Dear Readers,
I know in the last post I promised a reflective of my husband (LOVE IT!) and my trip to Snugatuck. However, I realize that if I keep re-capping, I will never move forward so I am going to take a break from the re-cap (after one whole blog) and update you on some of our most recent activities.
Since arriving in Oakland on Friday, the four of us have been totally beat. My incredible enthusiasm and natural drive to "nest" is really the only thing keeping me going, and Brendan has even less motivation, and more exhaustion. Gatsby really captured this feeling the best when this morning, I walked in on him in his "bedroom" (our walk-in closet) and found that he had attempted to get out of bed, but apparently passed out while standing up leaving his back paws still in the bed and elevated above his head, while his head and front paws were stretched onward in the walking motion. "I know how you feel cat," I thought aloud. Suffice it to say, we have not been very adventurous as of late. However, armed with gift cards from friends, relatives, and other well-wishers, and the realization that even after my belongings arrive we are running pretty low on furniture, we decided to take a drive to the Target in Berkeley, where we managed to do a decent amount of damage purchasing a set of "everyday" dinner and salad plates, a leather Parson's chair (Not Talcott, Daniel (we wanted 2 Parsons chairs for our bar, but they only had one in stock)), and a few other odds and ends that we desperately needed. It was our goal to make a pit-stop at Target, and Walgreen's before voyaging out to the Ferry Terminal at the Embarcadero, but when we got to the home and garden section of Target, we were simultaneously overcome with malaise. It was all we could do to walk, and we promptly cancelled our afternoon plans, and even our return trip to Walgreens. Instead, we made a bee-line home threw the chair next to the bar, and took our places sprawled out on the bed.
Meanwhile, we felt guilty for not taking advantage of the beautiful day. I know that I live in Oakland, California, and beautiful days are not hard to come by, but I just feel like it is a sin to pass up an opportunity to venture into San Francisco. We realize we are incredibly lucky to live in, what is by all accounts, paradise, and I can't quit my tourist mentality that I need to soak it all in before I must return home. Therefore, after chiding ourselves for being lazy, we vowed to make-up for it on Sunday with brunch at Ma Ma's. This, of course, was seconds before I realized Sunday was Mother's Day, and MaMa's and most any other restaurant in the Bay Area would be packed. We had resided ourselves to a lunch of peanut butter and jelly, but when the morning sun hit us, we knew we were going to have to do it--long line or no long line. Scrapping our first choice (a place called Ma Ma's is bound to be packed). we decided to go to our favorite Hog Island Oyster Company. Our wedding cake decorator (we share her with Martha Steward--no joke) Wendy Kromer tipped us off to their sinful grilled cheese decked out with an organic (but of course) sampling from the Cowgirl Creamery next door. After waiting in a surprisingly short line, we took our seats overlooking the bay and ordered Oysters Rockefeller, clam chowder, and of course our little sandwich with the intention of sharing it all. So adorable, I know :)
Our fresh bread and sweet cream butter was served promptly, and I made the all-too-frequent mistake of indulging too much. Little did I know that my stomach would need to be at full capacity to enjoy all that is Hog Island clam chowder. The oysters, served as an excellent introduction for what was to come next: the soup. Soup. I don't even know if this masterpiece qualifies as soup. It certainly cannot be compared to the canned stuff that lines grocery stores everywhere, and was certainly unlike anything I had ever experienced before. Because we have never been privy to clam chowder at HI, we were wrongfully expecting a small bowl of chewy clam chunks floating in a sea of thin white broth. Instead, we got a heaping bowl of thick stew-like cream, butter, and bacon thoroughly decorated with whole oysters that only hours earlier were in the very ocean our cozy seats overlooked. There in their shells, these succulent sea-creatures were waiting to be plucked from their little caves and devoured to our gastronomic delight.
