2010, the positive review

I once read a book called The Celestine Prophecy and one of the things that stuck with me from this book is the idea of self-fulfilling prophecies.  Basically, that boils down to this: if you think something bad is going to happen, it will.  And vice versa.

I really think this is true, to a certain extent, so I do strive to put more positive energy out into the world than negative.  And this applies to the current moment, forward-looking, and reviewing my past.  Part of the thought process in reviewing one's past is letting go, forgiving, and accepting - all simple enough terms, but really difficult goals when you get right down to it.  Who doesn't know a parent who experienced a difficult time letting go of a child and allowing that child to make his or her own life decisions, with all the consequences that come with transitioning into adulthood?  Who hasn't themself experienced a moment in which you just couldn't forgive and forget?  And who hasn't looked at themself in the mirror, focusing on all the flaws instead of just accepting that you are beautiful, just the way you are?

Keeping this in mind, I'd like to take a look at 2010 and remember all the beautiful things, the things that made me laugh, or the things that made me cry tears of joy, or just the moments that brought me good news.  So, without further ado, the awesome that was 2010:

• January.  When I first opened my eyes on New Year's Day 2010, my vision was full of ribbons and balloons, which was a really intoxicating, intimate experience that reminded me of the joys of childhood, especially when Ali (who was sleeping on the air mattress next to me) started laughing to the point of breathlessness and grabbing at all the balloons with her hands and feet.  The Lucchesi brothers had stolen the balloons from some bar in San Francisco on New Year's Eve and wandered all over town with them for the rest of the night, only to spy us sleeping in the basement when they returned home - they thought it would be a fun present.  It was.
• February.  After being unemployed and uninsured for over a year, I finally started my current job as a Foreign Service Officer with the U.S. Department of State.  Although I know plenty of people who are content to be a housewife or house-husband, I was never really happy when I wasn't working.  There aren't enough positive things to say in my world about receiving a paycheck and health insurance.  Moreover, I don't have the words to express how satisfying it is to be productive and hopefully be making a difference, and to get paid for the privilege.
• March.  Although I had, at the time, completely removed myself from the process and was eagerly discovering where all my new friends would be living and working for the next two years, one of the most unexpected and truly gratifying gifts I received this year was my assignment to Buenos Aires.  Someone, or many someones, was looking out for me when they selected me for Argentina.  I absolutely love it here.  And I think the number one reason for that is the people - there are such great people working here at Embassy Buenos Aires, Americans and Argentines alike.  I have made such good friends, learned a lot on the job, experienced quite a bit of the city and some of the other provinces, recieved quite a few ego boosts from Argentine men, developed a minor crush on one Argentine man in particular (since there is nothing to tell, I'm not spilling!), and learned to love living small, within my own boundaries, at my own pace.  Perhaps the joy is just a natural result of my insistence on making the best of whatever comes my way.  But regardless, I am happy here.
• April.  My first Cherry Blossom Festival in DC.  I avoid crowds like the plague, but Marilyn had a suggestion that beat all get out: she, Stephanie and I arose before dawn to walk down to the Tidal Basin and see the sun rise over the cherry trees.  There aren't a lot of people on the streets in DC at 6AM, which meant that it was fairy tale perfect.  And I finally crossed off another life list item: sit on Einstein's lap!
• May.  The most important thing in my life are my friends (and family!).  I may be one of the world's worst correspondents and I freely admit to hating the phone, but I think of you all the time, day in and day out, hoping that you are happy, wondering what new adventures you are up to, remembering the times we shared together, and looking forward to the next time I get to hug and squeeze you (or, in Andrew's case, get my revenge and throw you in a garbage can).  In May I was visited by two of my dearest friends (Mel, Estee, you know I am looking at you!), I celebrated the Kentucky Derby and Stephanie at her Kentucky Derby birthday party with all of our new Foreign Service friends, I said goodbye to the most infamous carpool ever (geez, Max, Emma, Sean, I actually miss those godawful cds Max used to play for us on our way into work - R. Kelly, anyone?), I spent an afternoon hiking with the Spouse family at Great Falls, and I attended Morgan's wedding in the Outer Banks of North Carolina.  If there is anything that the "jet-setting" lifestyle of the Foreign Service teaches you, it is to take advantage of what you have when you have it.  (The flip side is to also learn when you've had enough and it's time to say "no.")  Guys, how I do so love taking advantage of you...wait, I meant that in a really nice way, I swear!
• June.  How many ivy league grads does it take to blow up an air mattress?  Seriously, guys, how many?  We discovered that it was precisely 5.  The same number of ivy league grads you can fit into a deliciously tiny one-bedroom DC apartment for a weekend.  Plus Maggie.
• July.  I moved to Argentina.  I experienced new sights, new sounds, a new culture, a new take on an old language.  It was difficult.  It was exciting.  It changed my life.  And I love, love, LOVE IT.
• August.  I discovered Oui Oui.  I like to eat, and I like to eat the way Americans eat for breakfast.  None of that croissant, a coffee and a cigarette bull-poop Argentine style of eating breakfast.  And none of that weak, soggy ham and cheese, plus yogurt and unripe fruit European/continental style breakfast either.  Give me waffles, pancakes, eggs, bacon, homefries, toast, and a side of scrapple, if you please!  And Oui Oui delivers, baby, Oui Oui delivers.  Except for the scrapple.  That was just me going overboard.  Did I mention that I love Oui Oui?!!
• September.  Kaitlin and Matt, my first two visitors.  I really enjoyed hearing about their experiences at their posts, and really learned from their stories.  More importantly, to me at least, I found the support I didn't know I needed.  Even though everyone in my Foreign Service class is doing vastly different jobs, there are still Junior Officer experiences that we all share, can learn from, can kvetch about, and can grow from.  That, and Kaitlin and Matt just plain rock.
• October.  The tradition continues!  The Ladies Lunch Club of Lima has now morphed into the Ladies Brunch Club of Buenos Aires.  Our inaugural brunch was on Argentina's Mother's Day at the Evita Cafe.  We shared stories, dirty jokes, an afternoon full of laughter, and it was good.  Really good.
• November.  Hands down, no question, November was AWESOME.  It always rocks because it is the month that contains Thanksgiving, but in 2010 I turned 31.  While dancing.  On a glacier.  In Patagonia. 
• December.  And this brings me back to the last post...New Year's Eve.  I can sum it up in one short sentence (in case you missed it last time): 360 FREAKIN' DEGREES OF FIREWORKS.

