Birthdaypalooza 2015...Antigua!

Antigua... Birthdaypalooza 2015

Day one! 

Antigua and Barbuda are part of the Leeward Islands in the Caribbean, and the destination for my 46th birthdaypalooza. Having only been familiar with St. Maarten and Saba, Antigua is a nice departure, because it is largely underdeveloped. It is also British, so imagine my surprise when our rental car was backwards! Not being used to driving on the left side of the road, it took a true partnership to drive (Tiff reminding me to keep left and me to actually drive the car), and it actually made my brain feel weird. Sugar Ridge is located on the west side of the island, about a 20 minute drive. Maps are useless, as there is not one single street sign, so directions are given like southerners give them- with land marks. After a wrong turn, which put us in the middle of St. John on cruise ship day, we got to the resort in time to check in and get settled.

So far, being on this island is like being in a tree house! The hotel is nestled on a cliff overlooking the ocean. Above our room is a restaurant and bar called Carmichaels, so  we went there for a drink and check out the view. Our bartender Alex introduced us to the local rum, which is English Harbor 5. Unlike some of the neighboring islands, like the banana rum of St. Maarten or Saba Spice, their rum is just aged for 5 years and is very smooth. They just drink it with a little cranberry juice and lime, it was yummy! Alex (our bartender) fed us several and we sat by the pool and watched the sunset.

 Afterwards, we went out to dinner down the road at another place called Sheer Rocks-   Recommended by several people on the island. It is just a series of small bungalows clustered together... We had tuna tartare,  scallops and pork belly and a coconut curry with local clams and scallops- all were amazing. Had 2 bottles of French Chablis, which were delicious. Crisp, a little creamy, and a great pairing with the seafood. Runs about $90/bottle, here, and about $20 in the US.

 That's the other thing- this island is outrageously expensive compared to St. Maarten...we dropped about $300 on dinner last night. Won't be doing that again. The currency used on the island is called the ECU (Eastern Caribbean Unit), but everyone also takes dollars. The exchange rate is about 2:1 ECU:US.

Anyway- there were Cuban frogs in the bushes all around us, (the locals called them crappos) and they make a pinging sound- not a croaking like you would think... It almost sounds robotic. It was very cool. The moon rose over the water, just a sliver, but enough light to make the water sparkle, and was an excellent backdrop for a lovely dinner. There were also little beds everywhere... It would have been perfect to lay there  after dinner with a cocktail and look and the billions of stars in the sky. Thoroughly buzzed and ready to go back to the hotel, we stopped back by Carmichaels for a nightcap, and ended up crashing early. 

Day 2... Friday... Spa Day! 

Once we got to the hotel and got the lay of the land, we quickly realized that we needed to do some rearranging of the schedule in order to get the most of our time here. That meant hitting the spa after breakfast to see if we could get everything done in one day. So, after breakfast (eggs Benedict, bacon, fruit punch, coffee- yummy) we headed off to the spa to see what we could do. Luckily, the spa gods were smiling on us and we got everything moved to that afternoon. Since we had the morning to kill, we asked where we could go to the beach, and Jacqui O's at Love Beach was suggested. We hopped in the car and drove over (it was about 5 minutes from the hotel) and found an awesome spot! Antigua boasts 365 beaches, which is easy to do, because the island has a lot of pockets and rocky coastline, so they count each patch of sand as a beach. This was no exception- Love Beach is very secluded, and felt a lot like what you would find at Orient Bay on St. Maarten, but without the tourists, and clothing a must do. The staff made us feel very welcome, and got us set up on a round rattan beach bed ($38 for the day, which ends at Sunset).

