All You Need Is a Light Jacket

Some of you will recognize the reference in the title, and those who do will understand that although I’m not specifically picking April 25th as my day four selection, I am trying to think outside the confines of how it reads. Because, like I thought when reading the list initially and Bridgete said yesterday, how on earth could I pick just one?

Today’s photographic selection is:
A picture of your favorite night

So am I really supposed to look back over time and pick a night, just one, that was the most amazing and significant night of my life? If so how could I honestly rate one above the other?

My wedding was pretty fracking awesome.
• But was it really better than the night I got to celebrate (miraculously) graduating from high school?
• The first night I spent, born, on this planet?
• The first time I had sex?
• A random Sunday on a road trip while laughing hysterically?
• That night I got the ‘all clear’ call from my BFF about the C word?
• The time when I was fortunate enough to be invited on a free trip to Disney and got to go on some of the park’s most awesome rides after dark, with just our group and no one else, then ate a catered and served fancy dinner inside the ride?
• The party at my very first apartment?
• The one and only time I made alternate for the gymnastics League Meet?
• When I saw Jason Mraz with no more than 100 people in NYC, he was still a “nobody”, and I was about 20 feet from the stage when someone yelled at him “have my Asian baby” and despite his obvious end of tour exhaustion he laughed out loud?
• Any of the 3rd of July’s in Humarock?
• The one and only time I ever bet on sports and won $1000?
• The first time I was ever put 'on the list' at the door of a club?
• The night I let my friend’s now ex do up my bleach blonde hair in the most insanely freaky style ever then went out to dance in Raleigh (stone cold sober because I was the DD) and took home an Army brat that I didn’t sleep with?
• The time I saw Joey McIntyre at the Hatch Shell, wrote about the show, pitched it to a local radio station and was subsequently published for the first time?
• Every single night because Matt and I cuddle up and snuggle before falling asleep?
• When I won tickets on the radio to go see Bryan Adams back in the 80’s and my sister and I had my dad take us to Worcester where just the two of us got to see the show from like the second row of the first balcony?
• My grampa Ed’s funeral after party? (No judgment people, we’re Irish so the funeral party is almost as big a celebration of life as a birth, wedding, random Tuesday…)
• The night we were the only Americans in a semi-secret club in Amsterdam because I happened to tip the girl serving me coffee and simply asked where was cool to go dance?
• The first time Matt asked me out (and then I made him wait approximately 1000 more nights before saying yes) when he carried me on his back out of the club (sober) and we realized we had way too much in common as we stayed up almost all night talking over coffee at Bickford’s in Woburn?
• Every single night of my almost 38 years on this planet?

Whew, that’s a tall order!

So I’m not going to pick a night from my past, I’m not going to pick a night of the week either. Instead I’m just going to pick my favorite Night -- "Starry Night" by my all time favorite painter Vincent van Gogh.

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Catch up on anything you missed  30 Photos, 30 Days
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Too Bad The Clash Never Answered Their Own Question

I’ve shared in the past some of the issues with our current apartment -- creepy neighbors who seem to follow us from room to room, the fact that there isn’t a real door on our bedroom, the size and layout of the space -- but most recently we had a flood in the basement and after our landlords seemed to not only let it simply drain on its own but to also allow the dampness to fester, it prompted us to ask the age old question ‘should I stay or should I go (now)?’

You all know the next line and if you don’t feel free to check out the lyrics.

So we started looking at apartments with all of the amenities that we really truly would want in a space, mind you, some of which our current place does have but most it doesn’t. Two bedrooms plus a den (or study, loft, enormous extra storage closet, etc.), 2 bathrooms, a functional kitchen with a dishwasher and plenty of storage, decent closet space, a master bedroom sized to fit a king sized bed, a townhouse with no one above or below, parking for 2 cars and access to the T.

It all sounds easy enough, and truthfully it is, but when we started looking the harsh reality of the Boston housing market came to smack us around while it taunted us with dollar signs and 80’s décor.

The first place we looked at was in Norwood. ‘Where the hell is Norwood?’ you might wonder, don’t worry, I asked the same thing. Just south west of the city this fine town is located smack dab in the middle of the country. But we were encouraged to see that the property had everything on our list and then some.

The T isn’t just close, the commuter rail stops right at the community, the property manager told me I could faux every singe surface of the apartment (non-textural) as long as we painted over it when we left, washer/dryer in the unit, hardwood throughout, large private back patio with extra outdoor storage attached, and end units were available.