So yes, indeedy, you have a good life, Ms. Ryan...

Happy 2011! (whenever that was...)

Although I have never been a huge fan of New Year's Eve, as I've gotten older, I've developed a new respect for the idea that it marks the beginning of a new year, with new prospects and renewed hope for something better.  I still don't like the way it appears that most Americans pass the holiday - en masse, with overpriced food and drinks, but drunk nonetheless - nor do I believe that I will ever feel comfortable with the idea of creating a resolution just because it's New Year's (after all, if you see a change that needs to be made in your life, why wait until New Year's?).  However, living overseas is slowly changing my feelings towards the holiday.

For Argentines, New Year's Eve is very similar to Christmas Eve, in that everyone gathers at a relative's home, eats a late meal, and then enjoys the fireworks that start around midnight.  Then all the clubs and bars open around 2AM and the younger crowd joins up with friends.

Unlike Christmas Eve, I did not adopt an Argentine family for New Year's.  Instead, my friend Jason had reserved me at least a month prior, telling me that I was his for New Year's Eve.  He hosted such a wonderful New Year's Eve party that it rivals all other New Year's Eves I have ever had.  (Although I am pretty sure that I will never ever forget the New Year's at the Shore, Ty-Ty and Saleah!  And I know that in my heart of hearts, my favorite is still watching the Kathy Griffin marathon on t.v., then watching the ball drop in Times Square with Dick Clark, and then turning out all the lights in Anthony's twenty square foot apartment so we could see all the illegal firework displays over the Hudson River in New Jersey.)

