Visitor’s Blog. Stardate 41153.7

I’ve always wanted to be one of those traveller’s who gets paid to share about the best hotels and bed and breakfasts…five stars for Egyptian Cotton and an organic mattress. Four stars for a chocolate mint on my pillow and a bubble bath hot tub. Hear me, hear me, the uproariously popular critic who banks on rating the flavors of seasonal Butternut Squash Bisques across America. But, since no one cares about my opinion, and no one has discovered my underlying richness and fame-potential yet, I decided to just write about my stay in New Hampshire regardless of the fact that no one will read it, and I am receiving no monetary compensation for my stated opinion.
Dublin Lake

I took a recent trip to New Hampshire, where I was richly accommodated by my friend Toni, in a house far far away, nestled and tucked away in the mountains, in a very difficult-to-get-to-but-worth-every-ounce-of-effort region called the “Monadnocks”. Upon my arrival, I was warmly greeted by pretty much every member of the animal kingdom. The parrots literally greeting me with “Hello” and cat calls that had me feeling like the movie star I am. Two black cats LITTERally greeted me with their babyish crying and meows, a small dog named Mona had physical tremors with excitement as I walked in, and I met Charlotte the spider in the middle of the night, who left me an affectionate hickey on the inside of my elbow.

The whole stay was lovely –from the balanced meals of kale chips, which we washed down with organic sugar cookies, and tofu noodle explosions (COFFEE for the kids since their mother’s claimed they had problems not staying awake late enough every night).


Many yoga sessions in which friendly competition ensued, the type of yoga where finding “Om” really means figuring out who can be the most evil to the other. Considering how my inner thigh still feels like a grandfather clock was dropped on it, I think Sarah wins with implementing a series of fifty splits. Yes….splits… in, what 6-year-old-gymnast-wanna-be’s do. And apparently, 27-39 year-old yogic women do as well. There was plenty of opportunity for fresh air and physical fitness, with walks around the lake, distraction-free group yoga, and solitary meditating whilst donning straight jackets and “working through” fear and anxiety.

During the relaxing evening hours, strange rituals took place like “Yappy Yap” time. During a meal, the concept of “Yappy Yap” is presented, and the entire family (fortunately it was not expected of guests) runs around the table as fast as they can shouting “Yappy Yap” until exhaustion takes over and they pass out. It was fine with me because while they were “Yappy Yapping” I was polishing off the leftovers from their plate of carrots and hummus, licking the tahini off my fingers, and swishing down a gluten-free baklava with rice milk.

My absolute favorite thing about the journey, was spending time with my friend Toni, who is a really, truly a one-of-a-kind, unique person. If we’re all drops in the ocean, she is a spherical shaped drop, or some other shape that a water¬†droplet rarely achieves, but often aspires to. Her individuality is evidenced by her eclectic pursuits –a true, well-rounded lady: from cooking and baking, to owning the dance floor at local pubs, writing blogs about war and peace, engaging in child politics, attending rain dances, and yoga torture workshops. She has a vast body of knowledge from moon chants to makeup, and right back around will whip out some classical Greek myth as an addition to some cleverly written political rhetoric.

I laughed, I cried, I indulged myself in ironic wit, it was a great visit. I am not usually one to do this, but I will warrant Toni and her hospitality FIVE stars for an all-around, class act, two thumbs up, hands down FANTASTIC vacation.

— Satisfied Guest —



Philosophy 101

The other night I had a really weird dream. In short, I had my head hacked off and a horse head replaced my once beautiful vibrant face. I wore the horse head to the gym, out to restaurants, and had to flaunt it a the grocery store. It was a strange dream, and slightly disconcerting. The type of dream that made you think it means something significant, but was probably just a result of eating carrots before bed. I am used to Charlie Horses in my legs, but this was an entirely different beast to slay.

The dream ended, thankfully, and when I woke up, I didn’t have any additional equine features, nor stitch marks on my neck where some animal’s head had been sewn on. That’s the good news.¬†horse

The bad news is, I truly have been galloping around with my true identity hacked off. My vibrancy and passion has been replaced with a determination just to charge ahead and it’s been rather abrasive and brutal to me and to those around me. Not being your true self affects EVERYONE around you.

I look down at my life (yes, down, I’m rather living out and about from my actual self), and analyze how my personal philosophy and my life are going down different roads, I am rather ashamed. How can you be true to yourself when your true self was set to sleep a long time ago? I think that this has been taking place for a while now. Since I said “YES” to some things that I had no intention of saying “YES” to. Since I travelled down a few paths that were not set out for me.

If I had to summarize the age 26, I would venture to say it has been my “Tale of Two Cities” year. It’s been the best of times, and the worst of times. It’s almost over, only one more month and 8 days until I wander into the world of 27, much more level-headed and prepared than I would have expected. Much more level-headed and prepared than I was a mere week ago. This month, I am stepping back from the things that I have allowed to hack my identity and challenging myself instead to find what I am truly passionate about, what truly gets me saying “YAYYY” instead of “NAYYYY”.

I am planting myself and allowing the things I love to orbiting around me. Making me bright shining SUN of my own solar system. I’m not necessarily anticipating this to be fun, nor easy. But the alternative is not a risk I am willing to take. It would be better to fall off the wagon than opt for that.

Not to beat a dead horse or anything.