More yummy rummy goodness, served up by Priscilla (our server) and some great conversation with Kershell and Raquelle  made the morning go very quickly. We broke away around 1pm and headed back over to the spa for our treatments. We each had a massage, then Tiff got a facial and I got a Caribbean Body wrap, which made my skin feel amazing! More recommendations led to making a dinner reservation at OJ's, which is a local favorite, and had a great reputation for seafood. We also learned that Seafood Friday's are big on the island- probably because of religion, but I never really found out for sure. We showered up and headed back to Jacqui O's for a drink before dinner. When we got there, they were just shutting down for the day- Lance, the owner was there with some friends, and us, so he invited us to join him. One of the many fascinating things about the island are the people you meet, and how the "locals" really aren't locals, but people from all parts of the world who made island life a choice. Around the table: Lance, who was the creator of DentMaster in England, the U.S., Dubai, and who knows where else, sold everything and decided to buy Jacqui O's because he wanted to own a restaurant on the water. He also bought the house next door. A beautiful French woman who spoke little English but was apparently in town long enough for lance to take a fancy to- she was supposed to cook him dinner at his place later in the evening, and Scott and Simone. After a few drinks, the stories started to come up about how everyone got to the island... Scott was an online gamer, who allegedly got in trouble state side and had to leave the country, and was one living permanently in Antigua. Simone, his girlfriend of 2 years, was a native Antiguan and came from a prominent family on the island. They invited us to dinner, and the whole group told us we had to go, so Tiff and I decided to take a left turn and go with them. We blew off our reservations at OJ's and followed them to Jolly Harbor down the road to a Greek restaurant located at the harbor. They are regulars, so we were seated at a great table and Scott promptly ordered a bottle of chateau Neuf de Pape (fab), then ordered another one for fun. We ordered dinner, and talked about the states, got into a philosophical discussion about life and relationships, at which point Scott was a little drunk and launched into a raging case of the hiccups. He got up from the table, and wandered off into the bushes to pass out... Simone promptly had their dinner packed up, paid the bill, and invited Tiff and I to finish dinner, which we did. The owner of the restaurant talked to us (another transplant who chuck edit all and moved his whole family to the island) and let us know that what happen to us was a pretty regular occurrence. I can only imagine how homesick he is, and what it must feel like to never be able to go back home. He'd been gone for 8 years. (Note to self- check out the book "Straight Flush"- it's apparently all about him). 

Headed back to the hotel, because we heard there would be dancing, and found a really lame cover band in a empty bar (except for a table of Canadians). We stayed for a few minutes, gave up, and went to bed. 

Saturday Day 3- adventure day!

Since we were able to have all of our spa love the day before, we decided to take a boat trip around the island on a catamaran. The Wadadli Cat took off from Jolly Harbor and was a day long excursion... After making a few stops to pick up people from different beaches, we headed off to our first stop for snorkeling. The crew o of the boat was great- very hospitable and very knowledgable about the island- Wadadli is a name you see on everything on Antigua- it's literally a nickname the locals gave the island, and call Barbuda Wiomi (not sure that's spelled right). They also have a dialect that is very similar to Gullah or Geechie in the Carolinas, but they don't have a name for it. It's largely English, but very sing-song. Some other notable facts- Antigua attracts a lot of celebrities because it still is undeveloped and very private- Georgio Armani, Oprah Winfrey, and Eric Clapton had a few of the houses we passed along the way. Long Island, which is a barrier island off of Antigua, held a lot of celebrity homes. The island was was also a volcano, so a lot of the cliffs are striking- it looks like a plate recently shoved out of the water.

Our snorkel spot was a very private spot with very clear water on the Atlantic side of the island. There were lots of fish- snapper, chum, jacks, sea urchins, parrotfish...just to name a few. Once we got done snorkeling, the rum punch came out, followed by a hot lunch of chicken, tilapia, rice and beans, pumpkin, and Mac and cheese (I guess they were trying to appeal to the Americans) and a banana cake for dessert- all of which was delicious. Locally made hot sauce came with it...it had a kick but wasn't painful and available for sale along with other souvenirs. We also stopped along the beach for another swim, so tiff and I grabbed snorkels and masks and puttered around the boat to see if we could find any more fish- we found a starfish instead.

We got back to shore around 3:30 and headed back to hotel to shower up and get ready for dinner at OJ's since we had blown them off the night before.

OJ's was a much different experience than Sheer Rocks- it really is more of a local favorite, and a lot more down and dirty. The menu is very simple. Mostly seafood, but burgers as well, and live music on Saturday nights, which was appealing. We ordered grilled lobster and grilled snapper (which was some of the best fish I've ever had- simply grilled whole, with lemon, garlic and herbs), served up with rice and beans, salad, and garlic bread. Our spicy shrimp was spicy and garlicky, but very good.  The band came on, and played reggae versions of a lot of cover songs.  The only bad part of evening was when we tried to get  the check- there was no bartender and no stations, so the servers were scattered and running around trying to get everything done and failing miserably. It sort of put a damper on the evening so we went back to the hotel and had a nightcap, and was in bed by 11- I think we were both just wiped out by being out all day in the sun.

Day 4... Sunday and homeward bound :(

Since we had to be checked out of the hotel by noon, we spent a leisurely morning having breakfast and one last quick trip to the beach- we only had an hour, so we headed back to see our new friends at Jacqui O's, say goodbye, and leave a note to thank Scott and Simone for dinner. The beaches are so beautiful and it was hard to leave.

