Monday, December 26, 2011

Christmas in a Northern Town (part two)

I love this holiday. I love when the fireplace is going, and the Christmas tunes are quietly playing in the background of dinner conversation. I love gathering the whole family together in one room and attempting to keep some sort of order to the chaos. I love waking up (no longer at 6 am… you’re welcome Mom & Dad) and shuffling into the living room, cup of steaming coffee in hand, to open gifts on Christmas morning. We really are lucky. I know people say this all the time… but seriously, what did I do to deserve this wonderful life?
This year proved to be no different. Christmas Eve at my uncle's house resulted in a night of family, wine, food, jokes… and did I mention wine? We started with an ’85 Georges de Latour private reserve and worked our way up through the vintages and regions. There was a Spanish Rioja (for Grace) as well as several others from France, Italy and of course a bottle from sunny California. We ended the night (and meal) with a dessert wine, Château d'Yquem, which was simply delightful. If you ever get a chance to try something like this… do it. These opportunities aren’t around often. Actually, that’s my advice for all wine. Whether you love it or not, if you have a chance to try a glass that doesn’t come out of a box… do it. (Not that I’m dissing the box-o-wine fad… my friends and I certainly embraced this during our college years.) This is a tradition with my dad’s side of the family… one that I look forward to every year. The company isn’t bad either. haha

A very merry Christmas indeed

Christmas day was just as jolly. We woke up on the later side this year (we meaning Grace and I) after staying up a bit too late watching “Horrible Bosses” (and of course trying to catch Santa in action). That movie is hilarious. Watch it. Thank me later. Anyways… after the Christmas morning gifting, my mom’s side of the family started to filter in and we resumed the eating, drinking and general merriment from the night before.
We make the kids' table great (missing Liz)


I hope everyone had a very happy holiday. Looking forward to 2012… Cheers for now.

Sunday, December 18, 2011

Welcome home...


Our world traveler is home! After a very stressful night in Zurich, Grace finally touched down in Boston town... and I've never been so glad to outstretch my arms at Logan Arrivals. My parents and I got to the airport several hours prior to this reunion (probably the only time we've been early to anything in our lives), so we had some time to kill in the interim. What do you do at the airport after a few mimosas? People watch, that’s what. The arrival gate is actually a pretty remarkable place to do this. Watching everyone come through the gate and hug/kiss their loved ones – well, it’s a lot like that movie, Love Actually

“Whenever I get gloomy with the state of the world, I think about the arrivals gate at Heathrow Airport [Or in this case, Logan International]. General opinions’ starting to make out that we live in a world of hatred and greed, but I don't see that. It seems to me that love is everywhere. Often, it's not particularly dignified or newsworthy, but it's always there - fathers and sons, mothers and daughters, husbands and wives, boyfriends, girlfriends, old friends... If you look for it, I've got a sneaking suspicion... love actually is all around.”


 
Of course, it’s got to be rough for those individuals that come through the gate after a long flight and see all the disappointed faces when the crowd realizes that they’re not their particular loved one. I gave out a few of those looks today too. Sorry about it. After all the hugs, kisses and no tears (stayed strong), it was definitely time for Grace to throw her oversized bags in the back of Dad’s car and head for home. 

I know how stressful that trip is, and I will always vividly remember my journey home from my semester in London. After grossly maxing out my credit card (in a country whose currency was worth double ours at the time), this girl did not have any more pounds to afford a taxi to Heathrow. Instead I opted to struggle through the underground system with two large bags in tow. It must have been a ridiculous sight to see because after several stumbles (one actual fall), numerous phones calls to my father asking for more time in London and some pretty serious melt downs, a complete stranger took pity and offered some help. The good news: He was also going to the airport to pick up his daughter. The best news: He was dressed as Santa Claus. I’m not kidding. I think my mouth dropped to the ground when this jolly fella (decked out in full Santa attire obviously) hoisted my bags off of the train and helped me walk them to the check in desk. Maybe this was a Christmas miracle? Sure felt like one. Seven hours later, I too walked through the arrival gate at Logan International and fell into my family’s wide open arms. I had never been so exhausted, grateful and nostalgic in my ENTIRE LIFE. 

sister

Hopefully, by now Grace is tucked up close to Tory and Ginger (our pups… ugh, heartbreakers) and sleeping away her jet lag. So happy she’s home. Can’t wait to do so many Christmas related things with her this weekend! Oh this really is the best time of the year…. 

Cheers!

Sunday, December 11, 2011

Christmas in a Northern Town (part one)


The holiday season is in full force here in Boston, despite the 65 degree weather we’ve been having in DECEMBER. Even Texas is seeing colder temps than us (oh, the irony). 

This year, my roommates and I decided to get a tree… which let me say right now, was possibly the best decision we’ve ever made. Not only does it jazz up our living room, but it smells amazing. Literally, I can’t get enough of it. I wish it was appropriate to have one in our house year round. Too ambitious? Maybe. 

