Candy corn rules.
Don't even think about giving out Brach's candy.
Give the Tootsie Rolls to the older ones with no costumes who don't bother to say Trick or Treat.
Play the Halloween movie theme music in the background all day.
Forgo fake eyelashes. I always get an eye infection when I try them.
Friday, October 31, 2008
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Alligator Skin
I realized last night as I tried to muffle Nick's snoring that I haven't written much about culture lately. It's a topic that surfaces in our household, mhm, twice a day or so. There are usually a lot of questions that rise between Nick and I - how to negotiate certain problems, differences, etc - as they do in all marriages. One of the things that I've found quite interesting in our marriage is how the topic of interracial marriage is raised - or not raised - by our peers.
Nick and I trade stories about race, ethnicity, and upbringing all the time. At our core, I think we're quite similar in values (I mean, I wouldn't have married someone who believes in porn and killing off polar bears), but our personalities couldn't be more different. Among those differences is, obviously, race.
If you haven't noticed, I'm Brown and Nick is White. We celebrate different parts of our identity, sometimes more mine because it is much more difficult to feel a sense of belonging when most pop culture, education, history, media - everything - is not reflective of my identity and sense of self. But we're learning how to find balance in that as well. It most often comes up when we talk about having children.
One of the most odd and hilarious things that I get when we talk about having a family someday is when folks says, "I can't wait to see what your kids look like." Well, I hope they're dead gorgeous, but I hope they're a lot of other things first. We know the comments are just taglines to note an interest in bi/multiracial children, but it's not like we're a scientific experiment or something. I'm pretty hopeful the kid's gonna come out with four limbs, a brain, and a soul.
In these current times when race seems to be the hottest button in conversation - from church homilies to CNN - I try to remind folks that understanding difference is a process, one that you should be intentional about pursuing. It is my personal belief that, yes, eventually, "what are you?" is going to be a question of the past and racial features that distinguish cultures and ancestry will be dusty artifacts that only historic pictures will reflect.
As for Nick and I, while we remain supremely confident in the good looks of our future children, we do make it a priority that s/he will understand the Filipino flag as much as the American flag. They'll eat rice with Philippine cuisine, as they'll hear stories about small town Russia and their dad being the valedictorian and prom king. Our kids will hear stories about the racism their mom and maternal grandparents endured and how immigration was a messy topic once upon a time. They'll learn how to build faith in life, as well as death, and learn that kindness and grace begins in the family at home. They'll be mixed, yes, but they'll learn it's a blessing and privilege, not a confusing misfortune that resulted when two Xavier students fell in love in Cincinnati.
So, to answer a question that came up in the car from a good friend, "So, does, like race come up for you guys, since, you know, you're in, like, an interracial relationship?"
Simply stated, yes.
Nick and I trade stories about race, ethnicity, and upbringing all the time. At our core, I think we're quite similar in values (I mean, I wouldn't have married someone who believes in porn and killing off polar bears), but our personalities couldn't be more different. Among those differences is, obviously, race.
If you haven't noticed, I'm Brown and Nick is White. We celebrate different parts of our identity, sometimes more mine because it is much more difficult to feel a sense of belonging when most pop culture, education, history, media - everything - is not reflective of my identity and sense of self. But we're learning how to find balance in that as well. It most often comes up when we talk about having children.
One of the most odd and hilarious things that I get when we talk about having a family someday is when folks says, "I can't wait to see what your kids look like." Well, I hope they're dead gorgeous, but I hope they're a lot of other things first. We know the comments are just taglines to note an interest in bi/multiracial children, but it's not like we're a scientific experiment or something. I'm pretty hopeful the kid's gonna come out with four limbs, a brain, and a soul.
In these current times when race seems to be the hottest button in conversation - from church homilies to CNN - I try to remind folks that understanding difference is a process, one that you should be intentional about pursuing. It is my personal belief that, yes, eventually, "what are you?" is going to be a question of the past and racial features that distinguish cultures and ancestry will be dusty artifacts that only historic pictures will reflect.
As for Nick and I, while we remain supremely confident in the good looks of our future children, we do make it a priority that s/he will understand the Filipino flag as much as the American flag. They'll eat rice with Philippine cuisine, as they'll hear stories about small town Russia and their dad being the valedictorian and prom king. Our kids will hear stories about the racism their mom and maternal grandparents endured and how immigration was a messy topic once upon a time. They'll learn how to build faith in life, as well as death, and learn that kindness and grace begins in the family at home. They'll be mixed, yes, but they'll learn it's a blessing and privilege, not a confusing misfortune that resulted when two Xavier students fell in love in Cincinnati.
So, to answer a question that came up in the car from a good friend, "So, does, like race come up for you guys, since, you know, you're in, like, an interracial relationship?"
Simply stated, yes.
Monday, October 27, 2008
I was there, compliments of my friend and loyal OSU alum, Christy who was kind enough to take me to her cushion-y amazing seats at the OSU/PENN State game. I was about 65 feet from Lebron on the sidelines and got peaks of Tressel working his magic.
There are certain rules I abide by at big games and the guy behind me broke #2:
Thou shall not annoy another fans who are trying to enjoy the sporting event in an energized and civilized manner.
If you're going to be cursing up a storm, I'd rather you just blow f-bombs into the water instead of using the name of the person who, I happen to believe, is the savior of our planet.