In most respects, Jason's party was your average party - there was good music, excellent food (some prepared by yours truly!), wonderful people, plenty of flowing alcohol, and the like, but the real kicker was the view.  At 11:30PM, we all traipsed up to the 35th floor of Jason's apartment building to exit to the roof so we could have a 360-degree view of the Buenos Aires city skyline.  We screamed out a countdown and then it started: THREE HUNDRED AND SIXTY DEGREES OF FIREWORKS.  I can't begin to describe how incredible it was.  Fireworks are legal in Buenos Aires and any fool with some disposible income and an inclination towards blowing things up can buy as much as they want.  So Argentines flock to their nearest firework supply store, invite all their family over, eat well, drink a lot of champagne, and then set fireworks off from their nearest street corner, balcony, rooftop, or window (hey, for all I know, this could be true).  And I benefit from this madness.

I have never seen anything like it before and, even if I am in Buenos Aires for New Year's Eve again this year, it probably won't be the same.  The pure magic of that first time might be a little diminished, or Jason won't be here and I won't have access to his roof. 

Irregardless, New Year's Eve 2010 was one for the record books.

Me, my unused camera, and the host.

Self-portrait!

The gang's all here! 
L-R: Pablito, Neal, moi, Jason, Petra, John, Arin, and Sandra, front and center.

Christmas in Argentina

Christmas Day itself is kind of a let-down after all the scurrying, preparations, and cooking that is done for Christmas Eve.  Like every other Latin American country I've lived in thus far, Argentina celebrates on Buenanoche, not on Christmas itself.  I imagine the scene is a bit different for every family, but for the Richinis, whom I adopted this year, Christmas Eve is a familial mix of pop music in both English and Spanish, lots of homemade grub, fireworks, opening presents from Papa Noel, eating bags of chocolate, and discussing politics, life, and the finer details of the life of the strange gringa sitting at their table - primarily asking if she's single or has a novio (which means a serious boyfriend or fiance).

For my part, the biggest challenge of Christmas Eve is finding a bus or taxi.  Unlike other major international cities, there is no real capitalist streak here in Buenos Aires.  One would think that a cabbie could make a barrel full of money on Christmas Eve, considering how many people travel to their brother's/sister's/parents' home to celebrate the holiday, but no.  The Argentine way of thinking dictates that since Christmas Eve is a holiday for most Argentines, it's a holiday for all the cabbies as well.  I tried tracking down one company that was at least kind enough to send me an email to let me know that cab service would start again at 4AM (of course, please note that their phone line just puts you on hold with your and my favorite elevator music, saying nothing at all of this).  This wasn't particularly helpful since I was supposed to show up between 9:30PM-10PM.  So I just started walking down the street, hoping against hope that one lonely cab driver would be out.  I got lucky.  I had only been walking about 5 minutes when I saw an open cab.  At first I thought he was just going to speed past me, but he applied the brakes at the very last second and I ran across the street to hop in.  Then he kindly informed me that the rate would be double.  After all, he said, it's a holiday.  Ugh.

But at least I was able to get to Monica's house without walking all the way there in the heels I put on because Monica told me her family dresses up for the occassion.  Let me point out, for the benefit of Monica, of course, that I was wearing what she refers to as "boyfriend heels."  She has been giving me lots of crap lately for not putting in the effort to look nice when we go out, usually to bars, which includes wearing "boyfriend heels."  To which I responded that, "It's a freakin' bar, Monica!  No one should have to dress up to go to a bar."  To which she clearly responded, "That's why you're single, Ryan."  Sigh.

In any case, I made it to the Richini household sometime before 11PM and finally met Mommy and Daddy Richini.  One of the nicest traditions in latin culture is all the kissing that happens, even when you are just meeting someone for the first time.  You get kisses on the cheek and big warm hugs, making you feel very welcome.  This is exactly what my Nonnie had prepared me for - I just knew there was a reason she used to make me hug and kiss complete strangers when I was a child! 