Those of you who know me know that I would likely spend little time on the patio because country = bugs and I just don’t do bugs. No matter how nice one’s patio furniture is spiders simply kill it for me. I shudder just thinking about it. Of course Matt would love it so that was a half a plus. It was in our price range but on the reaching end so neither of us were sure we wanted to reach quite that far to be quite that far from everyone; on a good day in no traffic it would take our family and friends at least 40 minutes to get there. Boo.

We went back on the hunt to look for communities and came across a newer complex in Southie. Right at the water’s edge and sort of next to UMass, the place consists of two really gorgeous semi high rise buildings. Based on their info online it had pretty much everything we were looking for but was a lot closer to our loved ones.

So we popped in and asked to see their 2+ bedroom unit. She quite literally frowned at us and said her next available appointment was at noon on Sunday. I referenced the ‘Open House’ sign on the front lawn and received no response. OK, thanks, bye.

On the same day we came across the find of all finds. A townhome community that had all the same stuff as the place in Norwood but it was located in Marshfield just a couple miles from Rexhame beach. Matt and I both grew up at the beach, the beach is where it’s at for us, and after spending a considerable number of years at the south shore, we know just where we’d love to land. Marshfield is a close runner up though so for a rental, it sounded perfect.

We saw photos online of the space and it looked great; nice community building, good size living room and bedrooms and their deluxe model even consisted of a front hall storage closet that was about the size of our current bedroom.

When we got there however, I instantly started singing Oh Mickey and was really bummed that I had left my can of Aqua Net and Balloons at home.

The kitchen was the first room on the left, half bath on the right. Both consisted of confetti and paint splatter style (?) rolled vinyl floors in shades of blue and pink plus white melamine cabinetry which could be doable but the rounded rectangle wood pulls really did nothing to make me want to sign a lease. In a final flourish, the countertops were squared off laminate. Oh yeah, and pink. Like, a grandmother’s bathroom, rose colored, pink. I hardly even noticed the deep pile, baby blue carpet everywhere once we got upstairs and saw that both full baths were decked out the same way.

No soundproofing between the units was a big concern of un-cosmetic proportions and although it did have 2 car parking and heat lamps in the bathrooms (score) it just didn’t seem worth the price considering it was only $100 less expensive than the country apartment.

Of course she did say that some units had forest green countertops and that they were just starting to remodel all of the community’s homes. Starting with the one bedrooms. I guessed we’d be almost retired by the time they got around to all of the townhomes considering the model was stuck in a time warp. We thanked her for her generous time and headed out on our merry way, a little dejected but hopeful.

On the way home we talked at great length about what to do. And then we continued to discuss it for the rest of the weekend. There are things about our current place that we just can’t change but one of the major draws of this apartment from the get go was the price. If we were to consider the place in Norwood, we’d be paying about $600 more a month, and I know that comes with a slew of ‘buts’ on the pro side of the page so it is a tough call.

With all that in mind we started talking about just renting a single family instead. Of course that conversation led right into buying a home. Now you all know we filed bankruptcy last year, as I’ve discussed in length before, so it will be a couple years before we’d be able to do anything about obtaining a mortgage.

So herein lies the dilemma -- stay here and save boatloads of money toward buying a home in a couple years but have to live daily with the creepy neighbors and a coin-op washer and dryer in a mold infested basement, or go and save a bit less money in the short term but be more comfortable in the daily flow of life.

As I type the question I am bombarded by what sounds like the people upstairs (the landlord’s son by the way) bowling in their living room. Sigh.

Matt plans to ask our landlord if we can make a few improvements around here (like new flooring in the kitchen, bath and mud room, a new vanity in the bath and permission to paint the stark white walls with the promise that they will be repainted when we go) and if they say yes to all of that we’ll likely just suck it up and stay for the foreseeable future.

I’ll just have to readjust my bathroom schedule so our neighbors don’t pee at the same time as me everyday, all the time, anymore.

Who Rocks More Than You?

The answer you’re looking for would be no one.

You have flown back to the land of sun and parties to mold the young minds that are entrusted to you every day; to live your life in the place you call home while I live my own in the place I call mine. I think I must have put on about 10 pounds from all the beer but then worked it right back off again from all the laughter this past week.

We dropped W off at Logan at about 8:30 this morning which sounds strange even typing it. I had to think about it for a minute; it feels like I have lived two days since sending her off with a huge hug and a fly safely curbside because Matt and I are gearing up to take off on our annual vacation with friends tomorrow bright and early. I miss the days where it was possible to go and sit with someone in the very uncomfortable vinyl chairs right at the gate and give them that one last hug right before they boarded the plane.