STOP YELLING JESUS CHRIST INTO MY EAR CANALS followed by an expletive of how Tressel needs to move the safeties up. I know Maurice Wells has butter fingers, but STOP YELLING JESUS CHRIST at the top of your lungs. Not only does it massively annoy me, but I'm at the borderline of turning around and saying something along the lines of, "Shut up. Just shut up. You. Are. A. Disgrace." But, Christy shook her head at me. So I bit my tongue and just yelled all the louder, "COME ON D, HOLD THEM!" along with the thunderous Ohio stadium.
I'm not an uptight person, but put the Jesus Christ AK47 away because it grates just a weetzy bit too much on my ears. Say hell, shit, or damn as much as you want. Go CRAZY with the f-bomb. Even an occasional g-damn is better than a 2 hour yelling spree of about JC.
The first OSU game I went to was against Texas a few years ago. They lost. I feel like I might be a curse to big OSU games. I very well may just stay at home in the name of my fanhood.
Nick was at a dinner party (oh la la, we're moving up in the world) with coworkers, their significant others, his boss and pastor, and a lovely couple hosting them for dinner, where he confessed to me later he was surreptitiously watching the game. His cover was blown when he peaked and saw Pryor fumble the ohsoimportant ball that spurred Nick's rare outbursts, "Are you freaking kidding me?"
He then apologized for his outburst that interrupted the conversation.
When I thought of the potty mouth sitting behind me and the string of Jesus Christs he hurled out onto the field, it only made me love the "Are you freaking kidding me," all the more.
Nick if far too easy to fall in love with.
Friday, October 24, 2008
It's So Not 2001
Morgan is our niece. Two days ago, she just turned ten years old. I called to wish her a happy birthday and then passed the phone to Nick so he could greet her as well. This is what I heard:
Nick: Hi Morgan!
pause (obviously, I can't hear Morgan.)
Nick: Happy Birthday!
pause
Nick: That's great! What'd you do at school?....You passed out kit-kats? I be your classmates were loving that one.
pause pause pause
NIck: So, ten years old huh? You're getting old! What'd you get today?
long pauses, Nick is walking around the living room. My eyes (and ears) follow.
Nick: You got a bike? That's pretty freaking cool.
short pause
Nick explodes, "You got a cell phone?"
I hear giggling from Morgan.
"You got a cell phone? Of your own? ...Man, I didn't get a cell phone till I was out of college."
There you have it. It's official. When you compare the timeline between yourself and someone who is a decade old when you got your first cell phone, it's over. We. Are. Old. Farts.
Nick: Hi Morgan!
pause (obviously, I can't hear Morgan.)
Nick: Happy Birthday!
pause
Nick: That's great! What'd you do at school?....You passed out kit-kats? I be your classmates were loving that one.
pause pause pause
NIck: So, ten years old huh? You're getting old! What'd you get today?
long pauses, Nick is walking around the living room. My eyes (and ears) follow.
Nick: You got a bike? That's pretty freaking cool.
short pause
Nick explodes, "You got a cell phone?"
I hear giggling from Morgan.
"You got a cell phone? Of your own? ...Man, I didn't get a cell phone till I was out of college."
There you have it. It's official. When you compare the timeline between yourself and someone who is a decade old when you got your first cell phone, it's over. We. Are. Old. Farts.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Dear Nick, Blame it on the Rain
Surprisingly (or perhaps, not surprisingly) references to Milli Vanilli frequently come up in our talks. Whenever we have a difference of opinion, Nick will squint his eyes, scrunch his features so his head looks wrinkled, put it two inches from my face and sings, "GIRL YOU KNOW IT'S TRUE! YES YOU KNOW YOU IT, GIRL YOU KNOW IT, YES YOU KNOW IT'S TRUE!"
The other day I off-handedly said, "...blame it on the rain," having no idea where that come from.
Nick thoughtfully repeated, "Mhm. Blame it on the rain. What do you think that means?"
"It means blame it on the rain." For once, I was the factually based one.
"No, the song. What does it mean? I think this is the first time I've ever thought of those lyrics."
Well, my darling wonder of the peanut butter sky, here are the lyrics. This is what I think it's about: a fool breaks up with his girlie; knows it's his fault; isn't man enough to apologize because of his pride; and blames everything but himself.
BLAME IT ON THE RAIN LYRICS by Milli Vanilli
You said you didn't need her
You told her good-bye (good-bye)
You sacrificed a good love
To satisfy your pride
Now you wished
That you should have her (have her)
And you feel like such a fool
You let her walk away
Now it just don't feel the same
Gotta blame it on something
Gotta blame it on something
Blame it on the rain (rain)
Blame it on the stars (stars)
Whatever you do don't put the blame on you
Blame it on the rain yeah yeah
You can blame it on the rain
Get
Ooh, ooh (ooh)
I can't, I can't. I can't, can't stand the rain
I can't, I can't. I can't, can't stand the rain
Yeah, yeah
Should've told her you were sorry (sorry) huh
Could have said you were wrong
But no you couldn't do that. No, no
You had to prove you were strong ooh
If you hadn't been so blinded (blinded)
She might still be there with you
You want her back again
But she just don't feel the same
Gotta blame it on something
Gotta blame it on something
Blame it on the rain that was falling, falling
Blame it on the stars that did shine at night
Whatever you do don't put the blame on you
Blame it on the rain yeah yeah
You can blame it on the rain
Cos the rain don't mind
And the rain don't care
You got to blame it on something
(Blame it on the rain)
(Blame it on the stars)
Whatever you do don't put the blame on you
Blame it on the rain yeah, yeah
You can blame it on the rain
Girl
Ooh, ooh (ooh)
Girl
I can't, I can't. I can't, can't stand the rain
I can't, I can't. I can't, can't stand the rain
Get
Girl
(Whatever you do...)