So I gave Monica's mom the flowers I had bought her, unloaded the fudgemallow candy I had prepared, and stored my dinner in the kitchen.  Then it was time for heated discussions about politics and the Villa Soldati debacle, conversations about Ryan's love life (or lack thereof), family photos, food, fireworks, and even more conversations about Ryan's love life.  Then there were shouts of "Regalos de Papa Noel!  Papa Noel!  Papa Noel!" and Monica ran to the tree, grabbed all the gift bags off the branches and the presents off the floor and threw them at people until everyone had something to open, even me.  It was very haphazard and reminded me of the old Christmas Eve parties we used to have at Grampie Trap's house, in which the whole Janda family would gather at Grampie's house in the afternoon to pick "greens" to make wreaths, make wreaths while listening to Christmas carols and watching football, eat a feast, go next door to buy a Christmas tree, decorate said Christmas tree, unload ten tonnes of gifts under the tree, and then the present-opening fury would begin, with my littlest cousins tossing presents across the room while those with presents would tear into them, throwing wrapping paper and ribbon in a thousand different directions.  The Richini gift-giving experience was similar, if on a much smaller scale (the Janda family breeds like rabbits - there is always a new Janda popping up somewhere!).

Then Francisco, Monica's brother, fell asleep on the balcony and, one by one, Daddy Richini, Agustina (Moni's sister), and Mommy Richini all drifted off to their bedrooms to sleep, while Monica and I remained at the dinner table, picking at the leftover food, drinking the leftover wine and champagne (well, I was drinking water, but...), and chatting until 5AM.

It was a very good Christmas...Eve.

Christmas Day found me sleeping until 1PM and then slowly trying to get my act together.  I walked the dogs (still dog-sitting for Petra), and then pulled myself together enough to go into the office to take care of a few things.  The streets in the city are completely dead on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, which is a little bit strange for me.  I've lived in cities for quite some time now, and neither one of these days is as dead in other cities as it is here.  The only time I saw signs of life was when I came home at 5AM and the corner bar was PACKED to the edge of the sidewalk with people and noise.  Everywhere else was still.

I had tried to get a group of people interested in a Jewish Christmas (going to a movie and eating Chinese food), but everyone seemed to be out of town, so I spent Christmas evening talking to my family, eating leftovers, and watching about a half hour of It's a Wonderful Life.  I got an invitation to go out to a bar around 10PM, but I opted for a heavy round of sleeping instead.

And that, my friends, is how Christmas went down here in Argentina.  I still miss the cold weather, the Christmas carols, the smells and food of a winter Christmas, the tree, wrapping presents, and all of you guys, but Christmas is still pretty darn good when you adopt a new family and new traditions.

The highlights

We're sliding into Christmas here and it's as hot as hades, my least favorite way to celebrate what for me is a cold-weather holiday.  This marks my third warm weather Christmas and I still haven't quite wrapped my head around it.  In fact, this year I didn't even decorate.  (But I promise, there's a reason for that!  I ordered a Christmas tree - finding a real Christmas tree overseas is next to impossible - and completely forgot that it was too big to be sent through our pouch mail service.  So it was refused delivery at the warehouse in Virginia.  I got the refund notification today.  Oh well, there's always next year.)

The good news, however, is that I am going to spend my first Christmas in Argentina with a real Argentine family!  I know that sounds really obvious and, perhaps, a little bit lackluster, but I am thoroughly excited nonetheless.  I did not receive this kind of invitation while living in either Peru or Mexico, so it makes this year very special.  In all three of these latin countries, the big celebration is actually on Christmas Eve.  All the family and friends gather on Christmas Eve to eat, open presents, dance, and eat some more.  There are also lots of fireworks.  I don't know exactly what kind of traditions go into the Argentine version, but I will very soon find out...

