bungalow

I miss the bungalow. The bungalow was really an old garage/shed at the house I lived in last year. I turned that space into my own little nook, apart (it seemed) from the rest of the world. I wrote there and relaxed and entertained. Here's a poem I wrote at the height of my boy-crazy wild summer...

this bungalow and my imagination

at odds with aspects of this reality
peace and balance, morality or sexuality?
in my dreams: drums and strums of guitars
boys, bars, the stars

i heard it all when he returned my hazy gaze
these moments abound I've found, and are
lost in a fleeting blink of my eyelashes
amidst splashes of Bacardi, friends, and the party
swift I realize this gift
of life over strife and passion reaction
to the sweet heat of summer lovin'
friendship should make it easy to
fall into it--shit why not one shot?

as long as he lets me breathe

this warm rhythm brings more to my mind
than love
it opens the doors for creativity
and inspires imagination, ingenuity
so into my bungalow i go
for the afternoon soon blooms
into night when i might politely invite
him to sit with me for a while
oh, how he brings over that smile
but only if winks first, drinks for my thirst
immersed in the world light, ignite
debate and smart conversations
temptations excite
sensations, incite relations

unfortunately this won't ever exist
as he seems to resist the idea of my kiss
its too bad he'll miss this
possibility infusing in me

6 months and counting

Today is my 6 month anniversay! I can't believe I lucked out to have such an incredible man by my side. And, it's only getting better with time.

To commemorate the day, I'll tell you how we met. Well, this isn't actually how we 'met' but how we met. See, we have many mutual friends and had been introduced in passing once or twice. We'd never had the pleasure of spending any time together though, that is until the great Coventry Phish fesitval in Vermont last summer.

My best friend J. and I set off for the festival with high hopes of selling bloody mary's, dancing out butts off, and enjoying what was to be the last Phish show ever (a monumental event for us and many of our similarly crunchy friends).

We left the Thursday beforehand. Driving was smooth sailing until we got about 10 miles away from the exit to the festival where traffic was stopped. Having had much experience with Phish traffic, we promptly exited the car, cracked a few beers, and brought out the parachute (yes, the kind you used to play spaceship with in 4th grade). Little did we know we would be stuck in that traffic for the next 40 HOURS!

After a couple of nights sleeping in the car, Mike Gordon came over the airwaves of the Bunny and announced that those kids not already inside the venue should turn around and go home. No entry to any more cars due to the insane amount of mud inside the gates. J. and I promptly pulled over to the side of the road, packed our necessities (tent, sleeping bag, sweat shirt, rainbow skirt, glitter, and bottle of Jameson) and we set off for our adventure. So you're wondering where the boy fits in, right?

After 12 hot miles and a bottle of Jameson, we were exhausted mentally and physically. It was utter madness, 80,000 kids milling around in the mud trying to find a place to call home for the next few days. I was worried about my car getting towed, I was wondering just how we were going to party our asses for 2 days then hike another 12 miles back to the car and survive. It was then that J. returned a call from the boy, who is inside wondering if we are okay. We tell him where we are and he is coinsidentally just around the corner. He comes tromping to our rescue wearing hiking boots and an oh so cute bandana tied around his head with his long locks pulled back--a dream resuer if ever there was one. He promptly brought us to camp, got us settled in, washed up, and even gave us money (we were broke as we had counted on selling bloody mary's for spending $).

The weekend turned out to be one of the best of my life. He pulled my spirits up just when they were about the lowest they have ever been. He gave me a piggyback ride through the horrendous and never ending mud, he made me laugh, he opened my eyes to the beauty of the experience that was hiding just beneth all the shit. I fell so in love, so instantly. And since that weekend my love for him has only grown. Every day I learn something new about myself through him. He challenges me, he takes care of me, he makes me laugh. He is amazing.

computer drama

As stated previously, I am not that technically inclined. I would love to be more adept with this stuff, I really would. And, so I've decided to buy myself a computer. The last computer I owned was purchased by my parents as my high school graduation gift in 1997. So, I think it's time.

I had no idea this would be so complicated. There are all kinds of things I need to figure out, RAMS and Ghtz and wireless cards. I want a desktop replacement with some power to it. I want a nice display and plenty of room for music and pictures. However, I don't want to spend a gazillion dollars. Is it possible folks?

eek!

It's Over

It's over. I'm done. I've had enough.

And so today starts my first day of not drinking coffee (gasp!). I know it sounds ludicrous. I love coffee. I remember the first buzzes of caffine and freedom I felt after I got my first car. I'd drive to the bagel shop, filling my 36oz. Dunkin Donuts coffee mug before school. Oh, how cool I felt arriving in my own car with my own coffee, savoring the warmth through first period. I worked in a coffee shop at the time and would love filling the big jars full of beans: Sumatra, French Roast, Our Blend. The aroma of beans, the sound of espresso grinding, the foamy milk frothily enveloping my angst-ridden lips--I clung to it.

I was lucky that my college roommate had the same love affair. I used my pull at the coffee shop before I left and brought with me a 25 pound bag of beans--a necessity no college student should be without. We'd wake up drowsily, each drain half the pot into our gigantic mugs, and slowly shuffle out to class in our pajamas. That coffee cured me of many hangovers, brought out my best and brightest for tests and presentations, and more than once helped me burn the midnight oil cramming for exams.

