How to Build a Garden (Video)

14 Jul 2014 4 Comments

by CoJo in dating, fun, life Tags: , , , , , , , ,

As I was perusing my computer files, I found some DIY project footage I never finished putting together.  If you’ve met me, you’d know that I’m just kinda more like “let’s see how this goes,” than like “let’s plan this out thoughtfully and logically.”  I also from time to time set up a camera before I “see how this goes,” in order to document how it goes.  Last time, it involved taking down a Christmas tree [How to Take Down a Christmas Tree (Video)].

Rewind to February.  This time… it was a garden.  I had seen a post on Pinterest that looked super cute and easy to make.

garden

So I tricked my sister into coming to Home Depot with me (“I’ll buy you an ice cream cone?”), and got to work.  A little taste of our trip to the store:

“Can I help you?”

“Yes, please.  We need wood.”

“What kind of wood?”

“I don’t really know.”

You can imagine how the rest went.  We were thankful for patient employees, and the fact that the store wasn’t closing anytime soon, because we definitely over-stayed our welcome.

I started the garden on my own.  When it came time to paint, and lift heavy bags of soil, I took a break for a bit.  Thankfully, around this time, Gingey entered my life.  Upon his insistence on a Sunday afternoon, we spent our fifth or sixth date at Home Depot, followed by a few hours in my side-yard, finishing up the garden by painting, lining the bottom, and planting… while listening to Van Morrison and drinking a few Bud heavy’s, of course.

As much fun as we had that day, testing our teamwork skills, and revealing some of my weaknesses [ie. things that involve coordination and a brain], if the fate of the garden was any sort of indication of the fate of our relationship, we should have been broken up a long time ago.  I’m not the best at keeping things alive… And when I got a puppy, I decided if I was going to choose one thing to put my effort into keeping alive, it would be the animal.  Unfortunately, after a few delicious tomatoes, and a cauliflower and broccoli plant that looked like they were beginning to bud, the cute little garden went to shit (excuse my French).

Cheers to “seeing how it goes,” … garden style:

Hopefully my next project will have a better long-term outcome.

Tata for now, munchkins.

xoxo Gossip Girl

 

 

 

First Trip Back to NY

11 Dec 2013 2 Comments

by CoJo in Uncategorized Tags: , , , , , , , , , ,

One thing I wasn’t prepared for when moving from New York to California was for people to be mad.  Sad, yeah, of course… I was sad to leave people I love, but mad?  No.  I’m not sure how that emotion came about.  It doesn’t really upset me that people are mad, just confuses me.  I feel like we are all living our lives with the goal to experience things and make ourselves happy.  And different things make different people happy.  I don’t think I’d be mad at anyone for a life decision unless it were specifically to hurt me.  I never really anticipated feeling the bit of guilt I feel, now living on the other side of the country.  Not because I feel like I’m doing something wrong, just because it’s clear that a couple of people I love are mad at me for pursuing what I wanted to do… my selfish dream.  I miss these people all… like crazy.  But didn’t plan on feeling guilty about it.

Carissa and I have been here for a little over 4 months and hadn’t had plans to go home for Thanksgiving or Christmas this year.  Flights are crazy expensive, we made a no-man-left-behind pact, and my parents decided to come out in early January to celebrate Christmas with us here.  Some minor guilt trips were laid out about not being around for the holidays, but that didn’t really affect me.  What did affect me was that I really started missing “home” and the people who were there.  Not because holiday season was approaching, but because I just genuinely missed them.  Sitting on my front porch one night with a glass of wine (the best ideas are sparked by a glass of wine), I asked Carissa if she’d be interested in coming home with me for a long weekend between Thanksgiving and Christmas.  She was.  We decided on going for our brother’s birthday weekend, booked the trip about 6 weeks in advance, and decided we would make it a surprise.  The only person we notified for coordination purposes was our “brother,” Courtney, who was planning birthday festivities.

We flew in separately last Thursday.  I took an early flight, and Carissa got one after her classes.  Since no one really knew we were coming, it was hard to coordinate sleeping arrangements for the first night.  I knew I had to go to Hoboken straight from JFK to pick up my snowboard from my condo’s basement to bring back with me, so I planned to stay with a friend there.  Carissa on the other hand, didn’t want her friends to know she was home until the following night, so her plan was to get home to Babylon around 2am, SNEAK INTO our parents’ house, and into her bed, and then meet me in the morning to surprise them at work.  FLAW FLAW … hole in the plan.

“Carissa, you CANNOT sneak into the house.  Dad’s going to shoot you when he hears someone creeping up the stairs in the middle of the night.”

“No… he only has a Louisville Slugger next to his bed… I’ll be fine.”

“He has a GUN.  He will shoot you.”

“Oh….really?…. hmmmm… okay I’ll figure something else out.”

