Plymouth Rocks, Plymouth Pebbles

And then there was Stephen. A commuter rail malfunction to the middle of no where with some sketch-tastic rail riders into finally riding backwards into our destination was totally worth it to see this one.

Sorry for the poor quality of this cellular photo but I just had to document this trip and the fact that I made it, I came to New England, I came to Steve. And letmejusttellyou, Steve love-love-loves the amount of pictures I take of him. This post is going to be a surprise to him, especially when I tell that not even half the photos I snapped are present. Sorry Steve, I'm a crazy with a camera.

So we went to Bertucci's for dinner because with Shan and Steve just talking about it made the decision. Then we went back to Steve's house where, don't worry, the lights were on and all were so very hospitable to us.

And the next morning, we slept in (Steve woke up at seven.) and then this happened. No seriously, they have 4 diverse yet beautiful girls in their back yard. So we not only had fresh eggs to start our day (and a whole breakfast spread, thanks Stephen, you are seriously too much), but we got to pluck a few from the coop and weigh them to determine their size. Four fresh eggs a day? I'm sold.

And did I say coop? Because this is the nicest coop I ever did see (not that I have many to compare it too but in my mind my opinion is always of value so...). There we were, at the Imparato household, allowing the chickens time to free range and fill their bellies with dirt (This was explained to me in a more profound and poetic way but I can't remember) while we marched around the yard with an air soft  rifle (to ward of foxes from getting the girls) checking out the bee hive and garden and bow and arrow collection. Oh ya know, just your usual Saturday. And then, readyforthebestpart? It was time for the girls to go back to the manor so with bell and gun and cheerios, they Pavlov's dogged it and these chicks were running faster than I've ever seen a chicken run (Chicken Run, get it?). The best.

"Tastes Like a Mojito"- Shan

And after sea kayaking (the same as regular kayaking just on the sea in case you needed the clarification, I know I did.) on the most peaceful rainy morning we dressed for the temperature (rain coats, hats, and sleeves) and headed to downtown Plymouth. And my question to the reader is this, why would you not want to live here?

And we walked the jetty, cheesed hard into the sun, and we walked back.

And after walking around all of downtown Plymouth, including parks, cemeteries, and history lessons, it was a beautiful day so we headed to a more secluded beach and walked and sat and simply enjoyed my first real relaxing summer day.

Hey pretty lady and hey summer 2013, finally.

I seriously had the greatest weekend and these two attractive people went above and beyond to ensure that. Gratzie, gratzie mille.

Bostonian Life

So this one time I decided to buy a flight to Boston. This is shocking for those of you who don't know me, not because I've never been to Boston (which is true) but because I don't spend money well. This might seem to some like a great problem to have but when two of my greatest friends await the other side of a flight... well, I did it. And loved it. And want to go back. Like now. I even started looking into more flights until I looked at my bank account and laughed a nervous hehe before coming back to reality. I'm getting better at this whole spending for a good cause thing but baby steps my friends. Teeny tiny baby steps.

So I got off the plane at a very early hour and walked the city (to reiterate: I didn't want to spend money on public transportation.) Saw most of the major things to see, pictures to those who scroll.

Shannon, do you know Shannon? Well around 10 am we decided it felt like lunch but nowhere was open for lunch so we waited for an hour and got our D.C. fix, because a busy girl can't live without it.

The whole city reeks of historic beauty.

Who is S going to see in the quiet room? That's one secret I'll never tell. XOXO

Seriously, like seriously? I can't.

Everything about it was just too good. Too too good.

Story Summary for the day? me, this lady, and my backpack.

And sometimes I cared more than others about what I was seeing.

All in all, it was a beautiful day. (Parts 2 and 3 of the trip are coming... you didn't think I wore the same outfit all weekend did you?)

Tim was having the time of his life

And he owes it all to me.

So Tim came to visit me in DC this summer (three weeks ago now, sorry I am so far behind) and let me tell you, it was the best week of Tim's life. I mean, he didn't necessarily verify this to me, but I think I can speak for him. Who wouldn't love to spend quality time with me for a whole week? amiright?

The time of Tim's life consisted of: driving me to and from work (I live less than a mile away), coming grocery shopping with me, waiting for me to do my laundry, eating the "food" I "cooked" regardless of the misjudged portion sizes, sleeping (on an air mattress, mind you) without the air conditioning on because I am frugal on the verge of stingy, dealing with my mental and emotional breakdowns of getting lost while driving in the city, et cetera.

