steph! We hope you have a wonderful year, filled with lovely and beautiful days, occasions to celebrate, and homecomings to look forward to.

A Couple of Sore Bums

Posted on our first night in Luang Prabang, Lao PDR

The idea seemed simple enough: take a bus to the river and catch a boat from Thailand to Laos. But it's sooo much more than that. Getting from Chiang Mai to Luang Prabang underscored for us that getting from point A to point B is actually part of the adventure. First, we took a six-hour minibus ride from Chiang Mai to Chiang Khong, a sleepy town separated from Laos by the mighty Mekong River. The overnight accommodations in Chiang Khong left much to be desired. In fact, they were far worse than what we experienced in Bangkok, but at least it had a hot shower. From Chiang Khong, we crossed the river by long-tail boat and processed through immigration. As unceremoniously as that, we entered Laos. Then we waited. And waited. And waited until our ferry boat finally pulled out of the dock. The long-distance ferry, which would carry us to Luang Prabang, was crowded, noisy, and slow. Slow. This word has a new definition for me, as does the phrase "a slow boat to China" because we took a slow boat down the Mekong River. So slow. After seven hours, we reached the midway point, Pak Beng, where we stopped for the night.

Pak Beng is an interesting town, because it only has electricity from 6PM to 10PM each night. That's appropriate, because the ferry pulls in around 6:30PM, and the locals have to get up early. So there's no nightlife. In fact, the bar we stopped at shooed us out the door at 10:30. However, the lack of street lights, TVs, and lamps meant that the night sky and its stars shone brilliantly. I haven't seen stars like that in years.

The next morning, this morning in fact, we woke up and hopped back on the boat for another bum-numbing 7 hours. We arrived in Luang Prabang around 5:30PM, got settled in a guesthouse, and here we are. Our butts are sore, but we're ready to explore Laos for the next few days before we head off to Vietnam. Luckily, there are no long boat rides anywhere in our near future.

Traveling slowly offers an opportunity that hopping on an airplane for an hour just can't; you get to meet other travelers. On our first day in the minibus, we ended up meeting not one, but four people, two couples who were making their way through Southeast Asia. Both couples are about our age; one couple (Lizzy and Tom) are from England, and the other (Anna and Caleb) from New Zealand. We hit it off right away and stuck together through the crappy accommodations at Chiang Khong and the butt-numbing boat ride to Pak Beng. In Pak Beng, we banded together to bargain a better rate at a guesthouse and closed down the bar that night. This morning we found seats together on the boat and kept the conversation going. We couldn't have dreamed of meeting better people along the way. Good luck to you, Anna and Caleb, Lizzy and Tom in the rest of your travels and in finding your ways home!

Another Auspicious Birthday

Today is our very good friend Geoff's 30th birthday. (Are we sensing the theme that this is the year everyone turns 30? Because it's there. The theme, I mean. Everyone is turning 30!) Many of you don't know Geoff, but to know him, REALLY know him, is to love him.

I met Geoff as a freshman at Carnegie Mellon. We were both in the dorkiest history class, and we both had an unabashed love for our professor. We took a couple of other classes together at CMU, and every single time we confessed the exact same things about the class: we're SUCH dorks and we LOVE our professors! Over time, I came to know Geoff as one of the smartest people I've ever met. He might deny it, and my other friends always wonder why I picked Geoff as the smartest, but it's true people, it's really true.

Underneath his veneer of dirty jokes and well-timed one-liners lies a heart of pure and solid gold. Though he is, at times, 30-going-on-18, at other times he is 30-going-on-ageless. He is the type of man you want your kids to hang out with. Not only because he will he adore them, but because he'll encourage them to do all of those things that kids need to be encouraged to do (from someone other than their parents).

We really wish that we could be in two places at once -- here in Thailand seeing all of this stuff, and in New York with Geoff celebrating his birthday. We know that Geoff was really excited for us to be on this trip, so we're going to stay here for the next couple of months. But when we get back, we're going to celebrate his birthday in style, because that's what you do for a guy like Mr. Go.

Happy Birthday, Geoffey! We wish you many years left with your hair, and a lifetime of wonderful things.

Love,
Lizzi and Matt

This One's For You, Charlie!

So this post has nothing to do with our upcoming trip. In fact, it’s about something much closer to home. Today, the world welcomes Charlotte! The first Scrappy to grace the Scooby Gang with her presence, the miniMart live and in person. We went out to celebrate her birth because we couldn’t be happier she’s here, or happier for her parents who brought her here, or happier for the whole wide world, because today it welcomed a lovely, beautiful, sure-to-be-amazing addition to its population.

We already love you Charlotte!

(And in case you’re curious, Lizzi and I are drinking Yuengling, because we figured that there’s a good chance she’s going to be wearing Tartan someday, and what better way to celebrate her future Alma Mater than with a pint of Pittsburgh’s finest?)

Update: After reading the comments on this post, we realized that there are a few inside jokes here that need to be explained. First, we call our best friends from college the Scooby Gang. Second, two of these wonderful friends just had a baby, which we called miniMart up until she received a proper name. Third, Tartan is Carnegie Mellon's color. And finally, Scrappy Doo was Scooby-Doo's pint-size cousin. I think that should clear everything up.