It's a pretty good song

This weekend was Gaslight Anthem weekend! And by Gaslight Anthem weekend, I mean Keith and I made use of my Valentine's Day present and saw their show at the Troc. I also mean that they moved to number one on the list of Kristin's favorite bands. I have this rule that I can't call a band a favorite until I see them live. (There are a handful of exceptions to this rule, but I'm working on them.) Obviously, Gaslight passed to the max. Keith I were standing between another pair of couples. Throughout the entire show, I'm fairly sure there wasn't a moment where at least one of us three girls wasn't looking over her shoulder saying to her boyfriend, "sorry, I'm in love. With Brian Fallon." I giggled every single time. And, seriously. How could you not be? If Bruce were our age right now and making music, it'd be this. And everybody loves Bruce.

I'm obviously still swooning. I can't think of a better show I've seen (save maybe a Bruce show or two).

PS: No, the trees are still not planted.

The first snow of spring.

Today was supposed to be tree-planting day. Instead, the first words out of my mouth this morning were, "WHAT IS THAT?" For some reason, my brain refused to compute the fact that "THAT" white fluffy stuff falling from the sky and sticking to the grass and the car I'd soon by cleaning off was snow. Snow! Today is the first day of spring! March is supposed to come IN like a lion and go OUT like a lamb, not the other way around! What the heck is going on here, Mother Nature?? Baby redwoods do not do well in snow!! So now we'll have to wait until the ground warms up which will, I think, be by tomorrow. Whew. The second day of spring is not so bad for tree-planting (everytime I type "planting," (even that time) my fingers instead write, "playing.").

This blog has become a tree-blog. I think that makes me a little weird. I'm okay with it.

Redwood Update 3

This is a photo of my tree from a few days ago, back when he had far fewer leaves and was a mere 11 and a a half inches tall. He's up to twelve now at his tippy-top branch! 

I keep him by this window because it's so bright upstairs (an artist once tried to buy my house simply because of the bright sunlight that this room gets) and because he can look outside at those trees that he'll someday be able to stomp on. It's motivation. 

As you can see, I keep a glass of water nearby, and a ruler. This enables me to encourage, and measure, his growth on a regular basis. I wish it were a sunnier day when this photo was taken because this one makes it look like I live in a dark and scary place. I promise, I don't. Mr. Tree has a great home. 

YFB

Today Lis and I were having a conversation about tonight (that sentence was really lame). Here comes the (very poorly remembered) script. 

Me: Where will you be tonight?

Lis: Blahblahblah (I forget where she said), but we'll be moving around. 

Me: Ugh, I'm still trying to figure out what to do, because I am broke and have work - but not until 1030!

Lis: I am poor, too, AND have work at 815. 

And this is the moment I realized, and so told Lis, that Susie Orman is right, after all: We ARE young, fabulous, and broke. 

Disclaimer: I actually can't stand Susie Orman. In this situation, though, I cannot deny her rightness. So, instead of actually BUYING her book for the YFB, I suggest that you get a mom-like friend (Lisbeth V. Fagan) and borrow hers. 

Weekend.

This past weekend was like wearing your mom's pearls or slapping on heels for no reason: Keith and I spent it downtown, playing grown up. 

After a Friday night of shopping (I, Kristin N. Rotondo, visited Urban and only bought two pairs of sandals!), we woke up Saturday and hopped on the train, checked in to floor number 25 of the Sheraton, and got dressed up all fancy-like for dinner at Ruth's Chris. We ate too much and were asleep before eleven (told you we played grown-up). He'll probably write a much more detailed account of the weekend. It all seems like one fancily-clad blur to me.

And now I've got to go find a green shirt. 

Moving?

A while back, my mom had a realtor come look at our house, "just to price it," she said, "you know, just for fun." She'd also said, "I won't sell for less than $400,000." Naturally, what does the realtor price our house at? $400,000.

We're putting a sign in the ground.

I do not want to move. Not even a little bit. I'm twenty-two years old and I feel like a third-grader refusing to switch schools in the middle of the year.

