You know how much I love So You Think You Can Dance. Love love love. Hands down one of the most entertaining shows on television. These dancers are incredibly, incredibly talented. The season ended last week and I just wanted to share my three favorite numbers with you.
Melanie & Marko from the first night of the competition. So heartbreakingly lovely.
The top 10 girls. Bad ass.
And this. This. Sasha and Twitch. Mmm, mmm, mmmmm. This is how breakfast should be every morning.
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Happy Birthday Mac!
Happy birthday to the best brother a girl could ask for!
Back when my brother was too fat to crawl.
Mac is 22 today. And at 22 he's already done way more than I have at 24. For example, last night we were FaceTiming and I asked him how school was going. His response? "Great. This morning I cracked open this guy's spine with a chisel to see his spinal chords."
What did you do today?
Not only is the kid smarter than I am, he's funnier, nicer, and all around cooler than I'll ever be. A little brother a girl can really look up to.
Hope you had a wonderful day, Mac. I love you!
Back when my brother was too fat to crawl.
What did you do today?
Not only is the kid smarter than I am, he's funnier, nicer, and all around cooler than I'll ever be. A little brother a girl can really look up to.
Hope you had a wonderful day, Mac. I love you!
Thursday, August 11, 2011
Tangerine Dream
Oh my goodness.
You guys. Have you ever experienced love at first sight? I always thought it was an idea made up for movies and romance novels. But then today I experienced it for myself and I can tell you - it's the real thing.
Behold the object of my desire...
I found it on Anthropologie.com. Lucky for me there is a huge Anthropologie about a block away from my office. Guess where I'm stopping after work tonight?
Let's get real, I can't afford this dress. It's $358.00. But I just want to try it on and feel it against my skin. Admire the way it pinches in at the waist and flows out from there. Then I'll stand in front of the huge mirror staring at myself for 25 minutes while I imagine a world where I can drop $358.00 on a dress without blinking an eye and all the amazing places I'd be able to wear it.
I want.
You guys. Have you ever experienced love at first sight? I always thought it was an idea made up for movies and romance novels. But then today I experienced it for myself and I can tell you - it's the real thing.
Behold the object of my desire...
Yes, it's a dress.
An absolutely stunningly beautiful dress.
I love every single thing about it. The vibrant color, the gold embroidered embellishments, the deep V in the back. It's ladylike and demure, while still being eye-catching and sexy.
I found it on Anthropologie.com. Lucky for me there is a huge Anthropologie about a block away from my office. Guess where I'm stopping after work tonight?
Let's get real, I can't afford this dress. It's $358.00. But I just want to try it on and feel it against my skin. Admire the way it pinches in at the waist and flows out from there. Then I'll stand in front of the huge mirror staring at myself for 25 minutes while I imagine a world where I can drop $358.00 on a dress without blinking an eye and all the amazing places I'd be able to wear it.
I want.
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Saturday, August 6, 2011
A Tribute
My grandfather died in June.
I sat here for about 20 minutes trying to think of some clever and pretty way to segue into that, cushion the blow for you a little bit, but there really isn't one. And anyways, that's not what my grandfather was like. Straight to the point, sometimes harshly so, but always polite, always honest. I like to think that I have a little bit of that in me.
There wasn't any one particular cause of death. He got pneumonia from a complication with a surgery at Christmastime and never really recovered. It's harder to bounce back from something like that at 90 years old. He lived on his own up until then, completely independent and doin' his thang. But after the surgery and the pneumonia, that was no longer an option and he spent the last 6 months of his life he was in a nursing home. He hated it. He was confused most of the time and asked to go home constantly. I regret not being there when he passed away, but the rest of my family was there and they all said that he was peaceful. He was ready.
What a cool dude.
Poppa in uniform
I got the phone call the day after my birthday. June 16th. My mom called me at work and told me, voice trembling, that the priest had just left Poppa's bedside. That it would not be long. I probably should have gone home, but what would I have done there? Made myself sick worrying and feeling guilty that I was in Boston. So I stayed at work to keep myself busy. Later, on my way home, I spoke with my dad and he told me that Poppa was gone.
Now I know where I get my good looks and style from!
