Making an Apartment a Home

When I first moved into my apartment, my bedroom looked like this.
After about three weeks I couldn't take it anymore and I spent a whole weekend painting, so it looked like this.

Since then I've added little touches here and there that have taken my room from four walls were I can hang my hat and crash at night, to a space that is homey, inviting, and - dare I say it? - stylish.

My room is completely a reflection of me. My tastes, my preferences. My personality. The process of transforming this big empty space into a physical expression of who I am has been so much fun, and I'm nowhere near done yet! I thought I'd share some of my favorite parts of my room with you here:

Amazing lamp I bought in Perugia. On my way to meet my friends at a bar one night, and already three sheets to the wind, I passed a street vendor selling these lamps. The best 20 euro I ever spent.

Pretty candles!

Candle, sketches, a tin from Barcelona filled with (fake) peonies, amazing vase with peacock feathers all sitting pretty on top of my bookcase.

And in my bookcase? My babies. This is only half of one shelf.

Amazing family photos. Both of my grandfathers on the left, and my parents when they were my age on the right.

A ridiculous and disturbing picture Hannah drew me of a dream she had once.

Fabulous ottoman I bought for about 30 dollars that I use as a seat at my desk rather than a traditional chair.

My favorite quotes written on colorful paper fluttering on the wall above my desk.

Put it all together and the effect is quite lovely, no?
I still have a ways to go. First on the list is to find something to fill that big empty space between my dresser and my bookcase! But, all in all, I'm very happy with what I've done so far.

How did you turn your bedroom/apartment/house from a blank canvas into a home?

TJW Class of 1994

You guys know how Melanie and I met, right? One day in Mrs. Archer's first grade class our eyes met across the rows of desks, we bonded over our love of barbies, and we've been best friends ever since. Her edgy, blunt bangs and my insane curly afro - we made the perfect pair. Fast forward 17 years and now we're roommates! Interestingly enough, another Mrs. Archer's class alum has been added to the mix. Check out Melanie's post on her blog:

True Life: I’m living with my first grade class.

It’s true! This should probably be a reality TV show. Kind of like that show “High School Reunion” (total fail), but better, because the last time most of us saw each other we had just learned how to read and add 2-digit numbers.

I’ve been living with Domenica – first grade BFFL – since September. Our other roommate, Fina, got a job in Denver and had to move out – SAD. But, a fellow Mrs. Archer’s class alum, Allison, needed a place to live in Boston – HAPPY! So, Allison moved in and now we can relive a first-grade reunion every day.

Here’s proof of our 17-year friendship:

My 7th birthday party: there’s Allison on the right, and that spot on my arm that looks like I have a tiny bit of gorilla hair growing on me is actually Domenica. This was prior to her gorgeous hair days.

Here we are again. This was the tea party portion of my party…what a life. Allison, I truly love your hat.
Domenica is on the right. Proof.

Unfortunately I don’t yet have a picture of the three of us nowadays, but I can assure you we all look slightly better than we did at age 7.

Welcome to the apartment, Allison!

I'd like to add a photo of my own to the mix:

Welcome, indeed. Now let's party like it's 1994!

Happy New Year!

Happy New Year everyone!


Can you believe it's 2011?

Me either.

One year ago I posted my new year's resolutions for 2010. Confession: I didn't do most of the things on this list. Didn't run in a 5k, didn't perform in a musical, didn't speak that much more Italian. Kind of disappointing. The good news is that I am adopting these same resolutions for 2011 and adding in a few more:

Host a Dinner Party
My friend Kristen and I have been talking about this for a few weeks. I love cooking for other people, I love entertaining, and I love getting dressed up. A small dinner party is the perfect combination! Plus I just got this for Christmas and I want to make, oh, everything in it.

Acting
A few days ago I watched the movie The Town for the first time. Great film, but that's not what struck me. One of the cops looked familiar but I couldn't place him. Then he had a speaking scene and it all clicked - I used to take acting classes with this guy at the Boston Center for the Arts. What?! Time for me to get my audition on.

Dream Job
Don't get me wrong, I don't hate the job I have now, but I don't love it. I feel like it is a god job for someone like me, right out of college and deciding what their next move is. The thing is, I feel like I am ready to make that next move. I'm not 100% sure what it's going to be, but I know I'll never find out unless I take a chance. And there's no time better than the present.

