Pickpockets - here I am!

So, I am officially carrying around about $400 worth of electronic equipment in my purse. Santa brought me an early Christmas present, a Nikon Coolpix digital camera! It's purple! Add that to my cell phone and iPod and I am officially afraid to walk out of the house with my bag. Well, not really.

Nature immediately provided some things for my photography practice.

That's Drew, digging out his car this morning in knee-deep snow. What the picture doesn't show, is that the driveway behind his car was clean of all snow thanks to our trusty new snow plower guy. That's what you get for having a long, narrow driveway. My car is safely tucked in the garage in front of Drew's car. I pulled out this morning, like nothing ever happened!

Other items of interest this weekend were... more snow! Here are some scenic images.

That's our back yard. I should take another picture today, because with the new snow cover you can barely see the fence in the yard.

I mean, just look at it! Cutest house. Ever.

And that's what was going on inside on Sunday night. That, and grilled cheese sandwiches with tomato soup. Warms you right up!

It feels good to be a winner

I've just gotten to the point where I can sit down and think about this week's election and what it means... Of course, I realize what it means for America as a whole - finally, an intelligent president, who can pronounce "nuclear" and who didn't win by casting one half of the country as "elitist" or "right wing" or "religious" or whatever else Karl Rove thought would get people's blood boiling. Yuck.

Since I didn't grow up in the U.S., I don't have the background or the experience to fully appreciate the fact that the country elected a black president. Of course, I understand that it's a HUGE deal, and I am proud of my fellow Americans, but really, in 2008, this should be the norm.

What I think about more - selfishly - is how this election made me feel personally. I got teary-eyed when I cast my ballot - this was my first presidential election since becoming a U.S. citizen. Sure, I voted in primaries, and I went to the caucus this spring, but still, this was the "biggie" that I've been waiting for.

I have no illusions that Obama will be a miracle-worker, or that all of our problems will be solved overnight, or that he won't make mistakes. I also know that my single little lonely vote didn't make or break this election. But the fact that I got to participate - and now have the right to gloat and/or to complain - is an awesome feeling. It really made me feel like I was finally a part of the country, a member of a nation, not just someone who happens to live here and carries a U.S. passport.

I am a bit of a cynic and I don't fall easily for "change" and "hope" and other campaign slogans. But I totally admire those who do and for a while, it was nice to be carried away by that.

P.S. I just found out that the guy who is building our built-in bookshelf placed the Nov. 5 edition of the Journal Tribune under the shelving unit for future generations to find. It has Obama on the front... How super cool is that?

Getting to know you 2

It's been a week in the new house - so far, so good. We are getting used to the creaks and moans of the floor boards - note to self: future project in the living room - and the sounds the furnace makes when it kicks on. When we remember to turn up the heat. I've tackled just a tiny bit of gardening with my parents last weekend and this morning I surveyed the land for the amount of leaves I'll have to rake. Result: a lot.

Some things I've learned:
1. The most useful and underrated spaces in a house are the basement, the garage, and the attic. "Where should I put our suitcases?" "The attic." "Where are we going to keep the Christmas ornaments?" "The basement." Etc. It's easy.
2. Home Depot is awesome.
3. Do not wear heels to Home Depot.
4. When the leaves begin to fall from the trees around your house, curtains become essential.
5. There is always one closet in a house or apartment that never loses that weird homeless man smell that old cabinets can have.
6. Hanging your coats in that closet is not very smart.
7. Turn on the water before attempting to use the washing machine. DUH!
8. If you didn't turn on the water, don't be stupid and tell people about it. The heels at Home Depot already made you look stupid enough and your ego can only take so much.
9. Mums need to get watered. Just because you leave the nice pot outside of your front door, doesn't mean mother nature will take care of it.
10. It's nice to look out the bedroom window in the morning at my own yard, my own trees, and my own lawn.