So... Some learnings:

Sunday's are big family days on the island- almost everything is closed, so our original plan to check out St. John was thwarted. BUT... It's also the big night to go out in Shirley Heights, and seafood is a must do there, along with great music and parties. A lot of the locals go there. We didn't hear of anywhere specific, but it sounded like fun. Next time, a Sunday stay over is a must.

Car rental- it was nice having a car for the flexibility of getting around, but not really necessary. The hotels have shuttles that are free and will take you wherever you need to go- beaches and St. John in the daytime, dining at night. It was nice having the option at night time, so drinking and driving wasn't a problem. 

Dollars are accepted everywhere- even though it's technically a British country. Go figure.

Everyone is very nice, and all of our advice on where to go was good. 

4 Days is not long enough to see the island!!! One week is better. There are a lot of Europeans and Canadians who visit there and/or have vacation homes there- it might be a good  idea to research and see if VRBO might be an option.

Generational Differences... When the hell did I get so old?!?

Sooo... I started a new job this week. I have taken on the Century Club of Rochester (a women's club that has been around for literally 100 years) to sell as an event space, and to help build its membership. 

The first event I was involved with was a group of Syracuse University students, who used the house for the whole weekend for training exercises,  camaraderie, etc. A very nice group of people. 

I've always thought of myself as a younger person- I don't look my age and I certainly don't act like it. But this weekend among these students was the first time I actually FELT my age. Has anyone ever experienced this? Here I am, thinking I'm pretty caught up with the times, and I'm listening and watching one of the last activities of the night, which was a No-Talent Talent Show. These kids were amazing- dancing, singing... but it was their spoken word that really got me. They talked mostly about being misunderstood, saving the planet, being saddled with the problems my generation handed over to them... with language and terms I'd never heard of before. It's the same kind of stuff I remember talking about when I was their age... I think... but when I was 22 I had just moved to Europe and was concentrating more on having fun and seeing the world than trying to fix it. Maybe that's the problem. These kids (and I use that term loosely) seem a LOT more world weary than I ever did, even now. Yet they were treated with that ridiculous "No Child Left Behind" mentality- they weren't allowed to drive from Syracuse to Rochester because their powers that be felt they weren't responsible enough for their own personal accountability.

How did I become so separated from this? Is it because I don't have kids? Am I too swept up in my own little world to notice? What can I do to stay connected? I DON'T want to become one of those people who becomes bitter about the incoming generations because I just don't understand them. 

I actually feel bad for this generation. They came up through a system that taught them the minimum to understand, but nothing about life or the world or how to survive in it. They are in a digital age of instant gratifiication and zero privacy, encouraged to express themselves, but criticized for doing so. They are accused of having  a false sense of entitlement, but  are given awards and medals for just showing up, without learning the merits and rewards of hard work and dedication. I am thankful every day that the internet wasn't around when I was young- I never would have survived. I love my privacy (that sounds so hypocritical, considering I'm on facebook every day) but appreciate the digital age because it allows me to connect with the world.

As I was locking up after the event last night, I found the scrap paper used to scribble down some of the spoken word- an example:

what's worth fighting for?

sometimes

on a face

falls

all the inconsistencies

of a 

wavering wing.

Call it an expression

sometimes 

fists develop

instead

of progress

call it an alternative.

A passion does not boil into a generation

it is spoonfed

to those hungry

enough to ask

for spoons before they taste what is in them

it is not cold and unbalanced

like some diets

but it is a volcano, elephant in the room loud.

And nothing tame has ever

conquered its opposition.

whatever our fists develop into

whatever expressions fall on our face

whatever finds a way out of our throats

call be called enough to work towards.

On Health... Or...If I Knew Then What I Know Now

My mother was never an active person- she liked to talk about it, but never really acted upon it. I think because her mother lived to be 93 and her dad lived to be 93, I just expected my mother to be around forever. When she died at 68, it made me think a lot about her general health, and subsequently mine, because after all, I am her kid.


I've always been pretty active, but in the past few years (my married ones, specifically) I've settled into a shlumpiness that was pretty hard to get out of. Prior to that, I ran and worked out fairly regularly (with occasional bouts of laziness). I once stopped drinking for almost a year, and concentrated solely on getting to the gym and working out, and it was probably the best shape of my life... other than the period of time I didn't own a car and biked everywhere... I WISH I could talk to that me again... I'd tell her to never stop. Her body was ROCKIN'.


When my mother died, I weighed about 170 lbs, my blood pressure and cholesterol were out of control, and I was depressed all of the time. But grief is a funny thing... I guess you could say that the best thing about it is that it's an instant diet suppressant- I dropped almost 10 pounds between mid December and February 2009. Finally I woke up one morning and realized that if I didn't start taking care of myself again, I would end up like my mother, so I downloaded the Couch to 5K Running Plan, and hauled my ass onto the treadmill.