In other news, here's a quick rundown of what you've missed:

• The biggest change in my life came about on my birthday.  As a gift to myself (other than the KICKASS! vacation), I decided to quit drinking altogether and to adopt healthier eating habits, the most relevant of which is that I no longer eat red meat or pork.  Which is making me quite the oddity in Argentina.  Yes, yes, I know, they are known for their Malbec and their steak.  Been there, done that, developed the willpower to say "no," and dropped it like the bad habit it is.  The good news is that I didn't eat much red meat or drink much in the first place.  I also found this great food service that caters to vegetarians and vegans, so I now have a new ally in this quest to live a healthier life: Cocina Verde.
• My maid left for a three-week vacation to visit family in Uruguay.  This makes it on the list because it helps explain why I am even more boring than before.  My life now consists of long hours in the office (including nights and weekends) and long hours doing my domestic chores: waiting in the grocery store line, cooking, cleaning, doing laundry, walking my and Petra's dog, etc.  Which brings me to 2 more points...
• I am watching Petra's dog, Friskie, who is one of the sweetest puppies ever.  However, she sheds like you would't believe and I have puppy-sized dog fur tumbleweeds blowing about my house.  It's a little less now that I've vacuumed, but I imagine it'll look like the wild west again in the morning.  In any case, Friskie is with me since Petra had to overstay her family vacation to Barbados because her dad suffered a stroke.  He is doing better now and is well enough to fly back to the DC area today, which makes me very glad for Petra.  In the meantime, I've been home every afternoon to walk our two darlings (my maid is on vacation, remember), and have given Friskie her athritis medication religiously every morning.  I even turned on the A/C for them.  All the porteros think I've adopted another dog, but I have to admit that I am not crazy enough to do that to myself ever again.  As fantastic as Friskie is, of course.  Anyway, there are now three crazy broads living under the same roof.
• The other related point is that I'm getting a lot of flak lately for not "having fun."  Even one of my doctors was asking me if the Argentine men have figured out that I am single yet.  Which makes this a good time to point out that it seems to me that the Argentines' idea of "having fun" is roughly equivalent to going out with a lot of Argentines and having casual sex.  While we Americans find questions about our sex life to be personal, Argentines find them to be just a matter of course.  Very nonchalantly they talk about their sex lives - not to the level of detail in which they describe their favorite sexual positions, but enough so that it would make the average American a little uncomfortable.  So, in the middle of my last appointment, my (female) doctor asks me about my dating life.  "Why aren't you dating?  Aren't there are men you could date in the embassy?"  It was a bit awkward, as I was more or less naked at the time (another comment about doctors here - they don't necessarily leave the room while you strip down), but I tried to answer with a bit of a brush-off comment: "Most of the men I know in the embassy are either married or gay."  Not exactly true, but not entirely a lie either.  Luckily, I also came up with the brilliant idea to ask the good doctor if she has a boyfriend (she is divorced, her children grown), which got her to talking about herself and left me out of the spotlight.  But not before she told me to have more fun.  This is all to say that she's not the only one who has mentioned this to me lately.  I thought I was having fun.  I know I often describe myself as pretty lame, but I actually don't think I am - I just see that most single people I know spend their weekends drinking heavily at bars or clubs and I imagine that they look at my idea of a good time (spending time with friends over a good meal, reading a book, walking my dog, spending a lazy Sunday afternoon drinking mate in the park with friends, talking to my family, watching movies, running, doing yoga, etc.) is BORING.  It's hard to play up the fact that I don't spend a lot of time dancing on tables or making out with complete strangers or getting smashed.  And I'm not against any of these things, actually, but they're just not what I do on a regular basis. So yeah, I apparently don't look like I'm having fun.  (And I'll just stop babbling now.)
• A totally random anecdote: right outside my bathroom window are two machines that control the air conditioners inside my apartment.  Usually, there are a bunch of pigeons out there, cooing, which is really lovely as I find the sound pigeons make to be incredibly relaxing.  Pigeons make me very happy (and all you naysayers out there, I don't want to hear a darn thing about how pigeons are rats with wings!).  Regardless, the other morning, I glanced out the window and there it was - an eagle, perched on the ledge, looking around with its fierce eyes.  I think I stopped breathing for a moment, hoping he wouldn't see me and then fly away.  We stared at each other for a good 5 minutes, I think, before he realized that I was too close for comfort.  But those 5 minutes were pretty amazing.
• I got a pretty awesome assignment at work.  We take turns serving as "control officers" for VIP visits, whether they are congressional delegations, congressional staffers, the Secretary of State, or other high-level staff within the State Department.  Right now I'm the control officer for someone pretty high in the Department (as a holdover from my DS days, I'm not mentioning names, dates, or anything else - I am pretty paranoid about this stuff), which means that I am the person that organizes the whole trip, from the small details like arranging for a hotel and arranging for a car, to much larger issues like securing meetings with high-level Argentine government officials.  And by "organize," I mean "delegate," so I am basically the program manager for the VIP visit.  (I also like to walk around saying that I am "controlling the hell out of the VIP!")  But I will also be with him during every step of his trip when he finally arrives, making sure that things go smoothly.  It is actually something I feel I am very good at - while I am not yet an expert on serving as a control officer, and am learning new things all the time, the organizing and phone calls and logistics all come pretty naturally to me.  I really enjoy it.  I hope to do more of these visits.
• Next year is shaping up to be pretty awesome in terms of visitors.  Del-vish! should be coming in the spring (you'd better!), Jeff and Liz are coming in March, the Penn crew is looking at summer (June/July/August), Jah is bringing a whole crew in November (BOOM!), and I've got the Fisher family for Christmas 2011.  I am also planning to take my home leave in September so I can attend Eric's wedding, visit my doctors and friends (and colleagues) in DC, and say "hi" to my mom (New York might also be on the list of places to be).  Pretty damn sweet, if I say so myself.  All I have to do now is convince my mom that, now that she's out of a job, she has plenty of time to come to Argentina for a long visit - like, say, six months!  I mean, really, da' Momma, when are you ever going to have this opportunity again?  COME.  STAY.  You will love it, I promise.