(Blame it on the rain yeah, yeah) x 3
You can blame it on the rain, blame it on the rain,
blame it on the rain baby
(Blame it on the rain yeah yeah)
Blame it on the stars that did shine that night
(Blame it on the rain yeah yeah)
Blame it, blame it on the rain
woo
I'm walking
I'm walking
Walking in the rain
Walking in the rain
(Rain, rain)
(Stars, stars)
Whatever you do don't put the blame on you
(Blame it on the rain)
yeah yeah
(Blame it on the rain)
that keeps falling, falling
(Blame it on the stars)
that did shine that night
Whatever you do don't put the blame on you
Blame it on the rain yeah yeah
Blame it on the rain (rain, rain)
The other day I off-handedly said, "...blame it on the rain," having no idea where that come from.
Nick thoughtfully repeated, "Mhm. Blame it on the rain. What do you think that means?"
"It means blame it on the rain." For once, I was the factually based one.
"No, the song. What does it mean? I think this is the first time I've ever thought of those lyrics."
Well, my darling wonder of the peanut butter sky, here are the lyrics. This is what I think it's about: a fool breaks up with his girlie; knows it's his fault; isn't man enough to apologize because of his pride; and blames everything but himself.
BLAME IT ON THE RAIN LYRICS by Milli Vanilli
You said you didn't need her
You told her good-bye (good-bye)
You sacrificed a good love
To satisfy your pride
Now you wished
That you should have her (have her)
And you feel like such a fool
You let her walk away
Now it just don't feel the same
Gotta blame it on something
Gotta blame it on something
Blame it on the rain (rain)
Blame it on the stars (stars)
Whatever you do don't put the blame on you
Blame it on the rain yeah yeah
You can blame it on the rain
Get
Ooh, ooh (ooh)
I can't, I can't. I can't, can't stand the rain
I can't, I can't. I can't, can't stand the rain
Yeah, yeah
Should've told her you were sorry (sorry) huh
Could have said you were wrong
But no you couldn't do that. No, no
You had to prove you were strong ooh
If you hadn't been so blinded (blinded)
She might still be there with you
You want her back again
But she just don't feel the same
Gotta blame it on something
Gotta blame it on something
Blame it on the rain that was falling, falling
Blame it on the stars that did shine at night
Whatever you do don't put the blame on you
Blame it on the rain yeah yeah
You can blame it on the rain
Cos the rain don't mind
And the rain don't care
You got to blame it on something
(Blame it on the rain)
(Blame it on the stars)
Whatever you do don't put the blame on you
Blame it on the rain yeah, yeah
You can blame it on the rain
Girl
Ooh, ooh (ooh)
Girl
I can't, I can't. I can't, can't stand the rain
I can't, I can't. I can't, can't stand the rain
Get
Girl
(Whatever you do...)
(Blame it on the rain yeah, yeah) x 3
You can blame it on the rain, blame it on the rain,
blame it on the rain baby
(Blame it on the rain yeah yeah)
Blame it on the stars that did shine that night
(Blame it on the rain yeah yeah)
Blame it, blame it on the rain
woo
I'm walking
I'm walking
Walking in the rain
Walking in the rain
(Rain, rain)
(Stars, stars)
Whatever you do don't put the blame on you
(Blame it on the rain)
yeah yeah
(Blame it on the rain)
that keeps falling, falling
(Blame it on the stars)
that did shine that night
Whatever you do don't put the blame on you
Blame it on the rain yeah yeah
Blame it on the rain (rain, rain)
Monday, October 20, 2008
Chewing the Big Apple
Nick and I returned late last night from our a-w-e-s-o-m-e weekend out in New York City. We left late Thursday night after work and drove to Stroudberg, PA and stayed at the Quality Inn hotel right off of I-80. My sister, her beau Tom, and Nick fell right asleep, but I, a bit too excited to be in New York stayed wide awake staring at the ceiling until 4:00am. Eventually, my heart beat calmed down and I was able to catch some zeez.
We were off the next morning, only an hour and half from New York and I drove, weaving in and out of the traffic and loving the smell of the eastern seaboard. Ahhh, how I miss the grit of the Big Apple...
We dropped Carm and Tom off to see the Empire State Building while Nick and checked the car into a parking lot. We walked the city, Times Square and made fun of everyone, inlcuding ourselves. I grabbed a lovely NYC falafel sandwich while Nick slurped down caffeine and met up with my best bud, Tricia, who has a fabuous two story fantasy apartment 10 blocks from Central Park and 3 blocks from Times Square. I tell you, some people lead extraordinary lives. Her fiancee, a chef who cooks Alex Rodriguez' lunches was off traveling somewhere in Boston. Nick finally met Pouzo (POO-ZOE), Tricia's famous bulldog. I wasn't sure how that relationship was going to go, but Nick seemed alright with him for the most part.
I headed off to meet my good friend, Jen Buckley, for coffee and Nick headed to meet up with the rest of my family. At 8:30pm, we all met downtown for a welcome reception. Delish food, wedding cake #1, and an open bar got us all off on the right foot as we toasted Geri and Jim on their wonderful union. My family - in from all over the country - had an awesome time just catching up and talking about the weekend, hugging, and laughing. There's really no replacement for family. Nick and I were glowing.
Saturday began with Pouzo trying to lick Nick's face and Nick jumping out of the roll-out we were sleeping on. We headed to Central Park for a nice long walk and experiened first hand why autumn in New York is arguably the best time of year in the city. Soooo gorgeous and relaxing.
