As far as a day off is concerned, today has been pretty close to perfect. I say this from a laptop that sits on a table that I had to sniper-grab at Starbucks because apparently everyone else did what I did this morning: drug up and skip work to wander the City aimlessly because all the sitting-still from last night drove them bonkers, and if they have to spend another thirty seconds looking at the four walls of their bedroom THEY WILL SCREAM AND DIE.

So, uh… yes. I had a migraine last night. And I went home and quarantined myself in bed from 4:30-7:30 (three STRAIGHT HOURS) until Jimi got there, and then it wasn’t quite so torturous to lay in bed and ignore my Blackberry. But for those three hours? I needed pretzels and an arsenal of Chick Flicks to keep me sitting still. I, as it turns out, am not just a restless sun-bather, library-goer, sale-shopper and line-waiter… I also can’t sit still on bed even if I feel like the swamp monster. (Or, as I was told last night, the Giant-Sized Man-Thing, which is only marginally different from a swamp monster.)

That said, I still have rampant amounts of Motrin keeping me nice and human-y feeling, and fully intend to do little more than sit here at my sniped table for another hour or so when Jimi comes to take me to supper.

And why are we going to supper?, you’re probably asking yourself. Well, because he’s sick of me making pasta in the apartment and telling him that it counts as cooking. Oh, I jest. Everyone knows it doesn’t count as cooking. No. We’re going to supper at Otto (yes, I know, MY FAVE!) because I got official word today from Jacob that I’ve been selected for Boston’s VOR Project, and it’s been all I can do not to tell EVERYONE WHO HAS EARS how excited I am. I even ambled up to SoHo after lunch and Sephora with Chy this morning to tell Richie how thrilled I was, and it may or may not have involved hand gestures so large that it was marginally embarrassing for him to be seen with me in public. Luckily he was on lunch at SubWay, so it wasn’t a big deal.

So then Richie told Nick (because where else would I go on my day off from PUMA? Tretorn, of course) and it was congratulations all around. And, I know I say all the time that PUMA is one of the best companies to work for, hands-down, but I have to say that in staffing the New York stores, they’ve done an exceptionally great job of selecting amazing people for their teams. No catty jealously. No malice or ill-will. It really does feel like a team effort. And if you can find that in your workplace and have it span several stores’ worth of staffs… Well, it’s just another reason I consider myself one of the luckiest people I know.

That and my bitchin’ shoe collection.

Beyond that, my day was not very eventful. Lots of catching up with friends in low-key situations, several cups of tea (because I am now trying to be healthier, as I’d like to get my Athlete Body back before I head to Boston), and a nice slow day of ambling from favorite-place to favorite-place.

One supper with my favorite person and a good night of sleep and I’m pretty sure my brain will consider itself fully-healed, and I won’t have to take a horse tranquilizer to rally the energy to get to work tomorrow. (Must admit, was very hard to coax sore, mangled body out of bed this morning.) Now, if I could just get the knots in my neck to loosen up a bit…

Dad is going to pop down to the city to meet The Boyfriend and eat Bubba Gump’s (something from which I try to dissuade him every time he comes, and fail parlessly). This was at Jimi’s request– something about wanting to meet my father before we get a place together (in June, which, no, I do not think is too soon, and if you do, I kindly thank you to keep it to yourself, as “unsolicited advice” is one of those things I’ll tell you to stick “somewhere unpleasant”). And kudos to him! After the circumstances under which he met my mother, I’m impressed he’s even interested in the Other Parent Responsible For Me. Or maybe he’s just trying to fill in the gaps.

As if a weekend away with me wasn’t telling enough. And for anyone interested, Vermont IS GREAT, but is also VERY ORGANIC. And yes, I spent a whole day DOING NOTHING and didn’t get restless once. I did nap once, though. And I’m still going to put the Magic Hat tour in its own post, once I get around to taking the photographs off my camera, which I foresee happening sometime in early August. (Kristin is writhing in her chair right now because she’s still waiting on photos I took with her in December. I’m rushing as much as I can to get them to her. She should get them around March.) What can I say? When it comes to (the 300) photos (still on my camera spanning the past seven months) I am kind of a jerk. Who can never seem to find the right cable to upload anything.