So, you see? You haven't missed much by my being away from the computer for a few weeks.  Just the little details, the stuff of life.  And the fact that I'm apparently not having any fun.  (wink, wink)

On Argentine men, parte dos

As I was walking home Tuesday night, an Argentine man started softly calling to me, “Usted es la más linda…va a matar a todos la belleza.” A compliment to which I just started laughing my ass off…and he continued on his merry way, as if nothing unusual had just occurred.


For all ye non-Spanish speakers, my new Argentine friend said something like, “You’re the prettiest…your beauty will kill everyone.”

Die, everyone, die!  Mwahahahaha...!

This broad’s abroad for Thanksgiving

(Editor's note: This post was written on Thanksgiving morning but the telecommunications gods decided to cut my phone and internet access about two weeks ago.  You'll just have to forgive me for being late.)

One of the most difficult things about living overseas is the result of the need to make choices about when to travel home and how to balance priorities. Essentially, this means that I often miss out on some of the most important events in my friends’ and family’s lives. It is seldom that I am able to go back to the good ol’ U.S. of A for weddings, funerals, births, bar/bat mitzvahs, birthdays, promotions, or holidays. Although this is frustrating and often leads me to feel wistful and heartsick (because, frankly, I really do love you guys – something I don’t say often enough, I think), the hardest time of year to be away from home is on Thanksgiving.


Of all the holidays in all the cultures of the world, for me, nothing compares to our tradition of gathering all the disparate branches of our family tree together under one roof to share some laughter, food, dirty jokes, tears, joys, hopes, and the year’s most enormous meal. A few of you have been lucky enough to participate in one of my family’s Thanksgivings – and even a luckier few have been around for our pajama Thanksgiving! – so you know firsthand how special they can be. Unlike many other American families, we don’t disappear after the meal to unbutton our pants and watch football in self-contented silence. It is all family (and friends!), all the time. Plus food, all that glorious, glorious food.

Over the years, things have changed, which have altered our Thanksgivings forever. The most important change was the passing of my grandmother, Nonnie, who was the clear matriarch of our family and who hosted the most amazing family meals ever. To this day, we all still gather around the table and share stories about her (and especially her stuffed artichokes!). This year, I find myself thinking about her quite a bit. I think she would have really been delighted to know that I joined the Foreign Service and am now a true “global citizen,” for she dearly loved to travel. I also think there are many people who have entered into my life that she would have really enjoyed meeting (not to mention pinching their butts!); it is sad to know that she isn’t here anymore to share our stories. But I sincerely give thanks for having had her in my life for as long as I did and being able to love and cherish her as my grandmother. Te mando un beso y un abrazo al cielo, Nonnie.

