Readers’ Memories: Week 3

This week I have 2 amazing readers’ memories to share with you all—thank you so much for sharing ladies (and thanks Tara for the first love story of the month, I loooove a good love story).

Favorite memory from Tara Mazzeo of Fort Lauderdale, Florida: “La Pura Vida”

In the spring of 2006 I set off on a journey with a dear friend of mine.

It was one of those “take a time-out from your life” kind of adventures and I was in desperate need of it. You see, my life was a constant state of Chaos and I was over it. So I decided that I was going to allow myself to hit the coveted snooze button and go on a treasure hunt for that shiny gem known as Clarity.

Our plane touched down, we de-boarded and there we were…Paradise had been found! We made it to the lush, tropical, untouched purity of Costa Rica.

I could feel a shift as soon as my feet landed on the tarmac. I shed some layers of clothing (it was cooking hot) and though I didn’t know it yet, I also shed some of those pesky inhibitions that were cramping my Spirit’s style.

The first few days were spent lounging, reading, swimming, sunning and detoxing the stressors I left at home.  The cotton candy sunsets, bold iguanas and howling howler monkeys took residence where the sights and sounds of city living once did.

Before I knew it relaxation had set in and running in tandem with it was the weekend.

My girlfriend and I decided to head out on the “town”. Now, by “town” I mean tiny little surf town on the edge of the Costa Rican jungle, of which you navigate by dirt roads and big smiles.

It was this night, in this town, backlit by stardust that I never knew to exist, that I met him.

Our paths crossed in a manner that only makes sense if you never question it. We fell into a state of normalcy that would historically have taken me aback. Lucky for me, I had just excavated a state of mind akin to blissful relaxation, so I decided to be Zen and just roll with it.

My mantra was something along the lines of “Tara, be Zen, roll with it, don’t question the magic and be sure to call the airlines and extend your stay”.

(FYI:  My mantra was a success.)

It was a whirlwind romance that made all the sense in the world. The only issue was…I was a world away.

My last morning in Costa Rica found my hiding spot. My two worlds were colliding.

He drove me back to my neglected hotel (and forgiving best friend) before the sun began to rise. We parked out front sharing a very long and hesitant farewell, filled with pleas and wishes by both of us that I could stay longer (maybe forever). But home and the chattering list of life obligations began to trickle into my Zen. The only words that found their way to my voice were the ones that said I couldn’t stay. I wanted to stay…but I couldn’t.

My heart and my soul slumped their shoulders in defeat. They were advocates of staying.

Before I could let him change my mind, I kissed him one last time, hopped out of the truck and bolted toward my room without daring myself to look back.

I flung the door open and my girlfriend greeted me with a look of shock and the following words: “I can NOT believe you are coming home!”.

My response was: “I can’t believe it either”.

I packed my bag in a fury. Within minutes there was a knock at the door. My heart jumped, my soul squealed in delight. I looked at my friend and said: “It looks like I’m staying after all!”.

Much to my dismay, it wasn’t him with one last request, it was our driver letting us know he was ready to begin our long journey back to the airport where this whole adventure began.

We tossed our bags in the car, gave our surroundings one last look and crawled into the backseat. My heart and my soul reassumed their disapproving positions. I sat back, closed my eyes and did my best to tell myself I was making the right choice. Soon, the gentle rocking of driving on unpaved roads had me drifting off to sleep.

It wasn’t long into the drive that I could feel the car begin to slow and then come to a stop. I slowly opened my eyes. The dirt roads illuminated by the rising sun created a magical, dusty curtain over the countryside. I whispered to my girlfriend asking her why we stopped. Her eyes widened and she told me to look ahead, through the windshield.

That’s when I saw it.

Standing there, in the middle of the road, was a white horse so grand, so pure, so dreamlike I could hardly believe it to be true. He stood there, looking at us, unafraid, unwavering and beautiful beyond words.

My girlfriend turned to me, she held my hand and she said: “Tara, what do you think he’s saying to you?”.

I would love to tell you I listened to his message that day, turned around, drove back to my love and stayed in that little casita on the edge of the Costa Rican jungle forevermore…but I can’t.

Instead, what I can tell you is that I did, in fact, find the clarity I was searching for on that adventure in Paradise. I can tell you, with certainty, that I was forever changed. I can tell you that I am engaged to marry that man and we plan to do so on the beach where we met in Costa Rica. Of course, I can also tell you that I believe in magical white horses who are messengers and reminders of the life you are meant to life.