I went home immediately, of course. We went through boxes of old photos (which is where all of these amazing pictures came from!) and shared our stories, our memories. I put together three boards worth of photos. I did it by myself. It was quiet time that I spent alone with him, at least that's how it felt, and it allowed me to wrap my head around what had happened. His funeral mass was beautiful, and later, at the cemetery, he had a full military honor. As they opened his flag the sun came out from behind a cloud and lit the scene. It was one of the most beautiful and moving things I've ever seen in my life.
My grandfather was cremated, according to his wishes, and laid to rest directly above my grandmother's casket. Now we can all smile and laugh when we say that Poppa will be on top of Nanny for all of eternity, just like they would have wanted it.
When it was over, there were no more tears. I felt, in all honesty, a sense of relief. A sense of peace. My grandfather was a very religious man. He went to church every single day for (almost) his entire life. And while I might struggle sometimes with religion, I do believe in God. And as we left the cemetery I knew that he was at peace. He is in heaven. He is with my grandmother, with his parents and his brothers. He is with God.
So now, now that the sad times are over, I can look back at these old photos of Cosmo, my grandfather, and hold my memories of him close to my heart. I remember the way he laughed with no sound coming out. He loved coffee, we joked that we should put his ashes in a Folgers can, and used to eat his cereal in a bowl of coffee rather than milk. I remember him sitting at the end of my parent's dining table, a fork full of spaghetti in one hand and a huge chunk of bread in the other. How big his hands were, like bear paws. How he made me soup every single day for lunch because that's all I would eat at age four.
I think the phrase "Still waters run deep" was created about men like my Poppa. He was not an outwardly showy man, but the depth of his passion and love for his wife, his family, for life, was unmistakeable. I have never seen someone who loved so completely or so profoundly. He never needed to say it or flash it around, because you always knew it was there. It radiated out from him in waves. I have struggled with this, being able to verbalize and demonstrate my feelings. It's not until recently that I've realized you don't always have to. I'm so proud that I get that from him.
My grandparents again
Dancing to "Sexy Back" at my cousin's wedding last summer
Working the bar at my family's restaurant, The Oaks Inn, 1950's
Just the two of us, circa 1987
Ti voglio bene, Poppa. Rest in peace.
I sat here for about 20 minutes trying to think of some clever and pretty way to segue into that, cushion the blow for you a little bit, but there really isn't one. And anyways, that's not what my grandfather was like. Straight to the point, sometimes harshly so, but always polite, always honest. I like to think that I have a little bit of that in me.
There wasn't any one particular cause of death. He got pneumonia from a complication with a surgery at Christmastime and never really recovered. It's harder to bounce back from something like that at 90 years old. He lived on his own up until then, completely independent and doin' his thang. But after the surgery and the pneumonia, that was no longer an option and he spent the last 6 months of his life he was in a nursing home. He hated it. He was confused most of the time and asked to go home constantly. I regret not being there when he passed away, but the rest of my family was there and they all said that he was peaceful. He was ready.
What a cool dude.About ten years ago, my grandmother passed away. She had Parkinson's Disease (a disease so horrifying and debilitating that I would not wish it on my worst enemy) and eventually required more care than my grandfather could give her, so she spent the last year of her life in a nursing home. My grandfather got up every morning, ate breakfast and went to the nursing home. He sat with my grandmother all day and kept her company. As her disease progressed and robbed her of her speech, he sat there in silence with her and held her hand. Every single day.
My grandparents on their wedding day.
My grandparents on their wedding day.The last time I saw my grandfather was in May, almost a month to the day before he died. He was fairly lucid that day, and was so excited that I was there. He put his hands on my face and said, "Domenica! Look at you!" And then he hummed a little song. Before I left I told him I would be back in July and he squeezed both of my hands in his. "July," he said with a smile. "We'll set off some fireworks then."
Somewhere deep inside me, although I desperately did not want to believe it, I knew that I would not see him in July. I knew that although there would be fireworks, he would not be there to watch them with me. I turned back to wave goodbye to him before I left his room. With a startle I realized that there was no one else there with him. He was alone. And all I could think of was my grandmother so many years earlier. He was there to hold her hand, right til the end, but who was there to hold his? That walk, from his room to the elevator, felt like the longest 10 yards of my life.