The other change that looms large in my life has everything to do with this nomadic life I lead. As I may have mentioned to you, within the past year or so, I moved four times, and lived in four different countries. This has been a difficult year emotionally and physically, not to mention financially. What that essentially means is that I didn’t have the time, nor the energy, nor the financial reserves to get my sorry butt home to Massachusetts for turkey day – making this the second time in three years that I am not home for Thanksgiving. And, as if I couldn’t be sad enough on my own, every time I can’t make it home, da’ Momma calls with tears in her voice and tells me how much she misses me. I miss you, too, da’ Momma, and I love you BESTEST. Now stop making me cry, dammit!

That is not to say that Thanksgiving is ruined for me, by any means. This year, I am co-hosting Turkey Day dinner with my friend, Petra, and I am in charge of the turkey. If our count is even remotely correct (which it is highly unlikely it is, since we have had many changes to the guest list), there should be about eight of us sitting down to dinner in just a few short hours. And last night, there were about twelve to fifteen of us at a pre-Thanksgiving dinner hosted by the Gunny Sergeant of the Marines. So I haven’t been alone for a moment. I am surrounded by friends, and laughter, and ten tons of incredible homemade food. But I carry my family in my heart, as well as all the friends from before, who can’t always be with me.

The hostesses doing their best Vanna White meets Martha Stewart, "Hey look at my table settings!" pose.

Los Walton (minus Neil).

Dude, Nile is so photogenic (sometimes).

Diego was totally in love with Nile.  I think he wants one!

Just before the turkey carnage got into full swing.

My family for the day: buen provecho!

Some day I hope to have goals

Recently I was asked what I want in life. The question was within the parameters of romantic relationships, and I was certainly taken aback by the question since I realized that the answer has changed so much over time. I distinctly remember my dad once advising me to “find someone similar to you so you get along, but with enough differences that you have something to talk about.” Which could very easily explain why Vince and I are no longer even friends (although this could very much have to do with a recent Facebook message he sent me, apropos of nothing, to inform me that I am now, have always been, and always will be a truly horrible human being), but it doesn’t stretch far enough to explain why Anthony and I couldn’t make it work. After all, I thought we were going to get married and have beautiful baby together (singular usage definitely intended).


While I still think that what my father said holds true, there is so much more to finding a life partner than that, some of which is completely inexplicable because it’s more on a cellular, chemical level. But some of it is far easier to rationalize – which is clearly what a logical person like myself does to explain why, after a decade defined by two long-term relationships, I find myself single once again.

The rationalizing? I compare men I meet or have met to the men I’ve dated – a few key things from each relationship certainly stick out in my brain as things I would like to improve upon in the next, and hopefully last, round. Not all of the sticking points are about the men, either, because I could certainly learn to be kinder, more present, more forgiving, more open, more loving, and clearly more communicative (a good friend of mine recently told me how surprised she was to find out how emotionally inaccessible I am – apparently there’s room for improvement). Or, I could turn Vince’s world upside down and just stop being such a no-good, very bad, horrible person.

But regarding the question of what I want in a romantic partner, I’ve got a list nebulously started in my brain. I am sure there is more to it than just the following, but I’ll share with you a few of the highlights. I am hoping for a man who…
• Loves me for who I am and who I have the potential to be;
• Is my best friend;
• Is a man who I respect, and who values loyalty, honor and honesty;
• Communicates (with me, preferably);
• Knows that relationships require a lot of care and attention, and that difficulties will come, but is committed to seeing them through;
• Will love my family and make sacrifices for them, just as he would with his own family;
• Laughs with me about everything and nothing – and helps me laugh at myself.

Basically, I am just looking for someone to grow old with me and who will share all of life’s ups and downs with me – and do it gratefully, gladly, respectfully and with love. Somehow, I don’t think this is too much to ask.

(Mel, this totally reminds me of that conversation we had years ago about the kind of partner you were looking for…you said something along the lines of doctor or lawyer, plays the piano, not Asian…I wonder how much you’ve revised your list since then?)