Redwood Update 2

Mr. Tree (I'm about as name-creative right now as a three-year-old who can't let go of "blankie.") is 11.75 inches tall!!! He's growing!!! I know this is what trees do, but I was still surprised and excited that this thing that relies on me for growth is actually growing!!! PLUS! he's sprouting leaves! Again, something trees tend to do, but still thrilling.

Redwood Update

Tree Alert: My tree is 11.5 inches tall. I considered using centimeters as it is generally deemed more scientific because that's what real scientists use, but I opted out for two reasons: 1) I am not a scientist and 2) more people who may read this can relate to inches.

As for an update, you should all know I made a crucial mistake (GASP!) in my last post: our redwoods need not to be MM, but simply M!!! I think that I have remedied the situation, watering the little guy aplenty last night, but I will worry for him until he grows nice and tall (appromately 50 years).

Godzilla is smaller than our trees (will be).

This weekend was several things: packed, Lis-and-Keith-oriented, expensive, and incredibly (insert intelligent-sounding synonym of "fun" here).

I will chronicle it now.

Saturday started with McDonald's breakfast. Anyone who knows me knows, too, that I adore the occasional (weekly) McDonald's breakfast. Sausage, egg, and cheese on a bagel. A hashbrown and some orange juice if I'm feeling extra breakfasty. Deeeelicious. I only eat about half of my sandwich with the egg, and then I remove it and feed it to whichever boy is nearest me. It's bizarre, I know. Ask me how I eat a Reese's cup or a soft pretzel. Post-McDonald's breakfast should have been Shamrock Shuttle. This should have been a 22-year-old's dream come true: a ten dollar refillable cup and a bus to take you wherever you may want to go? Perhaps sad but true, Keith and I skipped it and opted instead for sandal-shopping and attempting to find Washington's Crossing State Park (which I'm still not sure we ever did). Some things that, embarrassingly, happened there: 1. I was scared of the woods, and 2. of a bridge. 3. We saw a field and couldn't stop commenting on how gigantic it was. 4. We justified this excitement to ourselves by saying it was because the grass was yellow. 5. We walked into a steamroller-looking yellow truck. A successful park trip, I'd say (and we're experts). Afterwards was Victor's birthday celebration and another embarrassing series of events for some persons. It was at a karaoke bar: enough said.

Sunday. Flower Show day!!! First IHOP, then Flower Show. Possibly the coolest place on earth. After finding Lis (NOT under an archway), I bought too much, avoided a four-dollar-and-seventy-five-cents hot dog even though my hunger was overwhelming (opting instead for two pairs of earrings I most certainly don't need and four bookmarks), and giggled at Keith's humongousness next to tiny furniture. Oh, and we bought trees. And by trees, I don't mean any silly bonsais (though they told us we could turn them into bonsais. Pish, pash!), but instead a pair of 150-foot Redwoods. We started out by looking at plants. Then Keith said, "Hey! Look over there! They're bigger!" So, we looked and quickly purchased. I have included a drawing by the wonderful Keith Maynard to give some scale to just what 150 feet translates to (for Tim: the picture is of a VERY tall tree. Next to it are Godzilla, who is about three-quarters of the size of the tree, and very, very, very small and on the other side of the tree, Keith and I, dancing. Above the tree is a rocket ship ("because it is 2084") and an anti-Godzilla missile. The photo is captioned: "In the year 2084."). These suckers live up to 1200 years and can grow to be twenty-five feet wide. All they need is to be MM and to remain in S (that means moderately moist and in full sun). I will post at least weekly about the current height and perhaps width of my tree. I believe Keith will do the same (the copier (just kidding (sort of))). His is the tall one (obviously), mine has an extra branch. They're best friends. I am not home to take the beginning measurement, but I will be sure to do so as soon as I arrive home. Perhaps next time I'll include a photo as well. After the Flower Show, Lis, Keith, and I went to Field House, which is a Kristin-and-Lis favorite (I am really on a roll with the hyphens in this blog, huh? (And, come to think of it, parentheses, too)). Chesapeake fries and cocktails and burgers, oh my! Post-THAT, Keith and I said ta-ta to Lis, and made an impromptu visit to Rittenhouse because Keith refused to leave the city. So, in my shorts in March, off we went to sit on a bench and watch art students and toddlers and puppies. A fabulous end to a wonderful weekend. Siiigh.