Somewhere deep inside me, although I desperately did not want to believe it, I knew that I would not see him in July. I knew that although there would be fireworks, he would not be there to watch them with me. I turned back to wave goodbye to him before I left his room. With a startle I realized that there was no one else there with him. He was alone. And all I could think of was my grandmother so many years earlier. He was there to hold her hand, right til the end, but who was there to hold his? That walk, from his room to the elevator, felt like the longest 10 yards of my life.
Poppa in uniform
Now I know where I get my good looks and style from!I went home immediately, of course. We went through boxes of old photos (which is where all of these amazing pictures came from!) and shared our stories, our memories. I put together three boards worth of photos. I did it by myself. It was quiet time that I spent alone with him, at least that's how it felt, and it allowed me to wrap my head around what had happened. His funeral mass was beautiful, and later, at the cemetery, he had a full military honor. As they opened his flag the sun came out from behind a cloud and lit the scene. It was one of the most beautiful and moving things I've ever seen in my life.
My grandfather was cremated, according to his wishes, and laid to rest directly above my grandmother's casket. Now we can all smile and laugh when we say that Poppa will be on top of Nanny for all of eternity, just like they would have wanted it. When it was over, there were no more tears. I felt, in all honesty, a sense of relief. A sense of peace. My grandfather was a very religious man. He went to church every single day for (almost) his entire life. And while I might struggle sometimes with religion, I do believe in God. And as we left the cemetery I knew that he was at peace. He is in heaven. He is with my grandmother, with his parents and his brothers. He is with God.
So now, now that the sad times are over, I can look back at these old photos of Cosmo, my grandfather, and hold my memories of him close to my heart. I remember the way he laughed with no sound coming out. He loved coffee, we joked that we should put his ashes in a Folgers can, and used to eat his cereal in a bowl of coffee rather than milk. I remember him sitting at the end of my parent's dining table, a fork full of spaghetti in one hand and a huge chunk of bread in the other. How big his hands were, like bear paws. How he made me soup every single day for lunch because that's all I would eat at age four. 
I think the phrase "Still waters run deep" was created about men like my Poppa. He was not an outwardly showy man, but the depth of his passion and love for his wife, his family, for life, was unmistakeable. I have never seen someone who loved so completely or so profoundly. He never needed to say it or flash it around, because you always knew it was there. It radiated out from him in waves. I have struggled with this, being able to verbalize and demonstrate my feelings. It's not until recently that I've realized you don't always have to. I'm so proud that I get that from him. 
My grandparents again
Dancing to "Sexy Back" at my cousin's wedding last summer
Working the bar at my family's restaurant, The Oaks Inn, 1950'sI know this post has been very long and, in some parts, very sad. But I wanted to share it. My grandfather was an amazing man. Intelligent and funny and brave. He gave every part of himself for the people he loved. I hope that I can have a life half as full and rich as his. What an amazing example he has set for all of us.
Just the two of us, circa 1987Ti voglio bene, Poppa. Rest in peace.
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Summer Dinner
Sometimes it's just too hot to actually cook.
Voila! The perfect summer meal.
Buon appetito :)
Voila! The perfect summer meal. Buon appetito :)
Sunday, July 31, 2011
ModCloth Wish List
You guys already know this about me, so that's not really news.
I check the site multiple times a day to view the newest frocks, vote in their amazing Be the Buyer program, and add even more into my shopping cart. I have a wish list that's 5 pages long and counting. In my head I already own all of these items and I imagine all the fabulous places I'll go and things I'll do while I'm wearing a dress picked directly from my fantasy wardrobe.
I mean LOOK at these shoes! I die. Believe it or not - and let's be honest, this is a big, fat NOT - summer is already drawing to a close. And while I'm enjoying soaking up every ray of sunshine my pale porcelain skin can handle, I've got one eye on the fall fashions and my (fantasy) fall wardrobe.
Fall is my favorite season by far. There's something romantic about a warm, sunny day that turns into a breezy afternoon and ends in a chilly evening snuggled on the couch with someone special. I love the leaves, the smells, the colors, the textures. Everything. And I want my wardrobe to reflect all of that. So here are some of the pieces in my dream wardrobe from ModCloth that I will own one day.
On a warmer day, paired with skinny jeans and ballet flats.
Imagine this one with a red cardigan, grey tights and my grey Mary Janes with the little bows on them. 
