Fortastic fun

Little brother is up from Charlotte. Yee-haw. We had the two loveliest lazy days off. No plans, no agenda. Just way too much food, lots of laughs, and teasing into infinity.


Tuesday was the better weather of the two days, so after a slow morning we figured we should do something. We started off with breakfast at The Big Bean and then headed for Maine for some fort fun.


First stop: Fort McClary

Excellent shell, buddy.

A rocky shore in Maine? That's something you
don't see every day (yes, you do).

This isn't what I meant when I told him to smile for the camera.

Inside the fort is cool octagonal living.

Michael appreciated how important it was to put caution tape
over the small window no one can fit through.

Soooo much nicer than the WALK OF SHAME STAIRWAY.

This was the only reasonable explanation for this contraption.

Captain was a pimp, yo.

Good thing we chose to drink AFTER maneuvering this staircase.

Second stop: Frisbee at Fort Foster

 

Michael chose to dance a jig even while I held the camera. Geek.

Yes, too many pics of my brother. It's just rare
to get him not making a face.

"It's nice . . . ya know, except for all the people."
Good god, we're antisocial.

What, you thought there would be Frisbee action shots? Ha! That's funny.

But all that driving around, playing Frisbee, and hanging by the ocean sure can make a person hungry. Michael had heard about my recent adventures in bacon and was not going to miss out. So to Fury's in downtown Dover, we went.

Why is the bacon taking so long? Sadness.

Ahhh, there we go. The famed Bucket O Bacon that I can't stop talking about on
social media. Fried pickles on the lower platter. And, yes, they're spears, which
I've bitched about in earlier posts. But they were done well. Brother and sister approved.

Wednesday was rainy, so we vegged. And then we vegged some more. We watched movies and surfed the Interwebs, side by side. I made Muddy Buddies. Sometime around 3, we showered and headed to the Riverworks for a late lunch and much drinking.

Now, I got a lot of crap for posting on fb a picture of my fridge the night Michael arrived:

The first thing I want to explain is that it's a Santa suit on my bottle of prosecco. Needed to clear the air on that. The second is that I knew we'd a) be eating out a lot and b) go shopping together. And did we. It was like a college-style binge. We're disgusting and should never live together. I've only been eating vegetables since he left.

I am aware of how lucky I am that we get along as well as we do. We totally piss each other off--he shares too much locker talk, until I squeal, "Noooooo! I can't hear this!" I talk about all the cannibalism stories in the news lately ("How could they tell who he was? The man has. no. face!") until Michael turns green and tells me to shut up. But there's a lot of love and respect in there. He's now on the last leg of his tour, hanging with the folks, and I miss him already.

xo

Today was just your average Monday

CallieCat made friends with a hornet.

And then couldn't understand why I pulverized it with a flip flop.

Work was a blur. Something like this:

from netglos.com

Then off to Portsmouth for dinner and a little light reading.

And finally to the Portsmouth Music Hall Loft. This place is fantastically small.

The guest? This guy: 

Professor Henry Louis Gates Jr.

Funny, smart, sincere, and over the top at the same time. They didn't let him speak nearly long enough.

Price of admission includes a beverage, his newest book, and a meet & greet. He said this book was a work "that Daddy could read." A departure from academic publish-or-perish pressure, this book is 500 pages of pictures and text of the history of African Americans. A book he hoped his father would flip through while watching baseball on TV.

Africans first came to the Americas in 1513--almost 100 years before Jamestown. Say what?! And I bet they didn't eat their shoes or neighbors (ahem).

Of course I fumbled my words when I met him and nervously talked about finding passion and being an inspiration blah blah blah. Oy. But I also asked if I could get in on the dinner they had been discussing (Indian, no less!). Professor Gates and UNH Professor Wilburn laughed--and while they didn't say yes, they didn't say no. I can only imagine what a great conversation they're having right now over pakoras. Boys, I think we've only just begun this dialogue.

And just imagine how cool it will be when I'm on PBS getting all kinds of Frenchie history thrown at me after a DNA check. Sigh...

Mill Girl goes native (in, you know, a mill)

If you've talked to me regularly over the years, you know how much I loved my mill apartment in Somersworth, NH, even if I wasn't exactly thrilled with the town itself. Damn, that was a nice apartment.

And if you've talked to me regularly over the past six months, you know how excited I've been about the mill in downtown Newmarket, NH, coming back to life. I've watched it raise its weary head, stretch its limbs, and become home. I've crushed on it and taken far too many pictures along the way. And after promising repeatedly to blog about it, here she goes. Gertrude, run the tape.

Early on, she was just a drawing.

I totally geek out over floor plans.