What kind of week could ever really compare to this? None to mention, I know.

For a recap of the less traumatic moments start scrolling:

Shake Shack. Because duh.

Something tells me it's all happening at the zoo. (This marked my first-but-not-last trip to the DC zoo, seeing Pandas fo free? What have I been doing for the past three years?)

Hay-oh and happy date night. Bigger and better bloggers have recommended this place before me but can I just add my approval? Two thumbs up. Five stars. Certificate of Rylee's Amen.

And it gave us the opportunity to relive the glorious Roman days.

And drinks after work with friends.

I'm sorry, did I say drinks? I meant megamargs, a category all on its own. 

And did I say friends? How about some of the best people I've ever known.

The weekend called for some very Romesick kids to get their gelato fix.

Tough Gelato Critics say, "It's not Rome but for DC it aint so bad."

So thank you Pitango, Eastern Market, and Capitol Hill for your very joyous Saturdays.

And then we went to walk the streets of Old Town before Tim had to catch a flight because why be on time when you can roll in an anxiety-filled, sweat-producing, heart-pounding, run-Tim-run kind of late? Way more fun that way.

So thank you to my three main men for a wonderful summer. And Tim, you're welcome for an awe-inspired week, I know none will ever be able to compare but you'll get through it. And really, truly, Mr. and Mrs. Kenney, I want to deeply thank you from the depths of my heart for letting me get Tim for a week. I could never thank you enough for how much it meant for me to see him.

All the Ladies Who Truly Feel Me, Throw Your Hands Up at Me

Three years ago around this time, I thought I was way, way, way, way, (wait for it) WAY greater than sliced bread. I was getting ready to go to a school that was not within 2 hours 10 minutes (yes, that is a jab at all ye Notre Dame frands) from my home. Killing it, heading east where adventure awaits. I was a truly independent 18 year old living up ze fancy collegiate life. I lurved my independence, I mean who doesn’t? Still do.

Anybody who knows me knows of my affections for airports, the organized chaos provides such joy for People Watchers Anonymous worldwide. And this independence feeling? Totally thriving in such a setting. And flying alone to and from school, mmhmm gets me excited just thinking about it. But it wasn’t until my recent trip to Boston (Post to follow shortly) that I realized how big of a joke that really is.

Here I was, 6 am, sitting on the plane road take-off thing (I know, I know if I love airports so much I should know this terminology by now, but I don’t so get over it.) stationary for an hour and a half, seatbelts buckled, phones off, lights dimmed. Why? I still don’t really know. But I do know that when we pulled back up to the jet bridge, I had a lot of people to notify; people who care about me, people who dropped me off at the airport, people who pick me up from airports, mis padres, Tim, etc. etc. etc. For an independent college girl, entering her senior year, I sure am dependent on lotsa people, and the best of all people, people I seriously can’t live without. So I guess this is just a wordy realization of where I’ve come and the gratitude I owe so many for allowing me to be dependent on you so I can have the faulty notion that I am self-sufficient. Jokes.

 

 

Also, I did finally make it home a mere 5.5 hours later than I was supposed to so all the women who are independent, throw your hands up at me. AmIRight?

One Fine Sunday

Last Sunday Ryan and I had access to a car (rare) and decided to be exciting and spice it up a little (extrememly rare). So we decided to go to mass NOT on campus, I know right? This is life on the edge people, soak it up. So we went to St. Joes on Capitol Hill (Thanks Kate!) And they have such a welcoming Young Adult group that invited us to brunch, and who were we to say no? I mean, we had a car.

So we went to a place in NE DC called Union Market. I was told it is similar to Chelsea Market in New York, but I've never been so I am not going to be the judge of that.

Either Way, it was a great place with local foods and lots of other things I could never afford. A girl can dream.

Followed by an eventful afternoon at the Nats game.

Soooooooooo DC. I know.

And Dear Lord, I might be cheap but there is no cost that will keep me from a concession stand Hot Dog.

And Ryan caught a shirt; stole it right out of some little kids grip. Not really, but sort of.

They planned this right? They totally planned this.

It made for quite an eventful day. Not as much sun as I was banking on, lets be real, no tan at all for me (do you not see the covering above us?) but I was with the best of people so who am I to complain about such vanities as a summer bronze tone?