A poem by Tim

Tim wrote this poem. Suzanne Monaghan is his MOST favorite news anchor. Here's why:

Suzanne is the best of all KYW 1060 anchors
Here's a poem about her.
Sue comes on Monday night,
Believe me, her newscasts are more then all right.
I always pray I'll also get to hear her on Sundays.
Sue is the best of all the rest
The greatest lady around who gives news to Philly's downtown
her voice resonates into the 'burbs, the city, and believe me,
I'm sure Suzanne looks very pretty
I listen to Suzanne on my boom box and believe me,
this news anchor really rocks
Suzanne gives you traffic and weather,
but sometimes they're bunched together
Suzanne gives you news you can use
Bottom line, Suzanne Monaghan is fine

Bribery

Most of the following things will not make sense in relation to one another. I will make this okay by numbering them.

1. I'm being bribed now by two people instead of one to write in here. This means that I will do double the writing.
2. The previous sentence is probably not going to turn out to be true. I will start updating regularly in order to get Andes mints and ice cream, but after that wears off, I will pull a John Wilson and make everyone sad by not posting.
3. I am finally, finally, finally going to pick up my new glasses tonight. This marks the third night in a row that I've had plans to pick them up. Third time's a charm. I love new glasses. The world seems so much brighter, plus it's a challenge because the frame is different.
4. Today Tim and I meant to go to Coco Loco. We didn't and instead feasted on York Peppermint Patties and Andes mints. These are two of my most favorite treats. Unfortunately, the aforementioned eaten candy was meant to be the beginning of our secret candy stash. We'll start fresh tomorrow.

I hope this deserves a mint.

Summer tease

Today I turned the page in Tim's homework book to this week instead of last. Because it's March, the pages are lined in pink and sprinkled with photographs of roses. This excited me until I looked out the window and was temporarily blinded by sun-on-snow.

The science room is uncomfortably warm. It's like a forty-seven minute tease.

Watching the snow melt off of bare tree branches has a similar effect: "Hey! Stuff's melting and the sun is shining! Must be spring! Not."

Keith and I spent a good portion of today daydreaming about our upcoming summer. It's neat because it'll be our fourth summer of knowing the other exists, our third (though not consecutive) in consistently close quarters, but our first as Kristin and Keith. So now, instead of quick post-work ice cream dates and trips to the movies that only Victor remembers, we'll... well, we'll still enjoy those things but this time we'll do it as boyfriend and girlfriend. Here's our summertime to-do list thus far:

Theme park
Beach
Camping
Picnic
Film silly movies
Churchville Nature Center
Philadelphia Zoo
Walk downtown
Barbecue
Train adventures
Windows-down driving with music on
Painting Keith's fence
Baseball games
Valley Forge
Roadtrip

Probably most of these are on 90% of the summer to-do lists in the world, but we're still in the everything-is-new-and-exciting phase. Forgive us.

I can't wait to put on a sundress.

Snow??

There's a forcast of six inches or more of snow tonight. And while everyone's thrilled about the possibility of a day off, all I want is spring. I know I've got nineteen days until the OFFICIAL spring, and I know March "comes in like a lion, goes out like a lamb," (blah, blah, blah) but I want it now! I want to get woken up by birds in the morning instead of by my snow-dusted cat, I want to be able to walk through the park holding hands instead of mittens, I want to sit on my porch wearing a dress instead of a parka.

Now, don't get me wrong, I LOVE the snow, more than probably a solid 95% of the population, but March does NOT equal snow time. It means roses and sunshine and green grass, not white. It means picnics and cardigans and I'm-going-to-wear-these-flip-flops-even-though-it's-a-little-too-chilly-for-flip-flops. Last night, my mom went to bed saying, "tomorrow's March! I'm going to putz around in the yard, cleaning things up a bit, like I always do come March." Now, we're watching the pre-blizzard snow melt and muddy up the yard. Tomorrow, we'll be shoveling the driveway.

All that said, if tomorrow does wind up being a snow day, I'll be the first one outside building Roger 2.0.