Since then, if I've learned anything, is that you have to approach your relationship with your body like you would with another person...and you have to decide to commit to that relationship. If you can't do that, then you'll never be successful. You also have to hold yourself accountable- for me, that meant finding like-minded people to be accountability buddies, so when I had those days when I didn't feel like working out, they could motivate me, and I them. 

Endorphin's are the best- a runners high, or that feeling you get after a really great workout is pretty addictive- I always close my eyes after a hard run or workout, and remember the way my body feels. On the days when I'm not so motivated, I can recall those moments, and it's enough to get me going.

As for diets, I've tried a lot of them with different levels of success and failure. I've done cleanses, the Atkins Diet, the South Beach Diet, gone vegetarian and vegan and eating right for my blood type (A Positive). For me, a mostly veggie heavy diet with fish and chicken thrown in makes me feel the best...coupled with a hard workout that makes me sweat for at least an hour. It keeps my blood pressure and cholesterol down, and makes me feel happy.

All I know is that I don't want to end up like my mother- I want to live a nice long life, and I have to promise myself that I will keep my commitment to my body and my health. If I have a bad day (or what I call a day of poor food choices), I just chalk it up to being human, and make a point to make it up to myself as soon as possible. After all... it's OK to reward yourself now and then... for me, that means beer and BACON.

The Art of the Hug

I am a hugger. I love giving them, and I LOVE Getting them. If someone looks like they need a hug, (even if they are a stranger to me) you can bet I'm gonna give one.


When I was living out in California, I was working in a bar/restaurant as a server. One afternoon, a woman came into the bar, sat down at a bar top, and ordered a drink.  I didn't know her- she just looked lost. The look on her face said she needed a hug, so I asked her if I could give her one. Without a word, she held her arms out and I hugged her. When we broke apart, she thanked me- she had just come from a funeral.


I believe that hugs are like handshakes- you can tell a lot about a person by the way they hug. Like a wimpy handshake, a weak hug is a colossal waste of time. 


A hug can mean many different things...
"Hi!"
"Welcome Back!"
"We won!!! WOO HOO!!!"
"I need you..."
"I want you."
"I love you."
"I'm sorry."


It's the best and most humane way to communicate to someone that you care. I'm not saying that every hug you give has to be all consuming and intense, but to me, a "fake" hug feels like an insult. You what I mean- I call it the Miss America Hug: arms are bent at the elbow so they don't go all the way around your body, a couple of pats on the back (like a baby being burped) and the push away. If you're going to hug somebody, mean it.


A hug, if it is sincere, (at any level) can be felt in your soul. It can last a few seconds, or a few minutes, or an eternity. It can energize you, revive you, recharge you, give you peace. Rock you to your very core and leave you breathless. (I've only had a few of those in my lifetime, and it brings back the same feeling just thinking about them.)


If I am remembered for anything, I hope its that I gave a good hug. After all- you never know if it will be the last chance you have to give one... 

Nan...12.20.10

My Nana died... She was 93. She was the oldest living person on my mother's side of the family. I could write volumes about my Nana, and although she wouldn't think so, I think she led a very interesting life. She was 3 when women earned the right to vote, she was 12 when the great depression happened. She worked for a company that wouldn't allow married women to work, and worked for them while secretly married (quite the rebel, like me). 
She broke her arm twice in the same year, and had to teach herself to write with her other hand while healing... as a result, you could put a pen in both hands, and you couldn't tell the handwriting apart. She painted, quilted, kept a daily journal for most of her life, and was a pack rat, but in a REALLY good way. She took a lot of pictures, and wrote on the back of every one of them.


I have all of her journals, and plan on reading them. I'm hoping that I'll be able to learn even more about her, and maybe get a little insight into her relationship with my mother, which was also strained.


When my mother passed away, I called my uncle (her brother) to deliver the sad news... he told Nana, and I think she was devastated. I wanted to come see her, but she wouldn't have it- instead she wrote to me, saying we were distant relatives at best- I had not seen her since my grandfather had died 6 years prior. Over the last year, I really wanted to see her- to try and at least reconnect with her and hopefully repair some of the damage caused by my mother and their strained relationship. But I was constantly rebuffed by my uncle, telling me it wasn't a good idea. I should have gone anyway.


Nan lasted a year past my mother, then decided she was done. For a 93 year old, she was in good health. Heart , lungs, organs... all fine. She literally decided she was done living and decided to shut down.