:: Always from under the same sky ::

Tara

Photo from: www.andihatch.com

_________________________

Favorite memory from Alana Mairs of Vancouver, British Columbia

A few years ago, I spent a weekend on a tugboat. A docked tugboat, that is.

I found the tugboat on a vacation rental site. My friends and I wanted to get out of town and the tugboat was located just a short ferry ride from Vancouver.

A lazy Saturday afternoon. Scotch. Hazy sun. Friends sitting around a galley table shooting bottle caps back and forth. Time stands still.

I have photos of the hike we did to a bald patch of rock overlooking the ocean, and of us pretending to drive the tugboat, and of the little town itself, but none of them quite capture the feeling of peace I remember when I look at this photo:

You can read more about Alana’s tugboat adventure here

Memory #10: Stash Sistahs

In the summer of 2009, I got laid off from my first “real” job after college and simultaneously decided to end the near decade-long relationship I had been in since I was teenager. Woah…

In the very beginning part of the “Holy Crap, What Just Happened To My Life” phase, I logged onto Facebook one morning (as any good unemployed person does) and saw a status update from my friend Jess Powers (my favorite farmgirl) that read: “Anyone have a few weeks to drive cross country with me?”. “Yep”, I replied, and within an hour I had bought myself a one-way plane ticket out to Portland, Oregon to meet her for our journey.

Although my friends and family were pretty sure I had literally lost my mind, I knew myself, and I knew that nothing would give me the clarity and space that I needed like a road trip would (18 hours a day in a car will whip you right back into shape, I swear). I needed a few weeks away, I needed a few weeks to think, and I needed a few weeks to let the dust settle—and really—a few weeks to breathe and just be. 

So, in the late Summer of 2009, Jess and I departed from Portland, OR and camped our way across the United States until we crossed the Sagamore Bridge back home to Cape Cod, MA. On our way across, we stopped in at a Labor Day rodeo in Helmville, Montana, took in the beauty and splendor of Yellowstone National Park, camped under the stars in the Badlands, realized we were cosmic sisters and reveled in the power of the universe—or “Uni” and we like to call it—at a campground in rural Minnesota, braved the eerie late-night roads of “Mistconsin”, rolled down the giant sand dunes of Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore, took in the natural wonder (and undeniable kitch) of Niagara Falls, and harped on every opportunity to take photographs of ourselves dressed as our alter egos, Ted and Danta (don’t ask), wearing fake mustaches at every national landmark that crossed our path. We were the “Stash Sistahs” and I’m forever indebted to Uni for bringing us together at a time when we both needed it most.

This one’s for you Stashy, xoxo always

A few stashy shots below and here’s a link to a previous blog post with scans of some my film photography from the trip that got amazingly distorted from sitting for 2 years in the heat of my 3rd floor bedroom:

Ted and Danta ready for action

Yellowstone

Yep, that’s Mt. Rushmore in the background

Sometimes we took the mustaches off…

Ol’ Niagara

Memory #9: Wanderlust, VT

Last June—through a magical chain of events that only the Universe could have lined up—lululemon decided to send me to Wanderlust Vermont, a 4-day yoga and music festival, to be their official blogger. Wait, you guys want to pay me to do yoga all day and write about it? Fine, twist my arm, I’ll go.

#hellodreamlife

For 4 days, I stayed in an amazingly outdated Swiss-style chalet filled to the brim with ladies of luon®, practiced more yoga than I knew was possible from some of the best teachers in the country, went on morning meditation hikes where Garth Stevenson serenaded us with his upright bass, drank kombucha from the tap (might I add, the best kombucha I’ve ever had), hit up the free hair-braiding station (every single day), and spent my evenings writing recaps of the day while drinking Wanderlust branded wine before heading out for the night’s musical entertainment. Wow. And did I mention that the weather was absolutely perfect and that I was getting paid? Yeah, I’d be depressed writing this if I hadn’t already bought my ticket for this year’s festival. One month from today I’ll be in Wanderworld, one of my favorite places of Earth…

Wanna know all the details? You can read my blog posts for lululemon here:

wanderlust vermont…live!
you know you’re at wanderlust when…
my so-called wanderlife
another day in wanderland
there’s no place like wanderlust

 

Morning meditation hike with Garth Stevenson

If only I could ever recreate this myself

The best kind of yoga studio

That time I saw Ziggy Marley

Readers’ Memories: Week 2

This week’s reader memory comes from Lee-Ann Dyke from Ontario, Canada: 

I am from a family with four children. Me being the oldest with two younger sisters and a younger brother. With four children, I’m sure my parents thought jet-setting family vacations were a little impractical, but they still made sure that we had something absolutely fun to look forward to every summer. We were from the city so cottaging was our thing! Every summer since the time I was about three or four, we would pick a cottage or resort and rent anywhere from one to four weeks at a time.