Chocolate tights, nude pumps and this necklace:
And how pretty and romantic is this shirt?
I want to go apple picking and pair this dress...
This one...
With a long, soft cardigan and gold flats.
This amazing motorcycle jacket (I am dying over the color!), over this feminine and flowy dress.
Can't you see it with long, gold rope necklaces and dark brown booties?
This gorgeous sweater dress paired with tights and calf-high boots for brunch, shopping and an afternoon curled up with a wonderful book.
How perfect for cocktails out with the girls, right?
With a long, soft cardigan and gold flats.
This amazing motorcycle jacket (I am dying over the color!), over this feminine and flowy dress. 
This gorgeous sweater dress paired with tights and calf-high boots for brunch, shopping and an afternoon curled up with a wonderful book. 
How perfect for cocktails out with the girls, right? Hair pulled up, sparkly earrings, sparkly shoes. Perfect.
Paired with a black turtle neck and black shiny patent leather pumps.
Paired with a black turtle neck and black shiny patent leather pumps. Hellooooo, Joan Halloway!
I just love the simplicity of this these little cream dress. It's just Pretty.
I just love the simplicity of this these little cream dress. It's just Pretty. Yes, with a capital P.
And these. I mean.. I just.. Come on, it's not even fair.
And these. I mean.. I just.. Come on, it's not even fair. Alright, spill. Which fall fashions do you have your eye (and heart set) on?
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Food Trucks
Food trucks. They're all the rage these days, no?
Lucky for me, there is a spot reserved speficially for food trucks right outside the building where I work. The other day I decided it was high time I check it out, and boy am I glad I did!
This colorful little vehicle de cuisine was blasting some great raggae/island music and has an impressive menu of sea food themed dishes. As I scanned my eyes down the menu, I suddenly saw:
It was like that scene in the movie where the record stops abruptly and everyone at the party whips their heads around to stare. Spiedies. Spiedies?!
For those who need a refresher, I'll direct you here.
The minute I got up to the window I asked the man where he was from. He grew up in Binghamton! The people in line behind me laughed out loud as I yelped out an emphatic, "ME TOO!" We chit-chatted a bit. He told me he was thinking of making just a spiedie truck. A whole TRUCK that serves ONLY spiedies. Helloooo?!
Delicious! A little taste of home right here in the heart of Boston. He souped them up a little bit by adding a cucumber and red onion relish on top of the spiedies. Honestly, as good as it was, I could have done without it. There's nothing better than the plain, old fashioned original.
I also went back the next day for the fish & chips (to die for!) and a lemonade. YUMMO.
Any great food trucks in your area that you'd recommend?
Lucky for me, there is a spot reserved speficially for food trucks right outside the building where I work. The other day I decided it was high time I check it out, and boy am I glad I did!
This colorful little vehicle de cuisine was blasting some great raggae/island music and has an impressive menu of sea food themed dishes. As I scanned my eyes down the menu, I suddenly saw:
It was like that scene in the movie where the record stops abruptly and everyone at the party whips their heads around to stare. Spiedies. Spiedies?! For those who need a refresher, I'll direct you here.
The minute I got up to the window I asked the man where he was from. He grew up in Binghamton! The people in line behind me laughed out loud as I yelped out an emphatic, "ME TOO!" We chit-chatted a bit. He told me he was thinking of making just a spiedie truck. A whole TRUCK that serves ONLY spiedies. Helloooo?!
Delicious! A little taste of home right here in the heart of Boston. He souped them up a little bit by adding a cucumber and red onion relish on top of the spiedies. Honestly, as good as it was, I could have done without it. There's nothing better than the plain, old fashioned original.
I also went back the next day for the fish & chips (to die for!) and a lemonade. YUMMO.
Any great food trucks in your area that you'd recommend?
Monday, July 25, 2011
Hiatus
Hallooo!
I've been gone a long time. I'm sorry. If you read my blog, then you know that sometimes I do that. I disappear for a little while. It doesn't meant I don't love you anymore. It just means that I'm staying true to the one guideline I gave myself when I started the blog:
I have had a kind of crazy couple months. I haven't felt moved to write and share the inner workings of my brain lately. And I know that would definitely come across in my writing. I don't want to bore you with half-hearted posts. You deserve better than that.
