Mast Brothers Chocolate.

Tasted our first Mast Brothers Chocolate last night… incroyable. My notes:

Sweet battles savory. Dark and gamey, nutty and bitter. It chips like slate and lets off the most satisfying crack between your teeth—think the exact opposite of a Hersey’s bar. I hate Halloween, and I hate Halloween candy, but, if this was handed out, I would gladly wear a costume and work the neighborhood. This includes the hand-made dirty tampon costume that a girl wore to my high school, resulting in her suspension.

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The Royal Spins

This was the best weekend.

Beer and bluegrass on Friday; wine and turntables on Saturday. I brought a couple of bottles for our host—a gift that paled in comparison to a pile of vintage records, one of which was a commemorative recording of Charles and Diana’s royal wedding. Top that. When mixed with the right beats, the stuffy drone of Archbishop Robert Runcie can infuse energy into any evening.

This morning I was discussing with Carey whether the video I made could be perceived as offensive, but I decided it was too funny to care:

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On staying out of jail: D.C. photo journal.

[The sun sets over Maryland.]

I called my parents at 8:45 am from D.C. this past Saturday to check in. This is what good daughters do; they place regular phone calls home to verify safety and well-being. I was standing on a low brick wall across from an Irish pub in Arlington, VA, hundreds of runners in various shades of green milling around below me as I stuck a finger in one ear and pressed my phone up to the other.

“I’m at a race,” I shouted, “there’s a leprechaun on a scooter bike, I’m having a Guinness for breakfast. How are you guys?”

In the background, I heard my mom: “Washington? She’s not calling from jail again, is she?”

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Photo journal: BKNYC

I just returned from a whirlwind trip to Brooklyn for the weekend. I wore headphones on the car ride down because the salty Vermont roads created a piercingly squeaky wheel that was head-splittingly annoying at all speeds with the exception of less than 3 mph and a slight lull at about 27. This didn’t leave me with much to work with. I managed to turn a lot of heads as I buzzed through the rest areas. I brought the old girl through a carwash in NJ on the way home—peace was reinstated for the trek home.

In a manner consistant with all good visits to BK, I ate great food in excessive quantities, shared in fine spirits with friends, and toured the town by foot. I even bought a vinyl record for Carey, and let my hair look a bit tussled (but not dirty) like a good hipster.

[Dinner at Dressler. Lamb shanks and pork bellies. Pinot Noir, old world and new. We took advantage of the corkage fee and brought our own.]

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Ice in March.

The power flickered, but held. The birches bent—like some stupid poem—and the windows glazed. The morning was beautiful and with a blue sky and a little salt on the roads, the storm was over. All was well, and lovely. But all was not well, and had I known that the same storm had killed my cousin’s best friend, I wouldn’t have taken a single picture.

I only met George once and briefly, so I can’t speak of him personally, but 19 is far too young, and he was loved very much by his friends and family.

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A higher power.

Let me just cut right to the chase: we were accosted by a lunatic. In the underwear section. Of Saks Fifth Avenue.

I was aware of what appeared to be some manageable absurdity while I was being rung up for a new bra. (“I don’t know, the underwire seems to have… evaporated,” “Mmhmm, yes, Miss Carey, I sure have had this happen to me before. Now take that old thing off; and don’t worry, I’m a fitter, not a looker.”) I could hear bits and pieces—“I just, I can’t seem to keep my emotions in check, but you are just such a dear, dear girl… someone sent you here to me. A higher power.”

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Railroad Revival Tour.

This is utterly fantastic:

And if you haven’t seen the documentary, Festival Express, check out this post and get it ASAP.

The need to see this tour is strong in this one.

This April, Mumford & Sons, Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros, and Old Crow Medicine Show will embark on a tour unlike any in recent memory. Traveling exclusively in vintage rail cars, the three bands will journey across the American Southwest over the course of a week. The aptly titled Railroad Revival Tour will feature the three bands playing concerts at six unique outdoor locations along the route, beginning April 21st in Oakland, California.

Two other minor points of nerdery: as the daughter of a railroad guy, anything train-related has my attention. As the writer of a web company, I am totally digging this little site.

-Carey

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My kind of town.

Hello, old friend. So nice to see you again. Dear blue line, I poured my heart out to you so many times. We lurched away from things together. Remember?

And here I am again, a different woman, a CTA rookie again (!), and you’re containing for once a person I can’t wait to see!