Certainly, there was no way I could have predicted the chowder. My small mind is simply not capable of it's magnificence. So when ordering, I made the mistake of taking ownership of the sandwich (my tried and true) which was placed before me. The bowl of steaming goodness found a home in front of Brendan. Trying to speed the process of getting the soup into my stomach, I judiciously removed half of the sandwich from my plate and placed it in front of Brendan, waiting eagerly for what was owed. He, of course, being the more savvy of the two, plunged his spoon purposely into his bounty. Because soup is, by nature, difficult to share, and because no person in her/his right mind would part with a morsel of this particular clam chowder, I knew I would be left to fend for myself. When we raised his spoon to his lips I would launch my sandwich into the broth, and carefully return it to my mouth trying desperately not to lose a drop to the table. (Who am I kidding? It would not have been lost, I just preferred not to have to lick food from the table in public.) Forgetting my recent promise to follow a Kosher diet because it just makes good sense. I began removing entire clams and placing them on my plate along with bacon and cheese, sopping up their juice with my crust of bread. Indeed, this was the best clam chowder ever created--no apologies to my East Coast counterparts who loudly that you can truly only enjoy clam chowder in the New England States. It was perfection. The culinary cure to what ales you. Happiness in a bowl.
Sadly, one can only eat so much cream, butter, and bacon before feeling full, and even with both of us trying our best, we left pieces of sandwich and drops of broth uneaten in the bowl, before both agreeing it was time to throw in the towel. When Brendan finally emerged from his food coma, he announced confidently, "This was the best meal I have ever eaten." Now, I am not one to make sweeping statements, so I quickly searched the files of my brain and realized I would be forced to agree. "It's right up there.." I allowed. Sure, Hog Island does not have the panache of some of the finer restaurants I have dined in. Unlike Kraft, in New York, the waiters are not donning suits. Nor will they tell you about their wine selection. Instead the heavily inked staff wears t-shirts, jeans, and whatever shoes will enable them to run quickly enough to keep up with their customers demands. The open oyster bar allows you to watch the chefs shell the oysters and stew them in large silver pots, the clanging of which can make it difficult to engage in conversation, but it doesn't matter. I guarantee that while dining at HI your mouth will be so stuffed, and your heart so satisfied that you will barely have the strength to release a buzz of "mmmm" from your lips--but you will.
After leaving HI, we quickly had to shelve our plans to walk around the city. We were finished. There was nothing more to see. Instead we weaved through about 50 girl scouts and found ourselves back on the BART, where we were entertained by one of the most creative (if not the craziest) BART-freak I had ever seen, but I will spare you the details, dear reader.
After we returned, we retired to our bedroom where we finished watching a couple of movies, and snugged off our heavy meal. Later, I made an attempt at cleaning and putting away more presents. I promised to write thank you cards, I still have only managed to eek out a few. There is just so much to say! It takes me a long time, and we planned the next day's events. This morning I was awoken by the scratching of one very, very naughty cat on our bedroom door. I offered him his food, and was left alone for another couple of hours before he returned. Finally, Brendan was able to scare him off. I did not wake again until Brendan kissed me squarely on the head and re-tucked me in on his way to work. A couple of hours later I turned on the television to find that The Price is Right comes on at 10 here. Weird. A contestant won both showcases, which seemed like a good omen. I took it as a sign that I should travel out on my own today. I needed to got to Trader Joe's to get groceries for dinner, and the only way was to go it alone.
Brendan came home for lunch, and we went over the BART maps one last time before I set-off. I only had one minor snafu finding the train before I was on my way. Once I arrived to the Rockridge station I felt overwhelmed with pride and happiness. Not only did I make it there on my own, the "there" was paradise. I wandered through some various European-esque boutiques, and a couple of re-sale shops where I narrowly avoided purchasing any of the overpriced adornments, and finally made my way to TJ's. After buying about twice as much as I set out to, I paid my bill and headed home. No snafus. I managed the BART all on my own.
So, all in all, I have to say it was a really great day. I got to spend quality time with the hubs, and accomplish most of my to-do list. Now, back to more thank yous, or just drifting off under the covers...
Monday, May 11, 2009
Saturday, May 9, 2009
The Newly Minted Mrs. Rooney
Once again, I feel motivated to start a blog, because it seems like the best way to put my tendency to think in the third-person to use. Hopefully, it will also sate my family's needs to keep up with me while we try to schedule phone calls between PCT and EST, a time change that has been a hard adjustment, but I must admit there is something VERY satisfying about starting your day at 7:30 on a Saturday. I just need to try to stay up past 8pm--or maybe not.