The first one we went to for a few years was called Elmhirst’s Resort in little Keene, Ontario. There was so much to do there! There was a dock, a fishing boat, the lake, and an indoor swimming pool with a sauna and hot tub. There was a petting zoo, a park, even a store where we were allowed to spend our allowance on treats!

It became a tradition for my sister and I to start planning our time there at least a week in advance. We would make lists and schedules just to make sure that we had every day planned and that we could fit it all in. On the first day, we’ll play on the teeter totter at 9am, swings at 10, fishing at 11—with hotdogs for bait. We planned every day like that and it was so exciting to finally get there and put our plans into place. It was a wonderful memory and I cherish those moments dearly.

The best part is that now my sister has two daughters of her own. They are 4 1/2 and 2 and had their first big family vacation this spring. My sister couldn’t wait to tell me how her oldest daughter was doing all the same things we did! She wanted to plan every day and rearrange the schedule over and over—just so excited to make sure—just like we did, that she fit it all in.

So the story is really about how two generations of memories can come together. My own that I cherish dearly, and my nieces’ as they are also wonderfully created, almost with the purpose of reminding us how special the moments are.

…Pool at 1:30?  :)

Got a favorite memory you’d like to share? The offer still stands, send your memories to 12monthsoflent@gmail.com

Memory #8: Zeno’s Pizza

Part of this memory is taken from a previous post, so apologies to those of you who have been reading my blog for a bit and remember reading the original.

I may look more like my Polish half, but I definitely get my taste buds from the Italian side (not to mention my taste for wine—or could that be from my Irish blood?). I absolutely love, love, love Italian food and have a special affinity for pizza in particular.

My relationship with pizza goes way back—back to before I was born and my dad, the best pizza chef I know, had dreams of opening up his own pizza shop to be called Zeno’s (you know, since Dzenawagis’ doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue). Although he went as far as purchasing the equipment and acquiring the recipes, apparently it wasn’t meant to be because things fell through at the last minute (on two separate occasions) when a term in the purchase and sales agreement wasn’t agreed to. This didn’t stop him from making pizza for the family though, and he did so often.

One of my favorite childhood memories will always be making—and of course, eating—Zeno’s pizza with my family (one of my other favorite memories is stealing all the cheese he grated when he wasn’t looking). And since I’m privy to all his pro-tips and secret tricks, it’s a tradition I plan to carry on with my own kids someday (someday in the far distant future, don’t get too excited Mum).

Thought it would be fitting to share a photo of my dad and I at “the fair”, since talking endlessly about it with me every night before bed was one of his favorite memories.

Memory #7: Y2K Mocktail Party

While the world was bracing for the Y2K technology meltdown (which ended up just being a massive case of hypochondria), I was planning my first epic New Year’s Eve party. In 1999, I was in my sophomore year of high school and knee-deep in my newest obsession: lounge and exotica music (Read: I was exclusively wearing leopard print and I had a 6′ tall fake palm tree in my bedroom that I would lay under while listening to Les Baxter on repeat. True story, I was a weird kid).

In this funny new counterculture world that lounge music introduced me to, I became fascinated with the idea of the cocktail party, and decided that I needed to have one of my own to ring in the new millenium. Since I was 15 and straight-edge at the time though, we dubbed it a “mocktail” party—which was fine by me.

On New Year’s Eve of 1999, all my besties and I gathered in my parents basement and had the best time ever. I don’t think anyone even noticed that there was no alcohol because we were having such a fun time wearing cute cocktail dresses, drinking fancy looking non-alcoholic drinks with little umbrellas, and listening to the Ultra-Lounge Leopard Skin Sampler on repeat. It was perfect.

Friends who were there: Anyone have any photos you wouldn’t mind sharing sharing? It appears I only have a few.

Memory #6: Summers on the Great Point

My summer job all through college was tending bar in the first class lounge on a 900-passenger ferry called the Great Point. For 11 hours a day, I served cocktails and cheese platters to tourists on their way from Hyannis to Nantucket and it was totally amazing—the absolute best summer job ever. I basically spent 5 glorious summers sailing the beautiful waters of Nantucket Sound, flirting with hot European deckhands who were on Cape to work for the summer, reading as many books as possible during the slow trips (one summer I polished off 19), and going to wild parties that the Irish kids threw at their house—there was always an Irish house and they always had the best parties. It was awesome.