Looks like we’ve both done well for ourselves.

Proof that miracles do exist, I’m here to see a friend I met through this very blog. Worth every hit of the past 2 years, and more!

Over and out.
-Carey

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Look up.

This absolutely took my breath away today:

Team Edward! Or something like that, right?
-Carey

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Hapgood Pond, Peru VT

The last time I was at Hapgood Pond in Peru, VT I was 13 years old. Highlights of the weekend were the multiple bee stings I incurred after one became trapped in my t-shirt, a run-in with a park ranger for carrying around my pellet gun, and a beaver sighting. It was a damn good time, and my trusty canoe took that pond by storm. It’s amazing how big bodies of water tend to be when they’re sitting in your memory—especially those from childhood. Somehow I actually managed to feel pretty independent motoring from shore to shore, reed bank to reed bank—I spent hours not really getting anywhere, like a mouse on a wheel. I should have at least capitalized on my route and smoked a doobie in the weeds… oh, well.

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You’ll have to forgive me.

[Sustenance at Northshire Bookstore; currently consuming the above while soaking up the sanity that is other people’s conversations.]

I went to check the mail today and found a BAZAAR and, it was as if, until that moment, I’d completely forgotten that I even had a blog, let alone a blog that talks about clothes. Clothes!

Ever had that weird, backwards warp-out feeling in front of your computer, where you feel like you’re experiencing lift-off and the screen gets small and your arms feel disconnected and someone’s opened a flap in the back of your head and—wwhhiiiiuurrp—your brain is being lightly sucked from your skull? Don’t get me wrong, it’s sort of a pleasurable feeling, if you give in to it.

So that sums up life a little bit. I haven’t been able to find the headspace to blog (even in moments of my brain being intact and not slurped from noggin). It’s like straining a finger. In the moment and the days that follow, you can’t imagine ever getting back full range of motion. You look at your little digit and plead some, commiserate—“and when you get better, we’ll get to smear on eyeshadow together again!”—and know somewhere deep down that, outside of that moment, things won’t be so dire.

I promise to blog again. I think. Somehow I need to close the head flap first. Open to suggestions—slouchy beanie hats? Duct tape?

-Carey

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Valentine’s Day: The Reluctant Panther

Valentine’s Day doesn’t have to suck. For years I was a bit of a loner so I didn’t have to battle for dinner reservations and overpriced roses, and I never went to Jared. Now, it’s not so bad. I still don’t buy cards, and Carey doesn’t care about chocolate. But when February rolls around, my mouth does start to water at the thought of plumping goose livers and grass-fed beasts. I realized this is a holiday I could truly enjoy, and I can still avoid Build-a-Bears, pajama-grams, heart-shaped anything (most importantly, gold-dipped roses). Basically, any hyphenated gifts.

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This baby doesn’t like the bouquet on the house red.

Hilarious. And vaguely familiar.

-C+R

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Warm memories.

2 months later, we’re finally getting around to posting some pictures from our trip last December, after dropping a few here and there.

SeaDream was absolutely the best experience traveling I’ve ever had—incredible people (hi, Xander & friends!), the food was out of control, and every detail was perfection. We’d do it again in a heartbeat. Pure bliss.

Quickly, I’d like to mention something about this phenomenal boat. There were times I felt as if it were our very own. You can’t put a price on that.

My family has never done a ‘cruise’ before and this certainly didn’t fall under that category. At any given moment, you could find an entire section of the boat and have it all to yourself. That is, save the friendly, good-humored, attentive staff who know you by name and are always there with a smile or a cold beverage. I’m smiling just thinking about all the amazing people I met.

My favorite of all was a handsome South African with a smile and the wit to match, who would surprise me by popping up behind me and singing, “Mrs. Burden…” to the tune of “Like a Virgin.” I knew at that moment they’d have to pry me off the boat with a spatula come departure day.

[Breakfast. When we got home I lamented, “But who will bring me my truffle omelette? Nicholas?”]

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2011 Manchester Chili Challenge.

So I went to my first chili cook-off last week.

I ate 25 little cups with varying degrees of spice and meat assemblage including beef, turkey, duck (I think), wild boar, venison, and lamb (I also think). The evening was genius and concluded with a very restless night’s sleep and bubble guts that spilled over into the next day. Was it worth it? Yes! But in retrospect, there was no need for seconds—that was just foolish.