When my Uncle called to tell me that Nan was fading, I got in the car and drove to Pittsburgh. I loved her, and wanted to tell her so, face to face. It was the hardest thing I've ever had to do. I always new my Nana to be feisty, sharp, and full of life- the woman I saw was frail, and a shell of the woman I knew. The hospice nurses had given her morphine, and so she was in a fog when I came to her. The next day, she was really agitated, and calling for her husband and her mother. I got to talk to her a little- I told her I loved her, and thought about her often, to which she replied, "no, you don't." I said I did, despite her being her, as I loved my own mother. She calmed down, and held my hand, and I got to say all of the things I needed to say. I can honestly say it's helped me cope with her passing, knowing that I got to have some closure, which I didn't get with mom.


And I learned something else... Nana died on the same date (and almost the exact time) as my Pop. That woman had a plan, right down to the end.


I hope that wherever she is now, that she and my mother have forgiven each other. That they have regret, and love.

Catching up...

Well, I can safely say that the whole "take a picture every day and blog about it thing" didn't really work out for 2009...
But I can catch you up in a nutshell:
Spring went by in a rush, followed by a very busy summer with work, life, etc. I worked at the LPGA (which is a true ass kicker) and several other work related events over the summer... fall went by in a flash, and then... December.


The beginning of the month was a blur... every department in Wegmans had their holiday party (which we hosted at the conference facility), and Chris was opening the much anticipated Next Door Bar and Grill (December 11).


Opening came and went, and the restaurant was crazy busy... restaurant and gift certificate sales went through the roof, and you couldn't get a reservation to save your life. I went over to help sell gift certificates, along with other members of my team, because we were winding down with parties and wanted to help out in any way we could.


December 17th... I was at the restaurant helping out... it was about 2:00 in the afternoon, and Chris comes up to me and tells me he had to talk to me in private. His tone and body language made me think there was trouble, but I was in no way prepared for the news he was about to lay on me: That my mother had passed away. My world stopped- time stopped- I couldn't hear him or understand him. We stood there in the office and I went completely numb. That moment is imprinted on me in the same way the Shuttle did when it blew up, or when the Towers fell... I will remember every millisecond in excruciating detail for the rest of my life. 


On December 15th, sometime in the early evening, she had just gotten finished cooking dinner, when she literally dropped to the floor, either from an aneurysm or massive heart attack. She was alone, her cell phone still on the counter above her. It would be two days before her ex-husband #2 found her (they had made plans to get together, and when she didn't return his phone calls, he went by to check on her). The coroner said she wouldn't have felt any pain.

Let me tell you a few things about my mother...

Like a lot of women I know, the relationship I had with my mother was strained at best- it wasn't the picture of warm and fuzzy. Our phone conversations mostly gravitated towards how broke she was, and how it was my daughterly duty to buy her a house, or a car, or pay off her credit cards, etc. On Mother's Day, she told me that I was the mother and she was the child, and how it was my job to take care of her. The last time I physically saw her was July 2009, where we sat in uncomfortable silence eating lunch, and I was counting the minutes until I leave to meet up with friends. The last time I saw my mother alive, she was standing in front of her house, tears in her eyes, as I was pulling away. 

I am the same age now as my mother was when she left my dad for the guy my dad hired to do yard work for her, because he felt that she needed help, and he was away a lot on business trips. That man (if you can call him that) would come to be the bane of my existence, and a wedge that would drive my mother and I apart forever.  I have always been critical of her life choices, and have held them against her for as long as I can remember, but now that she's gone, none of that seems important. We can get into the gory details at a later time.

My mother's mother (my Nana) is still alive, and I guess I had it in my head that my own mother would be around as long as she is... I still find myself dialing her number from time to time, feeling guilty about not having spoken to her in a while. My hope is that I can finally come to grips with her death, and learn to love and appreciate her as my mother, not as the pain in the ass financial and mental drain that I had considered her to be for so long.

my mom, sister and me, taken May of 2007

My point in writing all of this, is that her passing was a huge wake up call for me, on more levels than I can count. Firstly, I have this overwhelming desire to write- and to continue this blog. My goal is still the same: to give you a 365 degree view of me, but I will use the lessons I have learned and try to be as honest as I can. I will still use photography as a vehicle to demonstrate who I am, what I'm feeling, etc., and I hope that in reading this, you will learn a little more about me.

March 29

This is Gigi- named for Gucci. She belongs to my dad and Susan, and is probably the biggest love whore you've ever met. She literally lives to lounge on anyone who will have her. Her sister's name is Coco (for Chanel, of course) and is a little more independent.