Now for those of you playing at home, you probably realize that today, Brendan and I celebrated our 1 week anniversary of marriage. I have no wisdom to depart on you, yet, but I can say that being married has already been the most satisfying and exhausting experience of my life. Of course, that is probably not so much the marriage as it was the wedding, the honeymoon, and the cross-country move, but I digress. Yes, Brendan and I have embarked on quite the whirlwind since saying, "I do", and ordinarily, I would find this all very stressful, but there is something singular and unique about being accompanied by the love of your life when enduring physical struggles that makes it all worth it. Hopefully, this is not just the novelty of marriage, but our enduring love that has made our trip so rewarding (please try to refrain from gagging--it only gets more sappy as you go along). At any rate, instead of trying to describe it, I am going to try and re-cap the events from memory.
One week ago, Brendan and I got married at Stetson Chapel at Kalamazoo College in front of 100 of the people we love the most in life. After months of planning, worrying, and of course obsessively compulsing, we were standing there, hand-in-hand smiling like fools. I just kept thinking "I can't believe we pulled this whole thing off," and of course scolding myself (as I often do) for worrying so much about inane details. In the end, our plan to "under do it" as far as decorations and complications go, proved perfect. We enjoyed a day full beauty and happiness with plenty of apple blossoms, architecture, food, music, people we loved, and the three most adorable well-behaved children in the history of matrimony. Yes, those of us who warned that having a 2 year old flower girl, and a couple of seven year-olds as ring/bearers/flower girls. Were speechless when the kids sauntered the aisle like pro's. Especially when said 7 year-old ring bearer (and my cousin) Ian belted out the sweetest, most heartfelt adaptation of "Everyday" by Buddy Holly-ever heard. I was even more wildly impressed when I heard that he re-wrote the final chords himself. Best of all, he performed without a microphone. Such a charmer! I am not sad to say that he stole the show, and rightfully so. Soon, for those of you who wish to see the event, but could not attend, or just want to relive the fabulous memories, I will be posting pictures online. Sorry for the delay, but as you will read, I am too busy being exhausted and re-playing the events in my mind.
So, after an incredibly satisfying day, that could not have been pulled-off without the help of our extremely supportive bridal (and groomal(?)) party--we retired to our honeymoon suite at the Radisson, where you would be correct in assuming we did not get much sleep. The newly minted Mr. and Mrs. Rooney met my parents and brother for breakfast at the Sol World Cafe, where I declared my honeymoon my week to gorge. I figured since I had been denying myself the luxury of good food before the wedding, I would make-up for it afterwards. Okay, truth be told, I did not do much denying. I was not one of those girls that buys their dress a size or two too small with the plan of doing turbo jam and shots of wheat grass for two months preceding the big day. Instead I started working out with my PT about 8 hours a week, treading water, and increasing my peanut butter intake. I also developed a love for baking, and eating said baked goods, once again, I digress as this is not essential information. But then again, is anything in a social blog really essential?--Now how do I get this off italics? Like most people warned, Brendan and I really didn't get a chance to eat much the at the reception. We were constricted by our clothing and trying to be welcoming hosts for 100 guests, while sitting on display and kissing each time we were prompted by the sound of sterling against crystal. (Sorry, but italics will randomly appear from here out since I seemingly have no control over it). What was most depressing, was that I did not even get a taste of the pistachio cake I chose! I know--it's horrible. The crepes went a long way in making up for it though.
After our misty goodbyes, we hit the road but we didn't make it very far without realizing my mother had the entire contents of my wallet and we had to turn back. Practicing the patience of Job (the patience one can only maintain during the first few, most sacred, hours of marriage) Brendan and I returned to Kzoo to meet my parents before continuing North up 131 to Traverse City where we stayed at The Wellington Inn Although we regretted the planning that had us driving 4 hours the day after our wedding, the Inn did not disappoint. We were the only guests staying at the Mansion that night (another family was in one of the cottage houses) so we were upgraded from the cheapest/most lackluster room in the home to the honeymoon suite. Much to my delight it included a jetted whirlpool--the perfect solution to a post wedding backache. What I loved most about the home was that it was filled with original antiques from the 1800's. Since we were the only people staying we also had the joy of perusing what seamed like endless rooms, each brimming with tchotchkis and ornate furniture from the late 1800s. Though Brendan was admittedly "antiqued out", I could have easily stayed for a few more days--spending time in each room.