So, for anyone out there who may be waiting with baited breath for my next post, I'm back. It's so nice to see you again.
Domenica
I've been gone a long time. I'm sorry. If you read my blog, then you know that sometimes I do that. I disappear for a little while. It doesn't meant I don't love you anymore. It just means that I'm staying true to the one guideline I gave myself when I started the blog:
"Be still when you have nothing to say; when genuine passion moves you,
say what you've got to say, and say it hot."
say what you've got to say, and say it hot."
I have had a kind of crazy couple months. I haven't felt moved to write and share the inner workings of my brain lately. And I know that would definitely come across in my writing. I don't want to bore you with half-hearted posts. You deserve better than that.
So, for anyone out there who may be waiting with baited breath for my next post, I'm back. It's so nice to see you again.
Domenica
Thursday, May 5, 2011
Reality TV and a Bonfire
If you know me at all you know how much I love TV. Love it. Especially reality shows. God, I seriously cannot get enough.
Lucky for me, Hannah shares the same obsession. While I was in Wales she introduced me to an AMAZING British reality show called The Only Way Is Essex. I may have become obsessed. I maybe may have made the theme song my ring tone. NBD. The show is a look into the lives of a group of shallow, spoiled, and altogether idiotic 20-somethings living in Essex, England. In other words, reality TV gold.
And while Hannah's Welsh friends didn't think too much of TOWIE (that's what us cool kids call it), they were so intrigued by American reality television. This led to me watching all three seasons of Laguna Beach while I was in Wales.
Yes, you read that correctly. Laguna Beach.
I'll be honest, I never actually watched Laguna Beach while it was on. I didn't even start watching The Hills until the last couple seasons. It was hilarious to watch the kids on the show, mostly because I'm the exact same age as them, and their high school experience couldn't have been more different than mine.
This led to a probing interview by Hannah's friend Sarah, a Welsh girl who can't get enough of American reality TV (a girl after my own heart!), about what American high schools are really like. The most important question she had was whether or not we had as many beach bonfires as the crew of Laguna Beach.
Considering I grew up in upstate New York, I found this question to be hilarious.
Nope. No beach bonfires for me.
But since we were in Swansea, and since Hannah lives on the beach, we decided to have a Laguna style beach bonfire of our own. We roasted hot dogs and made s'mores - a completely alien concept to my new Welsh friends! - and huddled around the fire until it burned down to nothing.
Swansea Beach
Swansea Conservatory
Bonfire!
It was fun. Freezing, but fun. But honestly? I'd rather be applying lip gloss at the Sugar Hut with Amy and the rest of TOWIE.
Lucky for me, Hannah shares the same obsession. While I was in Wales she introduced me to an AMAZING British reality show called The Only Way Is Essex. I may have become obsessed. I maybe may have made the theme song my ring tone. NBD. The show is a look into the lives of a group of shallow, spoiled, and altogether idiotic 20-somethings living in Essex, England. In other words, reality TV gold.
And while Hannah's Welsh friends didn't think too much of TOWIE (that's what us cool kids call it), they were so intrigued by American reality television. This led to me watching all three seasons of Laguna Beach while I was in Wales.Yes, you read that correctly. Laguna Beach.
I'll be honest, I never actually watched Laguna Beach while it was on. I didn't even start watching The Hills until the last couple seasons. It was hilarious to watch the kids on the show, mostly because I'm the exact same age as them, and their high school experience couldn't have been more different than mine.
This led to a probing interview by Hannah's friend Sarah, a Welsh girl who can't get enough of American reality TV (a girl after my own heart!), about what American high schools are really like. The most important question she had was whether or not we had as many beach bonfires as the crew of Laguna Beach.
Considering I grew up in upstate New York, I found this question to be hilarious.
Nope. No beach bonfires for me.
But since we were in Swansea, and since Hannah lives on the beach, we decided to have a Laguna style beach bonfire of our own. We roasted hot dogs and made s'mores - a completely alien concept to my new Welsh friends! - and huddled around the fire until it burned down to nothing.
Swansea Beach
Swansea Conservatory
Bonfire!
It was fun. Freezing, but fun. But honestly? I'd rather be applying lip gloss at the Sugar Hut with Amy and the rest of TOWIE.
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