Travel
My best friend from college, Hannah, is moving to Wales in 10 days. I've never been and this is obviously my perfect opportunity to go. My brother is looking at med schools out west and I'm going to visit him wherever he ends up. And just last night my friend James was talking to me about his parents' time share in Hawaii. Gotta get my suitcases out and ready!

Be more open
More open to new people, new experiences, new everything. I want to live and love every moment, every word, to the point that it's absurd.

Love.

Bring it on, 2011. I am so ready.

Moments from 2010 I Never Want to Forget

Memorial day spent on my friends' roof. Gorgeous weather, gorgeous view of my city. Friends (new and old) lounging, laughing, drinking. A perfect day.

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The first time I saw my name in the masthead of the Improper Bostonian.

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A morning spent with someone who gives me butterflies in my stomach. Lounging around in our t-shirts, talking, laughing, not wanting to leave our little bubble. The way he picked me up and carried me, the way he ran his fingers through my hair. Kisses that made my knees wobbly.

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Graduation. The feeling I felt when I opened my diploma and saw my name. Looking up into the crowd and seeing my parents' faces.

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Lazy days at 772 spent on the couch, eating Annie's Mac & Cheese, and watching movie after movie and medical mystery shows.

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Halloween. A great night with my friends and one of my favorite costumes ever.

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Moving out of 772 and into Greenway Court. The end of one era and the beginning of another. Painting and decorating the new place, making it a home.

An Italian Christmas Feast

I am an Italian American. Not the Jersey Shore, obnoxious guido kind. But a real Italian American. Once who knows exactly where her grandparents are from in Italy, who can speak the language, and whose family still celebrates all of the Italian traditions my grandparents and their grandparents grew up with.

I am proud of my heritage and proud of my family.

One of our biggest traditions is Christmas Eve. A lot of people have a low-key Christmas Eve. Maybe they watch a movie and have a quiet dinner with their immediate family. That's great, but that's not how my family does things.

In Italian culture, Christmas Eve - La Vigilia di Natale - is a bigger deal, more important, than Christmas day. We don't eat any meat on Christmas Eve, because it's a day of penitence, so instead we have a feast of seven different types of fish. Shrimp, scallops, cod, smelt (my grandfather's choice!), tuna, calamari, and tilapia. The first four are fried, the tuna is made into a sauce for fettuccini, the calamari is stuffed with bread crumbs and cheese and cooked in a red wine sauce, and tilapia is baked with butter, lemon, white wine and garlic. We also have homemade polenta and eggplant parmesan (more on that later!). We're up by 8am and frying fish by 9. Everyone helps. Take a look:


Grandpa just oversees everything. And yes, that is my dad's homemade wine in the background.

When everything is cooked, we all shower and get ready for mass at 4. Traditionally you'd go to midnight mass, but when my cousins and I were all little, it was much easier for our parents to go to the earlier mass and it just kind of stuck. Then back to my parents' house to eat and drink and drink and eat. Everyone is dressed to the nines and family photos are taken in front of the Christmas tree. After dinner we change into our Christmas jammies and play games.

And yes, even though I am 23 years old, my dad still reads me The Polar Express before I go to bed.

Then it's up in the morning for presents, and over to my Aunt Tara and Uncle Cataldo's house for the feast round 2. YUM!

Buon Natale, everyone. :)

A Very ModCloth Christmas Party

Remember when I bought this dress?
Well now you can see how the finished product turned out when I wore it to my company's holiday party.


I styled it with black pantyhose (not tights - little girls wear tights, my friends, women wear pantyhose), black pumps, and an amazing little rhinestone encrusted belt I found at thrift store somewhere. Hair up to so as not to distract from the dress, and no necklace to show off my shoulders/collarbone. Sparkly earrings and festive red lips topped it off.

What do you think? Would you have styled it differently?

p.s. Thank youuuuu, ModCloth!

Christmas Tree Adventure

Oh boy, kids, Christmas is officially here - the Christmas tree is in the house! Melanie, her former roommate Liz and Liz's fiancee Dave went a-hunting for the perfect trees yesterday. Our first stop did not prove to be fruitful. Well, we saw Santa.

BUT the trees were outrageously expensive so we drove about 20 minutes to another farm nearby. It was great and we BOTH found our Christmas trees.



Our very first Christmas tree!