Because Bed and Breakfasts, by definition, only serve breakfasts, that night we ventured to Traverse City's historic downtown area were we enjoyed dinner at Bubba's where I offset my sins by ordering a large salad (who am I kidding? With all the nuts, avocado, dressing, and cheese, I packed in more calories than a whopper value meal!). Then we slowly wandered back to the Inn where we had the option of munching on generic treats like bite-sized "100 Grand Bars" and Costco Cappuccino. No, the food did not delight, especially when compared to our next night's stay in Saugatuck (heretofore referred to as Snugatuck). In fact, we were so primed for these Legendary breakfasts, we did not recognize them when they were served to us. Then we quickly realized that the breakfasts were, in fact, legend because almost no one had eaten them. Since they are only served to guests at the Inn, which are few in this current economic climate. Most of what is known locally about the food, is from word of mouth. Falsehoods were apparently spread by overly generous visitors and the proprietor herself, who was pleased as punch by her generally sour but otherwise tasteless blueberry pancakes and tough chicken sausage. Worst of all, for a woman who prides herself on being able to cater to guests with all sorts of allergies and aversions (the woman we were joined by had a laundry list of food allergies, which were actually sensitivities, that were linked to migraines), served us perfectly luscious strawberries that were unnecessarily drowned in aspartame impregnated yogurt. Of course, because I have an embarrassingly high intake of diet coke, I cannot complain about being poisoned by artificial sweetener, but I can say lime "light and lively" does not a five star breakfast make.
After retrieving our things (they have an 11 o'clock checkout, which is early B&B standards) we ventured back down to the bay where we took pictures and pondered our next move. The one that would lead us to the enchanted city of Snugatuck, which I will tell you all about in my next blog. I can almost feel your virtual interest waiting, and I am compelled to retire to the bedroom where I will snuggle in bed next to my husband and watch "Bride Wars". It's a good life.
Good night all!
Love, Jude-y Rooney
Now for those of you playing at home, you probably realize that today, Brendan and I celebrated our 1 week anniversary of marriage. I have no wisdom to depart on you, yet, but I can say that being married has already been the most satisfying and exhausting experience of my life. Of course, that is probably not so much the marriage as it was the wedding, the honeymoon, and the cross-country move, but I digress. Yes, Brendan and I have embarked on quite the whirlwind since saying, "I do", and ordinarily, I would find this all very stressful, but there is something singular and unique about being accompanied by the love of your life when enduring physical struggles that makes it all worth it. Hopefully, this is not just the novelty of marriage, but our enduring love that has made our trip so rewarding (please try to refrain from gagging--it only gets more sappy as you go along). At any rate, instead of trying to describe it, I am going to try and re-cap the events from memory.
One week ago, Brendan and I got married at Stetson Chapel at Kalamazoo College in front of 100 of the people we love the most in life. After months of planning, worrying, and of course obsessively compulsing, we were standing there, hand-in-hand smiling like fools. I just kept thinking "I can't believe we pulled this whole thing off," and of course scolding myself (as I often do) for worrying so much about inane details. In the end, our plan to "under do it" as far as decorations and complications go, proved perfect. We enjoyed a day full beauty and happiness with plenty of apple blossoms, architecture, food, music, people we loved, and the three most adorable well-behaved children in the history of matrimony. Yes, those of us who warned that having a 2 year old flower girl, and a couple of seven year-olds as ring/bearers/flower girls. Were speechless when the kids sauntered the aisle like pro's. Especially when said 7 year-old ring bearer (and my cousin) Ian belted out the sweetest, most heartfelt adaptation of "Everyday" by Buddy Holly-ever heard. I was even more wildly impressed when I heard that he re-wrote the final chords himself. Best of all, he performed without a microphone. Such a charmer! I am not sad to say that he stole the show, and rightfully so. Soon, for those of you who wish to see the event, but could not attend, or just want to relive the fabulous memories, I will be posting pictures online. Sorry for the delay, but as you will read, I am too busy being exhausted and re-playing the events in my mind.