If you remember my friend Becky, who was my dearest friend from my trip to the Philippines, lives in New York and met up with Nick and I for a quick lunch at Dean and Deluca. It was hard to tear ourselves apart and laughed for an hour straight while Nick just shook his head at us.
Off to the wedding at St. Francis Xavier...a beautiful church with rich music and lots of friends and family. I must must must learn how to take picures during the vows. I had to put my camera down because I was bawling when Geri started crying. Aigh, it was a debacle. I can never get a grip when people start crying. It's like someone else's tears are the keys to my tear ducts to lose control.
Off to Cipriani's on 23rd street where we partied like rock stars all night. If this gives you any clue how the night was going: NICK FAST DANCED WITH ME. It was like an alternate universe. I loved it.
Typical Factora family scenario: we waited outside on the sidewalk for 45 mintues because we couldn't decide where to go. Never mind we had native New Yorkers in the group, never mind that everyone was fine with WHEREVER, never mind that we were in walking distance of a gazillion of suitable bars and restaurants that could have accomodated us. No, we wait 45 minutes until my uncle states, "Ok, we're going to the Waldorf Astoria lobby and we'll decide there."
RED FLAGS, BUTTONS, RINGS, LIGHTS, AND BANNERS were waving in my head. Nick is shaking his head, "Typical Factora decision. We're in Manhatten and decide to go the LOBBY OF WALDORF to try and make a decision about where to hang out."
I kind of screech, "No!! We're going to Dewey's. It's three blocks from here. It's a bar. That's where we're going!" and proceed to march in the wrong direction.
Thankfully Nick redirects my shoulders and says appreciatively, "Nice effort though, babe. They'll follow."
So another 30 minutes later we finally enter Dewey's.
A bit of drama rama enfolded after about an hour: we were kicked out of the bar.
Oh, so typical...
We had two underage boys with us (my cousins - one 15 the other 7 year old - who were appropriately not allowed in the bar. We spoke with the manager who said that as long as they stayed with their parents and didn't drink, they'd be fine.
Cool.
So we sit and order drinks.
After they get their orders in and take 3 sips of their beer, the manager comes out and says, "please finish up and leave."
Uh, ok.
So, apparently he changed his mind that we could stay. Fine, I slirp down my crazy drink of tap water with ice and lemon while Nick barely had drank his draft and got up from the table. My male cousins, 827 men strong, are puffing out their chests like angry peacocks and flooding the bar, demanding to have their bill waived because they should have told us up front we weren't going to be allowed to stay and why should we now have to pay for a beer that we got 3 sips out of. Oh dear.
So, all hell is breaking loose and I'm rolling my eyes. I tell Nick, "Let's get out of here before we're all arrested."
Not to stereotype males in bars, but things can go from pleasant to out of control is .04 seconds.
So, I'm anxiously waiting for Nick to get out of the bath room so we can leave and I hear escalating voices from the bar. Oh dear.
Nick, where are you? Let's go! Let's go!
I sneak through tall people's armpits and raised glasses to find Nick standing absolutely still, enraptured in ESPN sports scores. While my family is having a throw down with managers and bouncers and threatening to sue, Nick is trying to figure out the Red Sox scores.
"NICK!"
"Ohhh! Hey!!"
"LET'S. GO. NOW. NOW."
"I was just checking -"
"I know what you were checking. Now is not the time to be checking ESPN scores."
So we exit in the midst of a lot of drama and make it home after an eventful night downtown.
Sunday morning we wake up and head to brunch at the Waldorf. Geri and Jim were upgraded into the finest suit they had to offer in the Waldorf Towers. Barack Obama had just checked out as the previous guest and Geri and JIm were next in line. Of course everyone - regardless of political party - was going crazy and my father whipped out his cap that said, "McCAIN FOR PRESIDENT 08!" while we feasted on our lovely brunch.
I was brainstorming what to touch in the suite so I could say I touched the same things as Barack and decided touching every door handle was the best option. I also plopped down and sat on the bed to make sure I got sit on the same mattress that our potential next president had slept in.
After a family picture, Tom, Carm, Nick and I loaded up the car and head west for Ohio.
This post doesn't even BEGIN to give this weekend justice. It ranks in the top 3 weekends of all time.
Pictures soon!
We were off the next morning, only an hour and half from New York and I drove, weaving in and out of the traffic and loving the smell of the eastern seaboard. Ahhh, how I miss the grit of the Big Apple...
We dropped Carm and Tom off to see the Empire State Building while Nick and checked the car into a parking lot. We walked the city, Times Square and made fun of everyone, inlcuding ourselves. I grabbed a lovely NYC falafel sandwich while Nick slurped down caffeine and met up with my best bud, Tricia, who has a fabuous two story fantasy apartment 10 blocks from Central Park and 3 blocks from Times Square. I tell you, some people lead extraordinary lives. Her fiancee, a chef who cooks Alex Rodriguez' lunches was off traveling somewhere in Boston. Nick finally met Pouzo (POO-ZOE), Tricia's famous bulldog. I wasn't sure how that relationship was going to go, but Nick seemed alright with him for the most part.
I headed off to meet my good friend, Jen Buckley, for coffee and Nick headed to meet up with the rest of my family. At 8:30pm, we all met downtown for a welcome reception. Delish food, wedding cake #1, and an open bar got us all off on the right foot as we toasted Geri and Jim on their wonderful union. My family - in from all over the country - had an awesome time just catching up and talking about the weekend, hugging, and laughing. There's really no replacement for family. Nick and I were glowing.