We’ve also submerged ourselves in all things “Christmas”. Kicking the holiday cheer off with the Boston tree lighting last week… Which I was told was excellent, although my 5’2” frame posed quite the problem for seeing anything over the crowd of people on the Commons. This was followed a few days later by the “12 Bars of Christmas” pub crawl through Faneuil Hall. Naturally, we threw on the ugliest holiday sweaters that we could find and paired them with name tags that read “Santa Claus” in all the languages we could think of (not many)… as well as the names of the entire cast of Home Alone. Fun fact that we learned in this process: Tim Allen actually says “Topo Gigio” in the movie The Santa Claus, not “Popo”… we’ve been quoting that scene wrong for years. Who knew? Anyways, last year this pub crawl was deemed “the best day of Courtney’s life” (her words), and after this year’s extravaganza… I think we topped it. Starting at 1 pm at the Harp, and ending at Coogans 10 hours later, meant it was a day that we only wish we could remember. Jokes. I remember most of it. Although, there were a few hours in there that got a little foggy – and I think they involved nachos. Classic.

I never said we looked good...
  
This weekend was our holiday cocktail party – hosted by all our favorite boys down the street. They decorated their entire apartment (gag gifts under the Christmas tree and all) and threw on some great Christmas jams (mostly 90's hits), and we had a merry little time. What a great season so far... 

A picture in front of the tree

Merry Christmas
The best part is that’s just the beginning. Christmas is big in my family. Well, all holidays really, but Christmas especially because it’s the one time of year that everyone is home. My mom, the phenomenal chef that she is, will prepare more food than anyone could ever eat… and my dad will break out some pretty incredible (old) vino for us all to drink. Oh, that’s the other thing about this family… we like our wine. All holidays seem to be great excuses to crack open a few bottles that have been around longer than I have (Who am I kidding… we don’t need an excuse). I absolutely cannot wait to go home and enjoy this tradition – and Grace will be home from Spain! What could be better than that?


Cheers for now...

Saturday, December 10, 2011

You're gonna wish these days, hadn't gone by so fast...


Yesterday, we had our first “relocation” meeting. With everything that’s been going on lately (holidays… etc), I think it was also the first real thought that I’ve put into this move. Obviously, I know that in seven months I am leaving. As many times as I tell myself that “I’ve got time” and “July is so far away”… I am fully aware that July is in fact not all that far, and that if I’m not smart about this, June will be a month of tears when I realize that I’m not prepared at all. Which - let me forewarn you now - will probably be exactly how this goes down. I procrastinate on things that I’m terrified of… it’s a problem. 

I’ve built a life in Boston. I have this whole wonderful, crazy family up here – and not even just in the sense of my parents and my sister (who I cannot wait to see in ONE WEEK!) – but also this group of friends – all of whom are so tangled in my life that when the time comes that I have to actually board that plane for good, well… I don’t know what I’m going to do. Being an adult is hard. This just got real. 

"You're in the wedding!" - Meaghan

Hiking in Denver - visiting the little one

Last night of college - night on the hill

Before Nunan broke our hearts and moved to London...

Friday, December 2, 2011

Rewind


While this blog will more than likely twist in memories and stories from the last 20–something years of my life, the entire premise behind starting “Raw Bars to Rodeos” actually began several months ago. Therefore, it only makes sense that my very first post, on my very first blog, starts there. Here we goooo…

Towards the end of the summer, the company that I work for (which will remain anonymous for all intents and purposes) announced that they were moving a handful of people to Texas. In case this wasn't clear by my title, pictures, and extremely cheesy "about me" section… I was one of the lucky employees affected by their decision. My immediate reaction was something along the lines of “NOT A CHANCE”. Although, those of you who witnessed this reaction in real time know that it was far less "PG"... but you get the point. While I love country music... and while I've found myself embarrassingly belting out country tunes at more than my fair share of summer concerts... I never quite understood the infatuation that surrounded the southern drawl and the ability to fry anything (and everything). However, I was convinced to take the allotted time and really think about my options before I signed any paperwork. After all, this decision would affect the rest of my life... Welp, big gulps.

As it turns out, I do a very good job of convincing myself to do something one day, and then talking myself out of that same situation the next. I did this for ninety consecutive days. Miserable. There were pros and cons lists like you wouldn’t believe... with items ranging from highly important (my career) to trivial and insignificant (scorpions, heat waves and the potential for a tornado similar to the one in Twister). Here is where I will insert a quick apology to my three lovely roommates, as well as everyone else who put up with my half-jokes and unnecessary tears for three months straight. To be quite honest, I couldn’t have made this decision without all your support. 

In the end, my fearless, adventurous side only slightly outweighed the part of me that wanted to live in Boston with all my best friends for the rest of my life. I guess I realized I needed to grow up. Not a lot, we’re still working on that whole “growing up” part, but enough to take this risk… or push myself off the edge of the cliff as some would say (which is very much what if felt like when signing those papers) and hope that I find some semblance of wings on my way down. That and the offer was just too good to turn down... girl likes to shop. Just kidding. Almost.

The day I signed my name on the dotted line was one of the most stressful, emotional and exhausting days of my entire working career... yes, I am dramatic. One hour before the dreaded "deadline", I held my breath (literally), scribbled my name and told my boss that I think I've lost my mind. I then grabbed an over-packed bag, hailed a taxi and boarded a plane to Barcelona to visit my beautiful sister abroad. In my mind, the timing was impeccable... two weeks traveling down the coast of Spain and attempting broken Spanish/Catalan with my perfectly wild family seemed like the best combination to get my mind off the last three months. It was just that. Unfortunately, this trip did little to ease reality upon my return... 

From this point out, I plan on documenting my journey in this wonderful, and might I add grammatically incorrect blog... from a life filled with some of the best friends and family a girl could ask for & numerous summer nights spent on the Boston waterfront, to a life halfway across the country. Time to be brave. 

Cheers!