[Many of the finest dining establishments in Manchester brought chili to the contest, held at the Equinox Resort. Local schools, clubs, and organizations made a damn good showing too—especially the kids at the Long Trail School.]

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Egads! I do love my blog.

Ha! This is why I love blogging. Look at the fantastic people you meet, and you can already rest assured they share your sensibilities. It’s like a built-in friend finder. I adore this girl:

Blog friends? Be mine this V Day? How I do love yous.

-Carey

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A quick plea.

[Brian Doyle, Chris Jiron, Christine!!!, me, Rob, and Jesse Lange of Lange Estate Winery]

I’m a firm believer in following your dreams. No dream is too big or too small! Sometimes my lifelong dream is to sleep in. In more ambitious moments, I dream of being able to drink Gatorade while running without getting it in my eye. Other dreams include: writing a book, playing the bass guitar in a band, visiting the Caboodle Ranch, and trying my hand at musical theater (Ha!).

Dreams I admire the most are the ones that require a lot of risk, and thus a lot of heart. A vision to honestly make something out of nothing—adding something to the fabric of the universe. And if you’re going to add something, please God, let it be more wine. That’s why I’m totally happy to ask that you go log onto your Facebizzle and Like this page, and vote for this business plan.

At 24, I’m the youngest person in Oregon with a winery license. I’ve poured my meager savings and energy into my wine brand, Cipher Cellars, and am awaiting my 1st release of 100 cases this summer. With this money, I’d not only like to increase production and marketing, but I’d launch Southern Oregon as the next BIG wine region. Raise a glass to no longer making wine paycheck to paycheck!

See, we met Christine out in Oregon and if her wine is anything like her personality, I’m all for it. She’s energetic, enthusiastic and all-around awesome. Go like her plan. Now!

-Carey

p.s. From the first time I met Christine… and the awesome night we all spent in Oregon, including an incredible dinner.

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Halos and horns.

I received two superbly incredible things for my birthday this year. And this was one of them:

So…, antlers? Little antlers!* This is why Rob is an incredible gift giver: tiny mounted antlers from Germany’s Black Forest. 

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More on that soup shack.

This may seem like a little photo overkill for a post about a soup place (without any photos of the soup, to boot), but for someone who has a tremor, I’m super proud of these:

Smokin’ Bowls: the lazy wife’s savior during a blizzard.

Shoot the moose if I’m not tired of telling you about the weather, but on this particular night, after hitting Rob with a “no food in the fridge, dude,” just when he’d managed to pull into the driveway after 7, tire-spinning attempts, our options were indeed limited by the drama of the snow.

Pfff—of course. Our favorite hashish-humored soup shack.

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Staying in and going out.

The best of both worlds in one night: staying in and going out. Because going out means driving a few yards down the mountain and over a small hill to get beers at Johnny See Saw’s.

Act I. Staying in.

Rob says “I’ll never get another wine glass,” referring to these Oregon Pinot Noir glasses I got him for Christmas. They are fantastic, by the way.

I was late coming back from Saratoga, where I went to do fun things like return the cable box, deposit checks, mail some things, visit the office for a few hours, and seek out the source a funkdified smell coming from our (empty?) home. Super. Rob met me at the door with a glass of wine and we parked by the fire so I could unwind after an hour+ behind the high beams.

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Rules to live by in an arctic territory.

Rule #1. Sustenance is key.

[Tea from clever avian tea set.]

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Postcards from the edge.

So I came about this close to losing it today. Can’t say what triggered it—low blood sugar or the bottling up and distraction from all the stress of the move—but there I was, pouring my second cup of coffee in an empty house, glitter snow swirling around the windows like mica… and my chin started to dance.

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What’s Up Doc San Francisco chase scene.

Because it’s the best bike/car chase scene in film history. 3:08 to 4:05 makes me sob with laughter every time… Happy Chinese New Year!

We’re watching my What’s Up Doc DVD right now by the fire… kind of perfect.

-Carey

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Hey, nineteen.

Quick recap of my passage into my third decade:

[My fantastic new vintage squash blossom necklace.]

I’d go into our riveting match of Pictionary, but I wouldn’t want to paint my family in a light that portrays us as genitalia- or toilet-obsessed. So here I am in a rare forlorn-looking moment. Or maybe I’m ogling the presents on the coffee table.

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Scenes from a new life.

Apologies for the prolonged absence, my wine-loving compadres. We have a multitude of excellent excuses! Allow me to share some thoughts and photos from the first 3 days on the mountain.

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