Saturday began with Pouzo trying to lick Nick's face and Nick jumping out of the roll-out we were sleeping on. We headed to Central Park for a nice long walk and experiened first hand why autumn in New York is arguably the best time of year in the city. Soooo gorgeous and relaxing.
If you remember my friend Becky, who was my dearest friend from my trip to the Philippines, lives in New York and met up with Nick and I for a quick lunch at Dean and Deluca. It was hard to tear ourselves apart and laughed for an hour straight while Nick just shook his head at us.
Off to the wedding at St. Francis Xavier...a beautiful church with rich music and lots of friends and family. I must must must learn how to take picures during the vows. I had to put my camera down because I was bawling when Geri started crying. Aigh, it was a debacle. I can never get a grip when people start crying. It's like someone else's tears are the keys to my tear ducts to lose control.
Off to Cipriani's on 23rd street where we partied like rock stars all night. If this gives you any clue how the night was going: NICK FAST DANCED WITH ME. It was like an alternate universe. I loved it.
Typical Factora family scenario: we waited outside on the sidewalk for 45 mintues because we couldn't decide where to go. Never mind we had native New Yorkers in the group, never mind that everyone was fine with WHEREVER, never mind that we were in walking distance of a gazillion of suitable bars and restaurants that could have accomodated us. No, we wait 45 minutes until my uncle states, "Ok, we're going to the Waldorf Astoria lobby and we'll decide there."
RED FLAGS, BUTTONS, RINGS, LIGHTS, AND BANNERS were waving in my head. Nick is shaking his head, "Typical Factora decision. We're in Manhatten and decide to go the LOBBY OF WALDORF to try and make a decision about where to hang out."
I kind of screech, "No!! We're going to Dewey's. It's three blocks from here. It's a bar. That's where we're going!" and proceed to march in the wrong direction.
Thankfully Nick redirects my shoulders and says appreciatively, "Nice effort though, babe. They'll follow."
So another 30 minutes later we finally enter Dewey's.
A bit of drama rama enfolded after about an hour: we were kicked out of the bar.
Oh, so typical...
We had two underage boys with us (my cousins - one 15 the other 7 year old - who were appropriately not allowed in the bar. We spoke with the manager who said that as long as they stayed with their parents and didn't drink, they'd be fine.
Cool.
So we sit and order drinks.
After they get their orders in and take 3 sips of their beer, the manager comes out and says, "please finish up and leave."
Uh, ok.
So, apparently he changed his mind that we could stay. Fine, I slirp down my crazy drink of tap water with ice and lemon while Nick barely had drank his draft and got up from the table. My male cousins, 827 men strong, are puffing out their chests like angry peacocks and flooding the bar, demanding to have their bill waived because they should have told us up front we weren't going to be allowed to stay and why should we now have to pay for a beer that we got 3 sips out of. Oh dear.
So, all hell is breaking loose and I'm rolling my eyes. I tell Nick, "Let's get out of here before we're all arrested."
Not to stereotype males in bars, but things can go from pleasant to out of control is .04 seconds.
So, I'm anxiously waiting for Nick to get out of the bath room so we can leave and I hear escalating voices from the bar. Oh dear.
Nick, where are you? Let's go! Let's go!
I sneak through tall people's armpits and raised glasses to find Nick standing absolutely still, enraptured in ESPN sports scores. While my family is having a throw down with managers and bouncers and threatening to sue, Nick is trying to figure out the Red Sox scores.
"NICK!"
"Ohhh! Hey!!"
"LET'S. GO. NOW. NOW."
"I was just checking -"
"I know what you were checking. Now is not the time to be checking ESPN scores."
So we exit in the midst of a lot of drama and make it home after an eventful night downtown.
Sunday morning we wake up and head to brunch at the Waldorf. Geri and Jim were upgraded into the finest suit they had to offer in the Waldorf Towers. Barack Obama had just checked out as the previous guest and Geri and JIm were next in line. Of course everyone - regardless of political party - was going crazy and my father whipped out his cap that said, "McCAIN FOR PRESIDENT 08!" while we feasted on our lovely brunch.
I was brainstorming what to touch in the suite so I could say I touched the same things as Barack and decided touching every door handle was the best option. I also plopped down and sat on the bed to make sure I got sit on the same mattress that our potential next president had slept in.
After a family picture, Tom, Carm, Nick and I loaded up the car and head west for Ohio.
This post doesn't even BEGIN to give this weekend justice. It ranks in the top 3 weekends of all time.
Pictures soon!
Thursday, October 16, 2008
And We're Off
Nick's packing job for NYC, departure time: 5:15pm EST
Nick and I, along with my sister Carmen and her beau Tom, are off to New York City, the backdrop for my cousin's wedding. This has been a much anticipated event in my side of the family. Weddings are usually an enormous gathering of my cousins from all over the country and this will be no exception.
Geri, my cousin, and her fiancee Jim are in the NYC elite, selecting some of the finest establishments the Big Apple has to offer to hold their prenuptial festivities. Of course Nick and I are there to witness love sanctified by the sacrament, but it sure doesn't hurt when you get to have brunch at the Waldorf or dance your patooty off at Cipriani's where, word on the street claims, P-Diddy had his birthday party. The most exciting part, though, is for my whole family to be together and getting to hug my NYC, where I feel my blood runs most smoothly.