She figured something else out.  I also had to figure something else out at the last-minute because my Hoboken sleeping arrangements fell through.  Planes trains and automobiles later, I arrived in Hoboken and met up with The Architect, who I had informed earlier that I’d be in town for the night.  The feeling being back there, but homeless, was eerie.  It felt so amazing to be back.  I’d missed the vibes of the town.  I had a fun random Thursday out, visited my favorite local watering hole, and saw a couple of friends.  The next morning as I walked to my old condo in the dark, cold, rain, I couldn’t help but feel happy anyway.  I was so excited to be back, and so excited to see my family over the next couple of days.  As I crossed the street near my building, dragging my luggage with a hood over my head, the crossing guard who looked like he was basically covered in plastic bags shouted, “Happy Friday!”  I beamed, and shouted back to him.  Even the nasty cold rain was making me happy.  I felt back at home.  Back home with all the miserable commuters I was used to.

If getting through public transportation on a Friday morning during rush hour isn’t complicated enough…. I challenge you to do it with a rolling suitcase, an oversized purse, a sweater, and a packed snowboard bag over your shoulder.  I can’t count how many times I said “I’m sorry,” and after the first leg of the trip, making it down to the PATH and then up into the city, I just couldn’t stop laughing.  As hard as I tried to control all of my things it was just impossible not to whack people either in front of me, behind me, or to either side.  As I fielded dirty looks, I felt it was necessary to explain what a nightmare it was to be pushing through turnstiles with the amount of odd-shaped things I had to carry.

I finally made it to Penn Station, got a real New York bagel, made my way down to the Long Island Railroad, got my snowboard up on the top shelf with a big sigh, and sat down.  The conductor collected my ticket and I asked him if he knew when the train would get to Babylon.  He told me, and then asked, “Do you know who I am?”

I did know who he was.  He was my mom’s friend’s husband, Frank.  Funny enough, he was one of the only OTHER people who knew I’d be in town, because his wife, Marie helped me get my mom half a day off of work that day in secret.  Frank asked where Carissa was, and if we were ready for the surprise, and chatted with me for the majority of the train ride.  Feeling at home already.

I get to Babylon and looked for Carissa who was supposed to be picking me up.  I called her.  She picked up and whispered, “Hey, I just found Dad’s keys in his jacket pocket.  I think he’s still home.  I’ll be there in 5.”

Okay, now she’s breaking into the house and stealing my dad’s car… while he’s home.  She pulls up a few minutes later with incessant horn honking, starts laughing at me struggling with my bags, and as I throw myself into the car says, “Ok, let’s go to mom’s school.”

“Carissa!  We need to get the car back to Dad before he notices and calls the cops!”

“Oh yeah.”

It’s so weird being back, homeless, and carless.  We hurried back home before our dad knew his car was missing, crept upstairs and freaked the crap out of him.  It took him a few minutes to understand what was going on.  We asked to borrow a car and then headed to my mom’s school… which was the highlight of the weekend.  To be honest I would have made the trip east JUST for these few minutes with T-Diddy, which thankfully we caught on video:

It took her a few minutes to process that this, in fact, was NOT a dream, and then we kidnapped her for the second half of the day for some quality girl time.

The rest of our time flew.  We got to see our brother and other brother for their birthdays, our sister Britt, and a bunch of other family and friends over the weekend.  There was obviously not enough time with each person, nor enough time to see as many people as I would have liked, but we did our best.  We spent the entire day on Saturday taking over Sixth Ward on the LES, rearranging their projector, Christmas decorations, TV channels and audio system to meet our sports watching and pool-playing needs.  We spent a solid 12 quality hours there, eating two meals and using the bathrooms a record-breaking amount of times.  At the end of the night, when Carissa and I gave our final hugs goodbye to Chase and Britt on the frigid street, and scurried into the closest cab, I turned to see her start to cry.  “I hate leaving my brother…” which of course started my waterworks as well.  Spending a whole day with people you love so much in the city you love so dearly was bittersweet.

The energy in NYC is un-matched by any other place.  Maybe it’s because it’s the one in which I feel most at home, but maybe it’s because it truly is the greatest city in the world.  When Monday night came around and it was time to go back home, the goodbyes were sad, but I had a peace about me, because I felt happy to be returning “home” to California.  It’s somewhere that you smile getting off the plane and feel welcomed by the palm trees and cheery people.  Will it be home forever?  Maybe not… but really…. who knows?  For now, my heart is split between coasts.  And that’s how I like it.

