The Perils and Pitfalls of Small Towns

Here's a story for you: I'm off to my cousin's college graduation party in Massachusetts with my mother this past June. Fearing the Deviled Eggs had fallen over in the back seat, my mother pulled over on Main Street in my quaint, New England hometown. I jumped out to check on the damage. As I got to the back of the car, I felt something piercing my left foot, just at the edge of my heel where the sole of my sandal ended. Thinking I had just stepped on a bee, I took the most appropriate action and shook my foot away from my body as though I was possessed in order not to see or touch anything insect-y (I may have grown up in the country, but I live in NYC now - we don't interact with nature on a daily basis). When that did nothing to stop the supposed bee attacker, I finally looked down to see a used medical needle sticking out of my foot. 

The lady of the hour.

I plucked the thing out of my foot, looked at it and thought, "Well, shit." It's one of those moments when you hurt yourself or witness an emergency where you have to remind yourself that you need to act. "I just saw someone get beaten up, cue the 'I should call the police' reaction." "I just burned half of my hand off, cue the 'I should seek medical attention' thought." I held it up, walked back to the passenger side window (I did manage to check that the Deviled Eggs were ok. Priorities), and after explaining to my mom said, "I think this is the part where we go to the ER."

And We'll Never be Royal

The second to last day of April in 2011, as I recall, was slightly overcast. I woke up to chaos as I had to move out of my Junior year apartment by 6pm that night. I got up at some insane hour and went to inspect the damage and to check on the one thing that had definitely not been packed up yet: the enormous 15 year old TV inherited from my roommate's boyfriend's family. I, along with 23 million Americans and an estimated two billion people on the planet, got up to watch the British Royal Wedding. Flash forward four and a half years later, I have a bit of a hidden royal obsession. Hidden because I'm pretty sure being overly knowledgeable about the Royal family and trying to pass as a well adjusted, young professional, twenty-something New Yorker, do not go hand-in-hand.

My roommate from Junior year and best friend who now lives in DC, knows this hidden royal obsession, because she shares the same fascination. So when Clarence House tweeted how the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge were coming to NYC this month, she texted me the tweet in no time flat:

The Duke and Duchess of Cambridge will visit the USA between 7th and 9th December 2014
— Clarence House (@ClarenceHouse) November 14, 2014

Welcome to 25

I'm looking at my first full week of being 25. My birthday inevitably falls near Thanksgiving each year, offering an opportunity to give thanks for making it another year and for all of the love and kindness I receive on my birthday. This year is no different, but is it just me or are you supposed to have more figured out by the time you turn 25 - as though, even now it still feels like I'm playing at being an adult.