I combed over the apartments, excitedly, and settled on a little one with a river view and one adjacent neighbor. Unit 427 was supposed to be a 1-br, but it ended up being a 744 sq ft studio. Having been spatially spoiled for so many years, I wasn't sure I was going to be able to fit my whole life into a studio. But I liked the challenge of living a more minimalistic lifestyle. 

And then the landlord kindly let me visit repeatedly to check in on my girl as she took shape.

I spent a lot of time measuring and wondering
whether I could fit everything.

I admired the view as the seasons changed.

The tall shaft in the center is the freight elevator.
I'm the top three windows to the right of it.

I signed the lease in February.

And I moved in March 2nd.

 

I still have organizing to do. The closets are packed with things I'm unsure of. And it's weird to sit up in the morning and see everything I own in one room. But it's also really nice. The view of the sun coming up over the river while I'm reading in bed in the morning can't be beat. And I'm hopeful about the community feel being established in the building.

Sorry for the Halloween pic in April...

A while back, someone told me I couldn't be a city girl--I was too much of a country girl, wouldn't adapt well, etc. I don't know if I agree with that. What I do know is that it's a new-found freedom to walk to everything. Live music, brunch, chocolate croissants, used books, fish and chips, beer, library, Chinese food, yoga, art space, water--it's all right here, mostly across the street. I adore my adopted hometown. And Mill Girl is spectacularly happy to be back in her natural habitat.

Ta-daaa!

I can't imagine many things that would be more cool than getting an unexpected visit from me. And with some scheming on Ligia's part, I was able to do just that to my little brother this past weekend down in Charlotte. When I rang the doorbell, he expected someone who would be checking the AC. Instead, he got ME.

Priceless!

Some of my adventures:

1. Ate Colombian food. Yummy fruit juice, yucca fries, plantains, beans, rice, steak, and a scary pork product. And I love how other cultures always set a fried egg on top of a meal. I approve.

2. Explored World Market. My inner hippie girl was enthralled by some of the trinkets and decor offerings. But then we took part in a wine tasting. All the wine quickly reduced me to an infantile level of humor, during which I wandered around taking random pictures.

Microwaveable!

3. Ate chocolate. My brother has a chocolate shelf. Let that sink in: an entire shelf of chocolate. Please note that this doesn't stop him from acquiring more every time he goes out, and he's not quick to share.

While we don't look alike, his love of chocolate assures me
that we're related. Behold the famous chocolate shelf.

*sigh* We sampled dark chocolate with bacon and milk chocolate
with bacon. Both were gross. Such sadness.

4. Almost was sent packing. I opened the back door to let a cat in. I accidentally also let in a hornet. At 9 p.m. In March. Doh. Totally didn't expect that. Little brother was none too happy.

Sorry, Michael

5. Saw mummies. The mummy exhibit was much cooler than I expected. The exhibit was jam-packed with people, and they all kept to a strict line formation. That part was weird. I, as you might guess, could not keep to the line formation. I pissed people off and hated humanity pretty quickly. But the mummies kicked ass.

The Tattooed Woman

6. Realized I want seahorses. We killed time by checking out the aquarium in the lower level of Discovery Place. Look at how cute these things are! I love how they hitch up to the plants and each other when they take a nap.

7. Petted many cats. And a dog. Having just put down my little girl, it was fantastic to spend time with little furry friends.

Seth

Stanley makes serious biscuits.

Sorry, Roxy. Hope you're feeling better.

8. Had good quality time with people I love. Michael was pulled into some work stuff on Sunday. And that was too bad, but it was great to spend time alone with Ligia. We shared a lot of stories and a nice glass of wine late in the afternoon. We didn't manage to get a pic of her. Very sly, Ligia. Next time.

See you in June, buddy.

xo

Today Queens has lost a king

A one-act play, one year ago in Queens, NY--

Jose (thick accent): Kelly, you come back to New York City soon. I show you de good, de bad, de oggly!
Me: Slow down, Jose. I don't need to see the ugly side of New York City. But I'll take you up on the first two.

Jose passed away this morning. I won't pretend that I knew him well. But one didn't need to know him well to love him much. He treated me like family from the moment we met. Alex, Ligia, and Mama Ligia, my heart is with you tonight.

Jose Hernandez 1938-2012

xoxo

Dear Jo-Ann Fabric,

It was tough being a crafter at a young age in the '80s. While other suburban kids were perfecting a flimsy moonwalk in their driveway or enticing members of the opposite sex with mall coat*, I secretly was learning to cross stitch from my mom. My behavior was decidedly uncool, but I enjoyed it.

Cut to the '90s. The college years. I don't recall much stitching during the earlier years. Actually, I don't remember much of anything from those years. Funny, Jo-Ann, to owe so much money for years I'm not sure even existed.