Peace out for now buttercups…

xoxo

Gossip Girl

Amanda and Dave’s Wedding (Video)

09 Oct 2013 Leave a comment

by CoJo in Uncategorized Tags: , , ,

A lonnnnggggg time ago, on an Island called Long Island, my friend Amanda asked me to shoot her nuptials with her long time love, Dave.  To say I’m unqualified to shoot and edit a wedding video is an understatement, but nonetheless, I agreed and took on the task.  Needless to say this task took me way longer to complete than is normally acceptable.  Thankfully Amanda and Dave are a verrrryyy patient bride and groom.  🙂

Nestled behind a quaint home in the Hamptons, Amanda and Dave’s closet family members and friends gathered to witness a beautiful celebration of a beautiful couple on a BEAUTIFUL day!  With attention to every detail, they pulled off a perfect wedding.  And finally their video is available for viewing:

Kamping (Video)

03 Aug 2013 Leave a comment

by CoJo in Uncategorized Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , ,

My sister and I just took a one-way road trip from New York to California.   If you knew either of us, you’d probably assume we embarked on this road trip completely un-prepared.  Un-prepared, that is, except for the awesome 2-man tent we picked up at Walmart a few weeks ago.  Details, details… who needs sleeping bags, pillows, bug repellent or anything else camping-related?  Also, who needs planning?

Here we are, 8:50pm on a Wednesday night in Oklahoma driving down Rt 40 W looking for a campsite.  By “looking for a campsite” I mean getting off every exit with a camping symbol on it, and finding out that just meant that you could park your RV in a parking lot.  On cement.  No thank you.

“Carissa, we need wine first, then we’ll find a campsite…. let me run in that gas station and ask.”

We’re in the MIDDLE.OF.NO.WHERE.OKLAHOMA.  I walk in to the gas station mart.  It was kinda nice.  They had beer.  We didn’t want beer.  There was a drunk guy standing at the counter trying to buy something as I waited impatiently to ask about wine.  The drunk guy turns around, looks at me, and asks:  “Are you a Cherokee?”

WTF.

“No.  Do you know where I can find wine?”

“Yes, down the road a half a mile, make a left past the Big Cowboy.  The liquor store is open for another 10 minutes.”

I RUN out of there, signaling Carissa in the driver’s seat to start driving before I fully get into the car.

“GO.GO.GO!  We have 10 minutes and it’s past the Big Cowboy!!!”

We peel outta there, and drive down the dark road back and forth for exactly 8 minutes before I make her pull over at the nearest humans to ASK where this “Big Cowboy” is.  The old people with no teeth directed us a few feet down the pitch black road, where we again, run out of the car and catch the liquor store by about 30 seconds before closing.  By “liquor store” I mean a place about the size of my bedroom with a few dusty bottles, and tequila inside of a shotgun shaped glass.  After a few minutes, we decide on a fine BOX of wine, since that’s more portable than a bottle.   And wine is necessary to watch The Bachelorette, which was already loaded online on my laptop.

I hand the elderly woman my ID.  She looks at it, looks at me, shakes her head and says “1982?”

“Yes, I’m 30.”

She says, “You don’t look 30.”

I say “thank you,” but for the first time.  I’m not flattered.  I’m thinking she’s actually not going to let me buy this wine.  She really doesn’t believe me.  At least my 21-year-old sister has an ID on her.  That’s my only comfort as I give her a pleading look to just let me buy the wine.

She lets me buy the wine.

We get out of there and start driving.  My friend Doon texts me and asks if I need help searching for a campsite.  She asks where I am.  I send her a screenshot of my map.  She still doesn’t understand where I am.  Neither do I.  We drive a bit more, while internet searching.  We find a place called KOA.  For some reason we assumed this stood for Kamping of America.  I still kinda think it does, but I’m not positive.

There was no one there at the front desk, but there was a wooden counter with a sign above it.  Carissa pulled up and let me run out to check it out.  It said “Late Arrivals Welcome.”  Yes…….  I read the instructions and grabbed an envelope.  The envelope had a tent spot assignment written on it, and instructions for how to register and pay.  I wrote down my information on the envelope, shoved the required amount of cash inside and put it in the lock box.  Errrrrrr…..

It was hot.  It was humid.  There were a LOT of bugs.  It was dark.  Very dark.  We put the car lights facing our little patch of assigned grass and pulled the little tent out from the trunk.  We didn’t know how to pitch a tent, but it looked easy enough.  I’m sure it was easy.  It just took longer than it probably should have.  I blame the dark.  We couldn’t see a thing unless we were positioned correctly in front of the car lights.  I somehow found a flashlight halfway through the tent pitching attempt which aided us with the small pieces we were dropping into the grass.

Finally, the tent was up and the box of wine was open.  We put the laptop on top of the box of wine, calling it the “wine table,” thinking it was the most clever play on “coffee table.”  It was pretty clever.  We watched The Bachelorette as we swatted bugs off the screen and strained our necks to hear every word as the 18-wheelers whizzed down the highway behind us.

We watched TV until the computer died, and then sang to songs off of our iPhones.  When it was bedtime, we fell right asleep and accidentally slept in until 10:30am.  Who over-sleeps in a tent?  These two.  Whoops.

Here’s a little video log of our tent pitching.  Don’t worry, I sped it up… (a little)

More road trip stories to follow…

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