There are way too many individual memories to write about, but I’ll share a few photos to paint the picture for you (although sadly, I don’t have any photos from before the summer of ’04, I don’t think I had a digital camera before then haha). To all my GP friends who might be reading this: I’d love for you to comment and tell me your favorite memories from the boat (this especially means you Kim Cameron).

My beloved Great Point

The door to the first class lounge. I may or may not have unscrewed that sign and taken it home with me on my last day of work. 

My home away from home

The GP crew in 2005

Party at the Irish house, summer of ’04

A rough morning after followed this night: Being hungover on a boat is about as fun as it sounds.

“Irish Tea Parties” with Marek, Jenny, and Cathal. Read: Drinking Whiskey from tea cups

Do this even need a caption?

Seriously, those were the days…

Readers’ Memories: Week 1

I’m very excited to share the first of my favorite memory posts from reader submissions, which I’ll be posting every Friday this month. The first 2 come from my 2 best friends from college: Jocelyn, my Italy buddy from Memory #2, and Amanda, my partner in karaoke crime. I love these 2 ladies to pieces and am so happy to still be close with them, and to have them share their favorite memories with me. I have to say too, I absolutely LOVED reading these stories (even the one that wasn’t about me, I swear), and it’s been amazing to have people share their favorite life memories with me. Keep ‘em comin’ everyone!

Favorite Memory from Jocelyn Gomes, Boston, MA: Oliver

Growing up, my family (along with much of our extended family) spent our summers at Camp Dennen, on Hedges Pond in Plymouth, Massachusetts. I have so many wonderful memories of summers spent swimming in the pond, hiking and collecting blueberries for pancakes, 4th of July field games, going to the Snack Bar at the “Rec” Center, camp-wide Pig Roasts, and rainbow campfires—my Ti Pat would throw a copper pipe covered with a piece of garden hose into the fire, and the flames would change color as the hose-covered pipe burned.

Two of the people that you would see every summer at Camp Dennen were Rick and Penny, along with their dog, Muffy. She was a white Shih Tzu, and one summer, when I was about 11, I found out that Muffy was expecting puppies. Unbeknownst to my parents, and being the precocious child I was, I asked Penny point-blank if I could have one of Muffy’s puppies. I remember being told that Shih Tzu litters are usually very small, maybe 2 or 3 puppies at most, and that Muffy’s puppies had already been promised to other people. But, if Muffy had more than 3 puppies, I could have one! As summer wound to a close, my family packed up, and headed back home. A new school year began, months went by, and my dream of having a dog began to fade.

I was not privy to what happened next; but, as my parents tell it, they received an out-of-the-blue phone call from Penny. Apparently, Muffy had a litter of 6 puppies (!) and she was calling to let my parents know that we could come pick one out! My parents were surprised (no doubt, as I had not told them of my previous conversation with Penny) but decided that maybe the time was right for us to get a dog. After all, I had gone to an awful lot of trouble to arrange this. However, what they told my brother and sisters and I was that we were only driving to Rick and Penny’s to visit Muffy and her puppies. One of my favorite memories, and probably one of the Top 5 Greatest Moments of My Life, is the moment my Dad turned to us, as we sat in Rick and Penny’s living room, each cuddling or playing with a puppy, and casually asked, “Which one are we going to take home?” I distinctly remember burrowing my face into the fur of the puppy that had cuddled itself around my neck, and bursting into tears. Not dainty childlike tears of joy. Sobs. I am tearing up now, just thinking about it! It was a completely perfect moment of childhood wish fulfillment.

The puppy I had been cuddling (and using to mop up my tears) came home with us that day. We named him Oliver, and we had 6 wonderful years with him.

This memory, in particular, is one of my favorites, because it’s not only the (awesome) story of the day my family got a dog. It is one example, among many, of how incredibly loving my parents were and are, every single day, and what a lucky kid I was.