I was born a little outside the city in New Jersey and lived in both states before my family moved to OH-IO in gradeschool. Growing up, we frequently went back to visit our family who swear by the east coast waters. I must admit, while Ohio is my home, my heart still beats for the east coast too. It's the same way Nick feels about Russia. We live in different places as we get older and we love where we are, but, had life gone in separate directions, he'd choose Russia. I'd choose NYC. Dorothy said it best, "There's no place like home." So, we've packed our Sunday best, and then some, and are headed off to drive to the Big Apple tonight. We're staying over in a hotel a little outside the city before driving in Friday morning and then we'll be back late Sunday night.
While making the hotel reservations last night, I was having problems getting my perfectly clear American Express to go through in the reservation. I ended up calling American Express and spoke with Loraine who explained the card had been temporarily on hold in hopes that I would call because they noticed suspicious activity on my card. Some fool tried to buy Travelocity tickets and other purchases on the internet. I was furious with this nameless, faceless phantom who tried to use my card. I was half-panicked that someone was pretending to be me, doting a black wig and sunglasses, signing my unmistakably long name Ana Lisa F. Factora-Borchers on each and every purchase. The thought made me sick. Nick, the steady hand in sticky situations, was not too alarmed.
Nick reasoned, "Well, at least they denied those charges. We're not paying for anything that we didn't buy."
"I DON'T WANT TO PAY FOR SOMEONE TO VACATION IN THE BAHAMAS!"
He replied,"We're not. And if they try again, American Express will deny it again because of what happened today."
"WHAT IF IT GOES THROUGH TOMORROW WHEN THEY TRY AGAIN?!"
Nick looks to the side as he always does in thought, "Well, we'll call and cancel the card, explain the situation, and then they'll revoke the charges."
I calmed down, "I just don't like the idea of some fool trying to be me."
Nick is turning his interest to the laptop, "Yeah, but it's just someone trying to use your card number. They probably won't try again because everything was denied."
I get fired up again, "I PRESSED LORAINE TO TELL ME DETAILS SO I CAN FIND THIS IMPOSTER."
"I'm sure you did."
"I want to say to this fool, 'You want to be me? Just try it. I'll kick your ass if you try to be me.' Then, I'd ask them, 'You think you could pull off being me?' It's not easy to be me, you know."
Nick was patiently waiting for my rage to spill over, listening to my rants, "That's for sure. Now help me pick out what to wear to the brunch."
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Cincinnati, By the Way...
is looking pretty amazing downtown!
Nice improvements, Queen City. Doesn't that just make sense the square looks this great AFTER Nick and I have left?
The Pumpkin Patch
If you want to see the greatest orange pictures of your life, click here.
By the way, these are my nephews and niece along with sister, sister-in-law, and brother thrown in there too. (Good question, Mandy...)
By the way, these are my nephews and niece along with sister, sister-in-law, and brother thrown in there too. (Good question, Mandy...)
Photographing Munchkins and Travel Plans
Nick and I are back under the same roof, thank the good Lord.
Last week he left for El Salvador for a five day trip and I headed to Cincinnati for a wedding reception. I stayed with old friends, Julie and Pat (aka Goatee) Ryan with their too cute progeny, Nathan, (aka Sideshow). The Ryans live in lovely house in Loveland and I had shuttled myself between Loveland and downtown Cincy with trusted traveling icon, Moses (our GPS). It was a a terrific weekend.
One of my biggest fears of photography is photographing children. Wait, I should more accurately write, one of my biggest fears is photographing children with hyperphoto parents. In my quest to single-handedly bring down the portrait department of Walmart, I have begun studying the technique of photographing children. There's not much that can be done in terms of lighting, grips, lens, and aperture when children are just scared of this gigantic black device with a huge glass eye staring them down in the face, all the while you have stuffed animals flying behind them and high pitched voices asking them to smile. If I were a toddler, I'd start crying too.
But, I had the challenge to try and photograph Nathan, aka Sideshow, who is one of the cutest babies around and he's a completely adorable ball of fun. And then yesterday, I went to my first pumpkin patch with my niece nephews. It was another portrait session with Halloween and fall colors as the background. In both cases, it's hard to keep kids interested. Thankfully Goatee and Julie and my brother and sister-in-law are NOT the overeager, piggybacking the photographer kinds of parents.
In other news, Nick returned Sunday night from Latin America with a renewed spirit and commitment to social justice. We fell asleep that night, he - exhausted from travels and El Salvador, me - exhausted from driving and Cincinnati, mumbling about our plans to live a more intentional life so we can give more to those who are in true need around the world.
Our travel plans continue: this Thursday we leave for my cousin's wedding in New York City. We'll be driving with my sister and her boyfriend for one of those three day fancy schmancy weddings which we love to attend as guests. It'll be a nice Factora family reunion with lots of folks coming in from all over the country to party it up at Cipriano's.
While I continue to send pitches to magazines and reputable presses, i've also received a few inquiries into my photography services. YES! Continue to spread the word: I will travel whenever, whereever, and will be an awesome smiling photographer on your special day. In the meantime, more resumes are flying around like the dried out autumn leaves. Nick actually asked if I would be interested in working at a bank while something more permanent rolls around.
A bank?
Like, working with numbers?
The only award I ever received that included numbers was in the 4th grade playing travel when we had to memorize long division drills.
I don't think banking is for me. Just sayin'.
TO SEE SOME PICTURES OF FOUR SERIOUSLY ADORABLE CHILDREN, CLICK HERE.