Getting to know you

So, for the past couple of days I've been getting to know our new house. When we first looked at it with our realtor, it had pale yellow/tan walls, sea shells on the wall, and lots of spiritual or self-help signs like "take it easy" and "live for today." It was a pretty cute house. So we bought it.

Once the seller moved out, and all of her belongings were gone, the house suddenly became sort of dreary and bland. I was and still am worried that it will be hard to warm up to it. So I've been trying to spend some time there, walk around, touch the walls, get to know the house.

I've found many unexpected "gifts" during this process. There is a hummingbird feeder hidden among some bushes in the yard. There is an ornate cross nailed to one of our trees where it looks like lightening might have struck at some point. In one of the bushes by our porch, I've found a small garden gnome. There are a couple of frog statuettes hiding under some leaves by our front door.

All of these discoveries are great and surprising, but also fill me with concern. Is the house hiding weird, unpleasant stuff too? I guess only time will tell.

My other adventure with the house has been the guy, Jeff, who is painting it. He is one of Drew's friends, a general contractor who is giving us a huge price break on the paint job. Much appreciated!

He's been working with another guy, who lives in a cottage on Jeff's property. He is a disabled Vietnam vet who has some "issues," according to Jeff, so he took him in and is giving him work. "It's good karma," I told Jeff, "to help out someone like that." He agreed then continued to tell me that his friend is an excellent musician and that they often sit and write music together.

Now, I don't know Jeff well, but what I know about him are the following: He is an excellent craftsman, he writes and draws political cartoons for Drew's newspaper, and apparently he also writes music and sings. "You are a real renaissance man," I told him. He laughed. It was somehow comforting. Maybe his good karma will transfer to the house through the paint brush.

1996 is dead

1996 was an interesting year for me.

I was a sophomore in college. I was unhappy with my major - especially because it involved four times a week statistics classes at 8 a.m. But by the end of that year I decided to make a change and become a writing major, so things were looking up.

I had plenty of friends and while I wasn't invited to the cool parties with all of the international students - despite being one - I had my own possee of American friends to make up for that.

I had professors whose influence is still with me. I had a cool job the summer before and after my sophomore year at a business paper in Budapest. I might have still been wondering what life was all about -- I am still wondering today -- but everyone around me was doing the same.

That was also the year when very uncharacteristically for me I began a whirlwhind romance/friendship with one of those snotty international students. He was -- and I assume is -- exciting, and smart, and glamorous. He was the kind of guy who I thought would never be interested in a chubby Jewish girl from Budapest. But he was. Things didn't work out with him -- I now understand why and I am OK with it -- but at that time, the 20-year-old me didn't know any of what was to come.

Anyway, so it was a confusing, exhilirating, exhausting, liberating year. The possibilites for excitement and adventure were endless. To remember the time, the place, the people, I bought a Swatch watch after my finals in the spring. It's gold-colored, with the numbers 1-9-9-6 scribbled on the face. It was fitting, I tought.

And today I found out that the watch was dead. I took it in to a watch shop just to get a new battery for it when the salesperson delieverd the news: Your watch is dead. I stood there for a moment and mourned.

First, I thought I was only mourning a fashion accessory. But as I walked back to my office, I realized that my watch's death was somewhat well-timed. For the past couple of weeks, Drew and I have been making plans for buying a house, having a family, and really becoming settled-down adults. And while I never thought I had commitment issues, suddenly I was having heart palpitations when I thought about taking on a 30-year mortgage.

That's almost the rest of my life.

There will be no more spontaneity, no more chances for just quitting our jobs and running away, or traveling to exciting places. We will be stuck. With a house. And a baby. Yikes. All of last week I was plotting my escape -- escape from my responsibilites, from growing up, from being serious. I wanted to be 20 again. I wanted to be carefree and young and naive.

So the death of my watch was a wake-up call in a way. 1996 is dead. "You got 12 good years out of it," the watch repairmen told me.

He was right.