We had one wild week of so much fun and sun I would be in a blur if it was not for the photos. Someone once said something to the effect of “I love digital photos, they allow you to reminisce immediately” and that is what we have done all week. There were many times spent just the two of us to talk about life and family or friends, as well as many others completely surrounded by those same family and friends making new memories that we will no doubt laugh about for the next twenty years.

Man I miss her already.

But such is life across the great wide expanse of our wonderful nation and really there is nothing like that old cliché -- absence makes the heart grow fonder.

Because I am unable to format a rational thought to put it all together I will let the pictures do part of the talking for me this time.

Our first morning at the cottage, this little rascal was chomping away.




We went down to the beach to watch the huge thunder and lightning storm that was moving across the land somewhere down on The Cape and then out to sea. I took literally fifteen photos trying to get my third shot of lightning but to no avail. The clouds were cool but nothing was cooler than my company. W and Matt were naturals, like Abercrombie and Fitch models or something. Work it.







Mom, M & our nephews came down for an afternoon of fun in the sun and although the boys had never seen the ocean graze over their toes they were completely enthralled as I taught them about the undertow and why you should always face the waves as they break. They also loved to learn from W about the sandbar, what it was and how it formed. As I heard things only my Grampa used to say coming out of both of our mouths all day it really made me smile that we could pass it on to the next generation to learn about and respect the sea.




This is a pretty common sight, sorry about the screen.




Although the 4th is when the nation celebrates Independence Day, on our little mile long stretch of sand the real party happens on July 3rd every year. Since I can remember there have been bonfires and fireworks on the beach that night. Technically fireworks are not legal in Massachusetts but neither are bonfires on the beach yet a company hired by the town trucks in hundreds of pounds of unused palates and other wood to build thirty foot high teepee shaped piles that are primed and ready to burn at the end of each street. Never in all the times we have gone to this fiesta have there been that many people or that large a display. It was awesome.






Check out a video of the fireworks and fires.

On the 4th we cooked out with a bunch of family and then took a nice long walk down the beach. Then of course I had to pee because, well, that is just me so W and I went back to the house then back to the dunes to meet up with everyone. My legs are still feeling the burn. Or maybe that is from earlier that walk when I deluded myself into thinking that doing gymnastics on the beach after sixteen years was still a good idea.

Despite what I said earlier this was a week I will never forget.

Stand in Awe

As inspired by taking part in some really fantastic comment discussions recently on subjects ranging from pastry to politics, how these things relate to superheroes and the fact that everything old is new again.

When I was a very young girl I lived in a tiny town called Humarock. If you read me over the fall and winter last year no doubt you heard all about it. The beach and that town in particular, have been the inspiration for many of my endeavors. My business name, Chucka Stone Designs, is a direct derivative (Hum-a-Rock, Chuck-a-Stone). Since a couple family members owned houses there I spent nearly every waking moment on the beach as a kid and as many as I could spend each year after. See my profile picture of me at age three. I still like to be barefoot as much as possible. For a short time when we were kids we lived in my grandparent’s house and my favorite thing about it was the fireplace on cold nights. My sister and I would take our night time shower, wash the dishes from dinner and then toast marshmallows while our hair dried and we watched Wonder Woman. We would go to bed smelling like a campfire, without all the pesky bug bites, knowing that girls who owned invisible jets and deflector cuffs ruled.

As I moved into grammar school, the Care Bears, Strawberry Shortcake and My Pretty Pony reminded me why I was much more partial to trucks and climbing trees so it was no surprise I was drawn to cartoons like Inspector Gadget instead of Muppet Babies. With so many movies being made from old television shows these days it is only a matter of time before someone turns that one into a blockbuster hit. Oh wait, I almost forgot, David Kellogg tried using Matthew Broderick as Gadget back in 1999. It is really hard to keep up.

The current new millennium blockbuster based on a truly one of a kind old time show starred the guy who actually voiced the character of Gadget. How sad that even in 80’s animation Don Adams was pigeon holed into the role of a bumbling idiot spy just like his character Max in Get Smart from twenty years prior.

Now Maxwell Smart was the coolest dork I had ever seen on late night syndication. I mean, seriously, he had a shoe phone for crêpe sake, how could he have not been superfly?

The real secret to both Gadget and Max of course is that they never really did anything right and the women in their lives, Penny and 99 respectively, were the real crime solvers and spy thwarters just like Diana Prince as Wonder Woman. These ladies were the quiet force to be reckoned with even though they were likely dubbed as total geeks; Diana could bench press a football team, Penny’s only friend was a dog and 99 was a multi-lingual violin player.

The moral lesson: Never underestimate the power of a woman. Even if she is a geek, one day she just might save your life or set you free with her lasso of truth.