Favorite Memory from Amanda Eckhardt, Providence, RI: Karaoke at Flann O’Briens

There are so many incredible memories that we’ve shared together—so many that it’s really, truly, incredibly difficult for me to choose just one! After all, we did spend our college years together…In the dorms we first lived down the hall from one another, then next door to each other, and then later, when we moved off campus we lived practically across the street from each other. Everyone knows that your friends during your college years become like your family away from home. Through mixed feelings of intense stress from school, maybe a little homesickness, and excitement you end up cementing really strong bonds with this new little family. With that said, not everyone goes to art school. You’d think that with the crazy mixed bag of friendly, awkward, art kid weirdos, that surely there would be plenty of potential kindred spirits hidden in the mix. And believe me, I love eccentricity. Truth be told, I’ve been magnetically drawn to characters my entire life. But after finding the twelfth Polaroid self portrait of your roommate with a fake bloody nose taped to your bathroom mirror after excusing yourself from yet another viewing of Hedwig and the Angry Inch next door, you find yourself nearly knocking that kid off his unicycle in the hallway as you run…Cue Danne Dzenawagis.

I think I probably knew from the moment I accidentally barged into your room that first semester, finding you blasting “Black Dog” by Led Zeppelin and drinking tea on your couch at midnight on a Friday. If not then, I DEFINITELY knew by the time we were begging our way into DDD’s under age just to watch karaoke (OK and maybe sneak a beer or two in the bathroom)…We both shared an appreciation for cheesy, simple, comforting, and nostalgic hits from our parents’ youth. By the time we found ourselves at Flann O’Brien’s together for karaoke for the first time, you were already a pro. I, on the other hand, was terrified. I had never sung in front of people that way before. Lets be clear. I LOVE to sing. But. I’m paralyzingly shy.

That night we decided to sing a favorite: “Silver Springs” by Fleetwood Mac. We chose to do it as a duet and switch off parts. All of our friends were there in the crowd (and tending bar) plus tons of people we didn’t know. Maybe it was the high we were feeling from performing, or maybe it was the gin and tonics, whatever it was, in that moment it was like we were magic and we sounded so incredible together! When we reached the chorus I chose the harmony and something crazy happened. The whole room lost control. It was like an out of body experience. I think at one point both of us dropped to our knees. When we finished people we didn’t know we’re coming up to us and congratulating us. It was truly a moment out of a movie and something I’ll always remember. Only maybe in my memory there is confetti raining down on us as we’re lifted onto shoulders and paraded down Tremont Street. We felt invincible.

Memory #5: Presents from Mum

Because I was 10 when my brother was born, I spent a good chunk of my childhood as an only child—what this means is that there was a whole decade of my life where I was spoiled by my parents and didn’t have to share anything with anyone, ever. Oh, the good ol’ days (just kidding Sean, you’re the best).

One of my favorite memories in the-land-before-Sean was when I was little and my mom was working nights as a hairdresser. My dad would make us dinner and get me ready for bed, but I always wanted to wait up for my mom to get home. Not only was I excited to see her (I thought she had the coolest job ever and wanted to be just like her when I grew up), but she always brought me home little presents —almost every single night as I remember it—and it was the best thing ever to look forward to. I fell asleep on those nights thinking I was the luckiest little girl in the whole world with the coolest mom ever—and I was totally right.

Thanks, Mummy. See, I remember things xoxo

Me & Mum putting on make-up

Memory #4: Rum Punch & Cheetos

A few years back, I was lucky enough to get invited to vacation with my best friend Sondra’s family on Tortola in the BVI. Growing up, I went on many a Hamnquist family vacations (they’re like my second parents), but this was the first time I was invited to tag along as an adult, so needless to say, I was beyond excited to soak up the Caribbean sun with Sondra and her folks.

The whole trip was wonderful, but the best day—probably one of the best days of my life actually—was when we took a day trip on a catamaran called the Aristocat from Tortola to Jost Van Dyke. We spent the day sailing around in the most beautiful, clear blue waters, swimming, snorkeling—and of course—making a stop at the infamous Soggy Dollar Bar, where I had my very first taste of a Pain Killer, or as I like to refer to it: the most delicious and magical drink of all time ever.

As if drinking Pain Killers in the tropical sunshine wasn’t perfect enough, when we swam back up to the Aristocat (you literally have to swim to the Soggy Dollar bar, hence the name), we were greeted by Captain Steve, who was quick to offer us rum punch and Cheetos.

That’s right…rum punch and Cheetos. 2 of my most favorite indulgences ever. Win. You’d better believe I spent the whole trip back to Tortola consuming unnecessary (and amazing) amounts of both.

Hello, dream life.

Me, Sondra, and her dad posing in front of the Soggy Dollar Bar

Sondra and I on the Aristocat