Last week he left for El Salvador for a five day trip and I headed to Cincinnati for a wedding reception. I stayed with old friends, Julie and Pat (aka Goatee) Ryan with their too cute progeny, Nathan, (aka Sideshow). The Ryans live in lovely house in Loveland and I had shuttled myself between Loveland and downtown Cincy with trusted traveling icon, Moses (our GPS). It was a a terrific weekend.
One of my biggest fears of photography is photographing children. Wait, I should more accurately write, one of my biggest fears is photographing children with hyperphoto parents. In my quest to single-handedly bring down the portrait department of Walmart, I have begun studying the technique of photographing children. There's not much that can be done in terms of lighting, grips, lens, and aperture when children are just scared of this gigantic black device with a huge glass eye staring them down in the face, all the while you have stuffed animals flying behind them and high pitched voices asking them to smile. If I were a toddler, I'd start crying too.
But, I had the challenge to try and photograph Nathan, aka Sideshow, who is one of the cutest babies around and he's a completely adorable ball of fun. And then yesterday, I went to my first pumpkin patch with my niece nephews. It was another portrait session with Halloween and fall colors as the background. In both cases, it's hard to keep kids interested. Thankfully Goatee and Julie and my brother and sister-in-law are NOT the overeager, piggybacking the photographer kinds of parents.
In other news, Nick returned Sunday night from Latin America with a renewed spirit and commitment to social justice. We fell asleep that night, he - exhausted from travels and El Salvador, me - exhausted from driving and Cincinnati, mumbling about our plans to live a more intentional life so we can give more to those who are in true need around the world.
Our travel plans continue: this Thursday we leave for my cousin's wedding in New York City. We'll be driving with my sister and her boyfriend for one of those three day fancy schmancy weddings which we love to attend as guests. It'll be a nice Factora family reunion with lots of folks coming in from all over the country to party it up at Cipriano's.
While I continue to send pitches to magazines and reputable presses, i've also received a few inquiries into my photography services. YES! Continue to spread the word: I will travel whenever, whereever, and will be an awesome smiling photographer on your special day. In the meantime, more resumes are flying around like the dried out autumn leaves. Nick actually asked if I would be interested in working at a bank while something more permanent rolls around.
A bank?
Like, working with numbers?
The only award I ever received that included numbers was in the 4th grade playing travel when we had to memorize long division drills.
I don't think banking is for me. Just sayin'.
TO SEE SOME PICTURES OF FOUR SERIOUSLY ADORABLE CHILDREN, CLICK HERE.
Thursday, October 9, 2008
Does NO ONE need a therapist anymore?
Or a photographer? Or freelance writer?
Those are the three avenues of job hunting that I've been doing.
If you're new to the Ratcho's life you need to understand something kind of obvious: I'm a writer determined to have my way with the world.
Now that we're all on the same page, you can understand that writing, unfortunately, does not come with any guarantees. It has the stability of, say, a 10 year old boy surfing out on Australian coastlines. It's volatile, my friends. (No McCain pun intended there at all.) And so, that means I must find a way of finding a sustainable income. First there's the practical part of me: the part that is a-d-d-i-c-t-e-d to all things academic and mental stimulation and books and theory and debating and learning. That's the part of me that loves to counsel, fight for women's interest issues, and psychology. The downside is that NO ONE IS HIRING BECAUSE OF THE LOUSY ECONOMY. Now, if I had fulfilled my mother's wishes and my father's demands to go into healthcare (Dad: Medicine is the ONLY noble profession. Or law, that's ok too.") (Mom: "Why not nursing? You'll always have a job! You can do anything!"), I would be set here in Cleveland, home to approximately 298716 hospitals and medical centers. With Cleveland Clinic so close and Case Western around the corner, medprofessionals are cruisin' the good life here in Brownsfanville.
Then there's photography. Ahh, my third love (Nick #1, Writing #2)...photography is this artistic release for me. It's the one thing that I seriously feel I could do all day and feel like I have not worked at all. It's simply a joy to look through a lens and calculate white balance, lighting, exposure, ISO, and all these other acronyms that I have no idea of what their function is (but I sound smart so I use them like I know what I'm talking about). I started shooting photography the moment I could afford a camera. If you didn't know this about art (especially photography and painting - my other obsession) they require quite the pretty penny; something without a steady income makes the starving artist/starving wife not very happy.
So, I've been doing a few weddings here and there just for fun and then Nick started getting on my case, "Why don't you just do this as a side business?"
My standard reply, "Once I start doing it for money, the fun leaves. That means I'm responsible for someone's wedding photos and I don't want to be the photographer that forgot to turn something on and -oops- I missed the bride coming down the aisle."
One thing you have to understand about wedding photography is that it's just like trying to find a home - there are mansions, impressive houses, condos, and apartments - lots of variety and it's all about fit. Some are definitely better than others and everyone has a price and quality they aim for (both customer and photographer). My pitch isn't for the population that can spend thousands upon thousands of bucks on photos. I want clients who want good photos that capture a story and who can't afford a great photographer. For folks struggling to make a wedding happen or just have a memory preserved, I want to be able to provide that for folks who may not otherwise be able to afford it. So, yeah, I've got a price, but I'm working on a sliding scale. As Nick loves to gloat, "You're not only awesome, but cheap, too! You'll be a hit!" I'm not looking for the mansion clients, just good people.
So after about, oh 3.5 years of shooting weddings for fun, I finally broke down and announced that I'm available for hire. Yep, I teamed up with a web designer to create: Lisa Factora-Borchers Photography
Preserving your memories since 2008!
Just kidding, that's TOTALLY not my tagline.