So, after an incredibly satisfying day, that could not have been pulled-off without the help of our extremely supportive bridal (and groomal(?)) party--we retired to our honeymoon suite at the Radisson, where you would be correct in assuming we did not get much sleep. The newly minted Mr. and Mrs. Rooney met my parents and brother for breakfast at the Sol World Cafe, where I declared my honeymoon my week to gorge. I figured since I had been denying myself the luxury of good food before the wedding, I would make-up for it afterwards. Okay, truth be told, I did not do much denying. I was not one of those girls that buys their dress a size or two too small with the plan of doing turbo jam and shots of wheat grass for two months preceding the big day. Instead I started working out with my PT about 8 hours a week, treading water, and increasing my peanut butter intake. I also developed a love for baking, and eating said baked goods, once again, I digress as this is not essential information. But then again, is anything in a social blog really essential?--Now how do I get this off italics? Like most people warned, Brendan and I really didn't get a chance to eat much the at the reception. We were constricted by our clothing and trying to be welcoming hosts for 100 guests, while sitting on display and kissing each time we were prompted by the sound of sterling against crystal. (Sorry, but italics will randomly appear from here out since I seemingly have no control over it). What was most depressing, was that I did not even get a taste of the pistachio cake I chose! I know--it's horrible. The crepes went a long way in making up for it though.
After our misty goodbyes, we hit the road but we didn't make it very far without realizing my mother had the entire contents of my wallet and we had to turn back. Practicing the patience of Job (the patience one can only maintain during the first few, most sacred, hours of marriage) Brendan and I returned to Kzoo to meet my parents before continuing North up 131 to Traverse City where we stayed at The Wellington Inn Although we regretted the planning that had us driving 4 hours the day after our wedding, the Inn did not disappoint. We were the only guests staying at the Mansion that night (another family was in one of the cottage houses) so we were upgraded from the cheapest/most lackluster room in the home to the honeymoon suite. Much to my delight it included a jetted whirlpool--the perfect solution to a post wedding backache. What I loved most about the home was that it was filled with original antiques from the 1800's. Since we were the only people staying we also had the joy of perusing what seamed like endless rooms, each brimming with tchotchkis and ornate furniture from the late 1800s. Though Brendan was admittedly "antiqued out", I could have easily stayed for a few more days--spending time in each room.
Because Bed and Breakfasts, by definition, only serve breakfasts, that night we ventured to Traverse City's historic downtown area were we enjoyed dinner at Bubba's where I offset my sins by ordering a large salad (who am I kidding? With all the nuts, avocado, dressing, and cheese, I packed in more calories than a whopper value meal!). Then we slowly wandered back to the Inn where we had the option of munching on generic treats like bite-sized "100 Grand Bars" and Costco Cappuccino. No, the food did not delight, especially when compared to our next night's stay in Saugatuck (heretofore referred to as Snugatuck). In fact, we were so primed for these Legendary breakfasts, we did not recognize them when they were served to us. Then we quickly realized that the breakfasts were, in fact, legend because almost no one had eaten them. Since they are only served to guests at the Inn, which are few in this current economic climate. Most of what is known locally about the food, is from word of mouth. Falsehoods were apparently spread by overly generous visitors and the proprietor herself, who was pleased as punch by her generally sour but otherwise tasteless blueberry pancakes and tough chicken sausage. Worst of all, for a woman who prides herself on being able to cater to guests with all sorts of allergies and aversions (the woman we were joined by had a laundry list of food allergies, which were actually sensitivities, that were linked to migraines), served us perfectly luscious strawberries that were unnecessarily drowned in aspartame impregnated yogurt. Of course, because I have an embarrassingly high intake of diet coke, I cannot complain about being poisoned by artificial sweetener, but I can say lime "light and lively" does not a five star breakfast make.
After retrieving our things (they have an 11 o'clock checkout, which is early B&B standards) we ventured back down to the bay where we took pictures and pondered our next move. The one that would lead us to the enchanted city of Snugatuck, which I will tell you all about in my next blog. I can almost feel your virtual interest waiting, and I am compelled to retire to the bedroom where I will snuggle in bed next to my husband and watch "Bride Wars". It's a good life.
Good night all!
Love, Jude-y Rooney
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