Sometime around '96-97, I moved into a notorious off-campus apartment: The Farmhouse. Yes. Capital letters, Jo-Ann! Not to worry. There were only a few arrests during my time there.

So perhaps this is Jaya the Cat playing in the living room...

Somewhere between bottles of blush wine (Jo-Ann, it's so embarrassing to admit that; I'm glad to report that I drink boxed red now), the old crafting bug started to itch me. I decided to make a quilt. And I turned to you, Jo-Ann. I came to you for materials and advice. And then I sat in that damn party house, a glass of shite wine by my side, and I stitched the saddest damn around-the-world quilt ever known. Cute boys would stop by, and I would sit in that chair we picked up by the side of the road, look up at them through my Sally Jesse Raphael reading glasses, and have to explain, "I'm making a quilt." Surprisingly, some of them were stoned enough to think it was cool. Hello, I'm Kelly. I compost, read Byron, and quilt.

Let's move on to the new millennium, shall we?

Now, as a fully functioning, totally-have-my-shit-together-most-days adult, I am a proud crafter. Oh, Jo-Ann, I'm still not a very good quilter (seriously, don't look too closely at any of my quilts), but I think I'm a pretty damn good stitcher. But I worry that when people hear about cross stitch, they picture this:

*shudder*

I work hard to break that image. Very hard, Jo-Ann. Because I think crafting has come a long way over the years.

Blackbird Designs

Classy! www.subversivecrossstitch.com

My current work in progress...

And this brings me to my point.

Jo-Ann, I beg you to explain this recent flyer:

Did this sad poncho picture increase sales? Or just seizures?

I have endured a lot of flack over the years for crafting. And I have defended these arts. And there you go, in one fell swoop, shitting all over my hard work. Who the hell wants to craft after seeing this? Across the nation, well-meaning crafters are telling loved ones that they're almost done knitting them something. And this, Jo-Ann, is what those recipients are picturing. How could you? Screw the feminist movement; you have pushed the crafting movement back 30 years! And you had help:

1. Someone had to knit this ugly fucking thing.
2. It was then chosen for a photo shoot.
3. The poor woman in the picture adorned it. Is she trying to stifle a giggle in that picture?
4. Someone on the set had to dry the tears from the little girl's eyes when forced to stand closer to this hideous monstrosity.
5. Who the hell took the picture?
6. Someone picked this photo out of, surely, a collection of knitted goods photos. Did they do it as a joke one Friday night, and then, come Monday, find it had gone to the printer?

The list goes on.

At any point, did someone raise a hand and meekly ask whether another picture might be better? Anyone? Were they shot down? Is everyone on the design, graphics, layout, and marketing team over the age of 86?

You owe it to the hip crafting world, Jo-Ann, to explain yourself.

Yours in needle and thread,

Mill Girl

*In the '80s, there was an affliction called "mall coat." Girls in malls across the country would shrug their coats off their shoulders, but not take them completely off. They wore them kind of like Victorian ladies might wear a shawl. I think it was a self esteem thing, trying to keep their bodies bundled up and out of view. Surely, I never took part in this practice.

Smell ya later, 2011

I love this time of year! Quiet pondering of what has passed and confidence in what is to come. 

In 2011, I picnicked below the Eiffel Tower, watched bears in Virginia, and ate curry gravy fries in Montreal. My first real surgery taught me about pain and what it means to be fully vulnerable. I had a moment of ultimate honesty with someone, and it made for a positive turning point in that relationship. I freed myself of back pain after 11 years, and all it took was some gentle yoga poses and stretching. I spent a lot of time with all of my dear Masshole friends. I laughed a lot.

I love these broads.

 

I went public with this silly blog! It was more terrifying than I expected, and also more rewarding. I appreciate the positive reinforcement I received from you online and in person. It makes up for all the time spent biting my nails at home alone thinking, You’ve gone too far, Ahlquist. 

It was a difficult year for many people close to me. I have watched a lot of people hurt and process that hurt. It tugs at me and puts all of my own pains in perspective. But I believe in new beginnings. I believe that January is a magic resetting of the clock. And when I’m frustrated with the crap going on around me, or how I allow myself to be swallowed up in that crap, I always think of a quote from Love Actually (no snickering). After years of harboring a secret love for Juliet, Mark bares his soul at her doorstep. Like an exorcism. And as he walks away, he straightens up and, with resolve, says, “Enough. Enough now.” There’s no better time than NYE to stand up straight and acknowledge you’ve had enough. And that the future, with all of the complications it’s bound to bring, holds a lot of promise.

2012 is going to be fantastic.

 xoxo