If you're interested and know of anyone needing portraits or a wedding photographer - go to my website:
lisafbphotography.com and you'll see my current work in progress.
Those are the three avenues of job hunting that I've been doing.
If you're new to the Ratcho's life you need to understand something kind of obvious: I'm a writer determined to have my way with the world.
Now that we're all on the same page, you can understand that writing, unfortunately, does not come with any guarantees. It has the stability of, say, a 10 year old boy surfing out on Australian coastlines. It's volatile, my friends. (No McCain pun intended there at all.) And so, that means I must find a way of finding a sustainable income. First there's the practical part of me: the part that is a-d-d-i-c-t-e-d to all things academic and mental stimulation and books and theory and debating and learning. That's the part of me that loves to counsel, fight for women's interest issues, and psychology. The downside is that NO ONE IS HIRING BECAUSE OF THE LOUSY ECONOMY. Now, if I had fulfilled my mother's wishes and my father's demands to go into healthcare (Dad: Medicine is the ONLY noble profession. Or law, that's ok too.") (Mom: "Why not nursing? You'll always have a job! You can do anything!"), I would be set here in Cleveland, home to approximately 298716 hospitals and medical centers. With Cleveland Clinic so close and Case Western around the corner, medprofessionals are cruisin' the good life here in Brownsfanville.
Then there's photography. Ahh, my third love (Nick #1, Writing #2)...photography is this artistic release for me. It's the one thing that I seriously feel I could do all day and feel like I have not worked at all. It's simply a joy to look through a lens and calculate white balance, lighting, exposure, ISO, and all these other acronyms that I have no idea of what their function is (but I sound smart so I use them like I know what I'm talking about). I started shooting photography the moment I could afford a camera. If you didn't know this about art (especially photography and painting - my other obsession) they require quite the pretty penny; something without a steady income makes the starving artist/starving wife not very happy.
So, I've been doing a few weddings here and there just for fun and then Nick started getting on my case, "Why don't you just do this as a side business?"
My standard reply, "Once I start doing it for money, the fun leaves. That means I'm responsible for someone's wedding photos and I don't want to be the photographer that forgot to turn something on and -oops- I missed the bride coming down the aisle."
One thing you have to understand about wedding photography is that it's just like trying to find a home - there are mansions, impressive houses, condos, and apartments - lots of variety and it's all about fit. Some are definitely better than others and everyone has a price and quality they aim for (both customer and photographer). My pitch isn't for the population that can spend thousands upon thousands of bucks on photos. I want clients who want good photos that capture a story and who can't afford a great photographer. For folks struggling to make a wedding happen or just have a memory preserved, I want to be able to provide that for folks who may not otherwise be able to afford it. So, yeah, I've got a price, but I'm working on a sliding scale. As Nick loves to gloat, "You're not only awesome, but cheap, too! You'll be a hit!" I'm not looking for the mansion clients, just good people.
So after about, oh 3.5 years of shooting weddings for fun, I finally broke down and announced that I'm available for hire. Yep, I teamed up with a web designer to create: Lisa Factora-Borchers Photography
Preserving your memories since 2008!
Just kidding, that's TOTALLY not my tagline.
If you're interested and know of anyone needing portraits or a wedding photographer - go to my website:
lisafbphotography.com and you'll see my current work in progress.
Monday, October 6, 2008
Taking the Good and the Bad: A Poetic Update
With gaining a brother (in-law), you lose a sister to Knoxville
A brand new front loading washing machine, a leaky valve
Fresh black tires for the Corolla means a new rustling noise for Bill to diagnose
A gorgeous wedding in Long Beach Island, New Jersey lends itself to overeating in a major, major way
Hitting Philadelphia traffic is nauseating, but we were able to visit the Rocky statue (aka the most important monument in my life)
October Fall means trying to understand how to turn on a furnace for the first time
Nick leaving for El Salvador in 36 hours means begging my sister to move in for a few days
An impending fun Cincinnati trip this weekend means more traveling in the car
Wonderful opportunities to write means harsh editors and quick deadlines
Sending out resumes for awesome jobs means email rejections from time to time
Having so many terrific friends who choose the same Saturday wedding date means horrendous choosing for us (our 100th apology and love to Meg & Dave, Cara & Drew, and Kerri & Chris)
SIGH
[end of poem]
On deck: trip to Cincy for me, trip to El Salvador for Nick (5 days)
And then: NYC wedding for my cousin
And then: OSU vs. PENN State game for me, Nick sweating somewhere else in Columbus area
A brand new front loading washing machine, a leaky valve
Fresh black tires for the Corolla means a new rustling noise for Bill to diagnose
A gorgeous wedding in Long Beach Island, New Jersey lends itself to overeating in a major, major way
Hitting Philadelphia traffic is nauseating, but we were able to visit the Rocky statue (aka the most important monument in my life)
October Fall means trying to understand how to turn on a furnace for the first time
Nick leaving for El Salvador in 36 hours means begging my sister to move in for a few days
An impending fun Cincinnati trip this weekend means more traveling in the car
Wonderful opportunities to write means harsh editors and quick deadlines
Sending out resumes for awesome jobs means email rejections from time to time
Having so many terrific friends who choose the same Saturday wedding date means horrendous choosing for us (our 100th apology and love to Meg & Dave, Cara & Drew, and Kerri & Chris)
SIGH
[end of poem]
On deck: trip to Cincy for me, trip to El Salvador for Nick (5 days)
And then: NYC wedding for my cousin
And then: OSU vs. PENN State game for me, Nick sweating somewhere else in Columbus area
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