When Mel and I got back home we immediately got into decoration mode. Christmas music blasting from my computer, we whipped that tree into tip-top Christmas shape.


Super cute ornaments for Melanie and Domenica!

The Christmas spirit is in full swing at Greenway Court!

(P.S. Half these photos are courtesy of Miss. Melanie and her amazing new camera.)

Thoughts on Writing

I recently had to write a personal statement for a job that I'm applying to. It's a copywriter position at the company I already work for, and I had to write a paragraph or two explaining why I want the job and why I'd be the perfect fit.

I had the hardest time getting started.

Let's just call it a serious case of writer's block.

But, as I sat on my little golden ottoman in front of my little black desk, just staring at my blank computer screen and waiting for inspiration to strike, it got me thinking about writing. About the nature of writing. If I get this job (and I really hope I do - keep your fingers crossed!), that's what I'll spend the majority of my days doing. Which means I'll be sitting at my desk at work much like I sat at my desk at home this afternoon. Knees pulled up to my chest, arms wrapped around them, head cocked to the side, staring off into space. All of these thoughts flying prettily around my head like little butterflies. I observe and examine each one before I reach out and gently close my hand around the one I can use best, pinning its wings to my paper with the words that capture it perfectly.

The act of writing isn't when you put your pen to the paper - or fingers to the keyboard - it's what happens before that. For me, writing is what happens when I'm staring off into space. The trick to being a good writer, I believe, is being able to be alone with your own thoughts. All of the messy and crazy ideas zipping around your brain. Being able to sit and be quiet with them, taking each thought for what it is, and having the ability to determine how you can use it, if you can use it at all, in your writing. The words are, for me, secondary. For me it's always been about the thought, the message, I'm trying to convey.

The problem is that lately my thoughts have been very quiet.

I haven't felt inspired by anything or anyone lately, and it seems like writing (and blogging) has become more of a chore than a creative outlet. I wonder why that is. Because normally this little corner of the virtual world brings me a lot of joy. I know it's just a phase, but I wish it would hurry up and pass on by. Or maybe I just need to keep writing and push through it. Maybe both.

What do you think, dear readers? How do you deal with bouts of writer's block like this?

Zombie Run 2011

Sometimes my friends and I do crazy things. That's probably why we're friends. Last year we started doing this zombie pub crawl through Davis Square in Somerville. Here's a photo from last year.

Yup.
Here's a few from this year's Zombie Run:





I may or may not have scared a baby. And then got yelled at by the baby mama. It's all good.

Oaks Inn

Did I ever tell you that my family owns a restaurant?

My great grandparents, my father's grandparents, Paolo and Teresa, came over from Italy in the early 1920's. My great-grandfather worked for a time at the Endicott Johnson Shoe Factory. My dad told me once that he was a healer. That he had a gift for helping people, for fixing them. People used to go to see him instead of going to the doctor's. Maybe that's where my brother gets it from. My great-grandmother was a housewife, I suppose. But with 8 kids, they needed to make a living somehow. And so in 1932 they opened Oaks Inn.

Yes, I realize the Italian on the menu doesn't really make any sense. To be honest, I don't think I've opened the menu since I was about 10 years old. The quote should read, "Un giorno senza vino e` come un giorno senza il sole." Don't worry, it's being updated.

Over the years, everyone on my dad's side of the family has worked there. My parents have old photos of them all. I'll have to get copies and upload them sometime. My dad even lived in the apartment above the restaurant when he was a little boy, before my grandparents bought their house. Today my father's cousins own the restaurant.

Someday, when I am rich, I am going to buy the restaurant from my cousins. It needs to be redecorated, reorganized, updated a little bit and brought back in time to its glory days. My brother said he'd help me. I won't touch the menu. Add to it a little bit perhaps, but the menu hasn't changed in years. But why should it? It's fantastic. I've literally gotten the exact same meal every time I've gone there since I was 10 years old.

Chicken Saltimbocca.
I mean, seriously?

My dad's favorite, Lemon Veal.


Homemade spaghetti and gnocchi.

I die.

After: My Bedroom!

Remember when my bedroom looked like this?

Well, after about 48 straight hours of painting, every muscle in my body aching, bruises on my legs where I leaned against the ladder, and my hair and face splattered with paint, my bedroom now looks like this:


I love it!

Quite an improvement, no?