When One Door Opens

The last box is packed. Granted my hands have seen far better days, but the broken nails will grow and the scrapes, which make it appear that I fought a dragon in a rosebush, will heal. Thankfully I have a freezer full of my favorite ice pops to take the edge off. I take great …

Storing Memories

While I am all about the euphoria of a determined run filled with relentless sunshine, heavy electronic dance music, and urban sidewalk battles, these last few weeks have been endless cardio adventures of a different sort at U-Haul storage. There is nothing quite like spelunking day after day in a cave full of all of …

11 Miles

There are too few perfect summer days and even fewer spent contently in the company of an oldest and dearest friend. Without an ocean separating us, I basked in the sunshine that filled the Manhattan sky feeling like Goldilocks. It wasn’t too cold, or too hot; it was just right. When something is “just right”, …

Adventures in “Brookoleen”

My great grandmother Michelina was born in Italy, but when she reminisced, she reminisced about Brooklyn. Rather comically, because of her strong accent, she called it “Brookoleen”. It was the kind of pronunciation that would now make you raise your voice to an unhappy Siri. I have driven through Brooklyn countless times, but it always …

If you don’t know, now you know.

Ah, the absolute bliss of being packed and ready to go! It’s like Christmas Eve in my apartment except, rather than being a kid looking over at a decorated tree, I’m stealing glances at a well-seasoned backpack that is slightly too large not to draw attention to itself. Already on the verge of bursting if …

From Artemisia to Tupac: Saying Goodbye

A friend asked me recently what I would miss about Richmond. Because I am now full throttle into a move, I really had not thought about this fundamental question at all. Richmond and I never really gelled. It is punctuated with some lovely people and places, but it was never my small cup of southern …

Adventures in Being Greek

For four glorious days every summer I am full on Greek. I’m ¼ Greek the other 361 days of the year. My grandfather hails from Greece, but I was raised Italian. I sometimes just tell people I am proud to be Mediterranean. Much like the ancient Romans, it is my genetic lake. Greek and Italian …

Adventures in Happy Houring

Happy hours are brilliantly carnivalesque. A weekly Feast of Fools. Bakhtin’s Medieval spectacle in modernity is still dripping in free interaction, misalliances, eccentric behaviors, and the sacrilegious. I am all about rocking the disparate episodes of La Dolce Vita with friends. Back in my 20s on the Long Island, I prepared for the stage all …