For graduation, my ex-boyfriend's parents gave me a grind-and-brew. I hit the jackpot. The automatic grind-and-brew's timer saved my life. I was commuting to Boston from the middle of MA, waking up at ungodly hours, spending even more ungodly hours on the commuter rail. But, those fresh, warm cups of Rainforest Nut kept me company, kept my spirits lifted, kept me awake (and therefore safe from pick-pockets and the like).

And then, the culmination of my coffee drinking experiences came. At my new job in NH, I discovered the wonder and delight of the one-cup maker. Oh, the choices available at my little fingertips each morning. How glorious to make one fresh cup of with the flavor and intensity I craved. It's at this height of enjoyment that I think I must let her go. I'm going to try tea. I like tea, I really do. I think I can get used to tea. People say tea drinkers have better skin, better bowels, less migraines. I promise to revist coffee every once in a while, but for now it's goodbye.

things I don't like more than things that are slimey

taxes and credit card companies--both robbery.

not that I can do anything about it.

Hellobi

My cat's name is Jahrobi, we call him Obi for short. He wears a perma-tux (permanent tuxedo). The perma-tux gives the illusion of grandeur and grace. This is usually smashed to hell though as soon as the little bugger trips over his own feet or falls clumsily off the back of the couch. I adore him madly, with all my freaky-cat-lady heart.

I'm beginning to get a little bit worried though about one of his newfound interests--the toilet. As soon as Obi hears me enter the bathroom, he promptly joins me. Usually, he has the dignity to let me do my thing in peace while he sits in the window or lounges on the bathmat. However, as soon as he senses the deed is done, he's right next to me. At the sound of the flush his little tux paws are on the seat peering intently down. He is so damn curious about the flush.

I hate to admit it, but I've also found him headfirst lunging into the commode for a drink now and then. This completely grosses me out as no respectable cat would be caught dead drinking water out of the toilet--that's got to be just for dogs right? I can only scold him when I catch him in the act and hope that this poop and pee fascination wears with age.

treats and tribulations

Things I cannot be trusted to keep outside my mouth when alone:

1. Rice Krispie Treats
2. Peanut Butter cookies
3. Nacho Cheese Doritos
4. Milkshakes
5. Avacadoes
6. Imitation Crab Meat (flake style please)
7. Diet Ginger Ale
8. Solid-white Tuna
9. Chocolate Milk
10. Bacon

Things I will not touch with a 10 foot pole:

1. Mushrooms
2. Eggs including but not limited to scrambled, fried, over easy, hard-boiled, poached or quiched
3. Blue Cheese--also known as the villan of cheese, I do not love overly pungent 'blue' cheeses
4. Divinity (ask my mom, she's loves to tell the overindulgence story)
5. Scallops
6. Chunk-light Tuna
7. Vienna Sausages
8. Chicken found in canned soup
9. Plain drinking milk
10. Tofu

whey and whey (where are the curds?)

I love cheese. I love the diversity and possibilities inherant in cheese. I love the taste (if not always the smell). I want to make cheese. I want to make it for a living. In my current profession, I do nothing that even comes close to cooking or venting my creativity So, in my spare time, I thought I'd try the cheese thing out.

I went to the local overpriced healthfood store and bought fresh milk, buttermilk, and rennet. With these three ingredients, a large pot, and some patience I thought I was going to make Neufchatel. This cheese is supposedly VERY easy. It's like cream cheese and needs no aging. Perfect for beginners.

In all the excitement, I screwed up the temperature and almost boiled my milk. Apparently, I had forgotten how to read a thermometer. I think this must have killed some important enzyme with all the heat because my cheese did not curd after setting overnight. That's right all that effort and all those dreams of a firm white curd surrounded by a clear bright whey were stomped upon.

After adding some other various 'starting' agents and waiting another 24 hours, my cheese finally developed a pseudo-curd. In an overzealous attempt to martha stewart-ize my life I had previously purchased some cheesecloth just knowing it would come in handy one of these days. I promptly whipped out the cloth and ladled my concoction through the holes of the cheese cloth straight down the drain. Why don't they tell you to double up on the cloth? Why was I an idjust to keep ladling, watching my fragile curd wash down into the sink?

Looking back on this experience, I think it's probably best that my curd washed away. I doubt that it was fit for eating after all that phanegaling. After the wounds heal, I will try again. I would really love to find a cheese guru. Maybe I need to go to France or meet a goat farmer.

avenue b.

My name is Brinki, I'm 26 years old. I live on the seacoast of New Hampshire (yes, NH does have a seacoast). I'm not technically inclined so you won't be seeing anything fussy or fancy in the ways of design or images or whathaveyou. I don't know what code is or how the hell to format it. I will however, write copious amounts of interesting tidbits and not-so-interesting todbots.

In the effort of sparing you, the reader, from a not-so-interesting todbot narrative on my personality, I will list some of the key components of my likes and dislikes. Think of this as a personality primer of sorts.

I enjoy...
-blindingly bright days after snowstorms
-my cat
-super mario 64
-the ocean
-orchids
-poetry
-hip-hop
-New England
-coffee
-dancing
-fire
-sage
-traveling
-Phish and other jam-like bands
-Cheese
-Blues and Jazz
-animals including, but not limited to goats, dogs, cats, turtles, and alpacas
-acronyms

I dislike...
-slimey foods including, but not limited to mushrooms, eggs, and tofu
-pwa (people with attitudes)
-stereotypes
-dead flowers
-things left uncovered in the fridge
-kitty litter
-meanies

Okay, there's my getting to know you post. Wow, I'm glad that's over. Now I can get to the important stuff like curding milk and neck spasms. And so it begins...