And my other computer being broken is a lovely excuse not to do anything productive electronically. The only bummer is that I’m SO FAR BEHIND in Grey’s Anatomy. (Three episodes!… I don’t know how I’m still alive, either.)

On that note, within the next several weeks, there will be lots of exciting information being posted here, about Boston, and about Other Super Secret Stuff. But for now. This is all you get.

More soon. Promise.

xo

-MM

Today is day 2 of the *amazing* Vermont vacation that I’m taking with Awesome Boyfriend and let me tell you. If you’ve ever had a craving for long stretches of silence, good beer, organic EVERYTHING and absolutely no  lifeforms resemblant of insects… Vermont in mid-January is the place for you.

Jimi knocked my skeptical little socks off by booking what has to be the neatest B&B S. Willard Street has to offer (and if you think that’s nothing, you should see all the B&Bs S. Willard Street has to offer) and we’ve essentially gorged ourselves on low-sugar, organic vegan maple-products
since arrival. I made a fun new video website for everyone to check out here, where you can find snippets of all our smarmy adventures (including one amazing 30-second clip of Jimi. Asleep. Tee hee).

I’ve kept the Blackberry on silent and in the pocket for most of the trip, so if Manhattan has burned down in my absence (which I have to secretly assume it has, or else you’d all be texting me), I am none the wiser. Beyond the eating and the more eating and the exploring, we’ve really only effectively made it to the Magic Hat brewery, and spent a baffling couple of hours strolling* through downtown Burlington**.

*’Strolling’ being a loosely applied metaphor for “shuffling while clinging to each others’ arms for support while trying to navigate the ice-luge sidewalks in the face of all that evil wind.”

**’downtown Burlington’ being a loosely applied metaphor for “the two square blocks the local Sidewalk Sweeper bothered to sweep off with his badass John Deere whirly-brush lawnmower attachment.”

And despite the lack of life outdoors (due to the negative double digit temperatures when the sun is not up — roughly 4pm-9am)
the locals seem to be alive, well and very friendly. One particularly geriatric man, out of nowhere, walking down the sidewalk, wished us a good day. Just smiled and happily related a warm sentiment of well-being and joy.

Jimi and I, of course, smiled back and then immediately turned to one another (the man may or may not have been out of earshot) and we were all HAVE WE STUMBLED INTO THE TWILIGHT ZONE?

We decided we must have, and were so preoccupied that we wandered right into a crosswalk when it was not actually our turn to cross. This had happened once before in the morning and do you know what Vermont drivers do when careless pedestrians just stroll into their immediate line of motion? Do you?

Manhattanites everywhere are clutching the arms of their computer chairs in terror, because in their frame of reference, the pedestrians DIE almost immediately after posing a question like this. But lo! In Vermont? The drivers? THEY STOP. They stop their soy-fueled, solar-charged hybrid Subarus laden with Yoga mats and kayaking fixtures vehicles (completely, as in cease all motion) and with a smile and a nod, they wave the lost New Yorkers across the street safely. Wouldn’t want to run the rabid meat-eaters over.

Everyone here is charming, and rosy-cheeked, and hasn’t eaten regular Mayonnaise in over a decade, easily. Everything here really is home-grown, completely organic and probably the reason why my body is now purging all the evil awfulness that has accrued in my innards out through my pores. Oh, vacation. How I love you.

Magic Hat Brewery was *awesome*– Awesome enough to earn its own blog post later on, complete with photographs and a video of Jimi completely losing his shit over how great the production floor is. Beyond that, there has been much time spent comatose. And eating. Did I mention the food here is pretty great, even if it is health-food?

The only other remarkable thing I’m finding — and Very Cool Susan who we met at Magic Hat and then ran into again later at our B&B, because the Vermont Universe is as small and as ironic as the ‘Stota Universe, corroborated my theory– all the women here do Yoga (and so their thighs are so skinny that they don’t even touch AT THE TOP) and none of them wear makeup.

Yes. I am completely serious. It’s like falling down the rabbit-hole. Except, creepier. More relaxing. And with better bacon.

–MM