Sweater Vests and Beach Bums

I was sitting at Mia Pomodora yesterday waiting for the food to come that I had ordered using my wonderful Groupon. Which on a side note is the best thing since a hotdog on a stick. Groupon and Living Social feed my life and I just want to say thank you to those glorious organizations for providing to me what I am not able to provide to myself. But anyhow – sitting at Mia Pomodora and this dude walks up and asks to sit with us since he was waiting for food too.

So dude was chattering away making small talk and he asks Trellis and I “what sort of guys we like…” Weird. But okay moving forward. And we were thinking about that in comparison to the guys who live down here and I came to the conclusion that Charleston is made up of two things. Sweater Vests and Beach Bums.

No one wants to date a sweater vest because they are more feminine than most of the girls I meet. And for anyone thinking on this who is from the Midwest. Let me just tell you here and now that a southern sweater vest wearing man is a far different animal than a Midwestern sweater vest wearing man. The southern sweater vest likes to wear short pink shorts and a visor while he creepily tries to pick up girls at yoga class or by boasting his own self worth at a local coffee shop. Pretty boys in the most negative context.

The beach bum is a much more attractive option. But since really we are looking for Trellis here and not for me – I don’t quite see that working out either. Although Trellis has embraced the beach lifestyle..i.e. she doesn’t do her hair before going to the beach and from time to time she actually wears a bathing suit. I don’t really see her embracing a beach bum with the same enthusiasm. Beach bums are carefree and fun and full of love and kind words, but you don’t see them between the months of May and September (unless you are at the beach) and their day to day lives off the beach are almost always up for debate.

Beach bums…sweater vests…beach bums….sweater vests…what to do, what to do.

Fleas and Hurricanes

Fuel last night for chicken nachos and plantain fritters. Never an experience you'll regret.

There is a Hurricane coming and it marks my first ever tropical storm experience! I think the brunt of it will miss Charleston. But we should have some pretty heavy rain. For anyone who loves a good thunderstorm the way that I do – you haven’t seen anything until you’ve seen a southern storm. And I get the feeling that I haven’t seen anything until I see wind and rain direct from a Hurricane that is just off the coast.

The whole Hurricane thing is very difficult to wrap my head around given my Midwestern upbringing. I am not accustomed to the civilized conversation regarding where we will go if we have to evacuate, or asking what supplies I have purchased in preparation for the storm. Preparation? In the Midwest if we see a storm coming we say “OH SHIT!” then duck and cover. The most preparation we have is practicing hiding under our desks in middle school. I was in a panic at first because I don’t have a basement to hide in. I was then gently reminded that no one here has a basement. And if they did they had better be wearing swim suits because it is going to flood. I guess that makes sense. Not much use for a basement when your house is sitting on land that is below sea level. Nick is having as equally difficult a time wrapping his mind around the idea of storm preparation. At least I have someone to be confused with. Although I think he is starting to get nervous because it started to rain last night and he leapt up and said “Oh God! Is my car going to float away!” …no that is just rain – hurricane won’t be here until Friday night. So weird, like it’s a visitor that the entire city is anxiously awaiting.

As far as I can tell, the real problem with a hurricane in Charleston is not total annihilation so much as major inconvenience. I guess the power goes out during these things and stays out for several weeks at times. I haven’t really prepared for that…I filled up a few water jugs, but beyond that I think my plan is going to be to drink up the beer in my fridge before it gets warm and eat lots of cold spaghettios.

A Wedding and A Funeral (who died? Our dignity.)

What a wonderful weekend in my beloved Bloomington. I knew once I finally escaped from that place I would love going back to visit. It is most definitely one of my favorite places on earth.

Ashly Shell (now forever known as Ashly Pixler) got married on August 12th and it was such a lovely reunion. Ashly looked beautiful and the ceremony and reception were so pretty. Plus Smato was somehow convinced to wear a dress so that was just the icing on the cake. But we all went out the night before the ceremony and I remember sitting there talking to Smato and McVey and thinking how much I appreciate all of the friendships from freshman year of college. It is such a hodgepodge of personalities and people, all thrown together and forced to either make it work or spend the year hiding in your room. We made it work. Good lord did we make it work. Not only for that first year but for sophomore year too. And even as we all got more into our different grooves in college – newspapers, jobs, boyfriends, school work – all pulling us away from one another. We were still such a family. The most different mess of people you can imagine. But we were there for each other. And we didn’t judge or manipulate or use one another like some friends tend to do as you get older. We supported, and harassed and gave each other shit 24/7 – but we were a family. In the way that you can only be with the people who know absolutely everything about you.

I haven’t seen a few of them in years. We have different lives, we went separate ways. We left college.

But when we all got back together it was like we still lived next door to one another in Villas – Trellis’ poof fell sideways, McVey got drunk and disheveled, I tried to go swimming in the middle of the wedding reception, Kristin listened to all the shenanigans from the night before and told us all we were idiots and Smato just crossed her arms over her chest and made outrageous comments which she found absolutely hilarious. When Kristin left the reception I cried and Smato grabbed my bags and laughed in my face before leaving me sitting in the parking lot.

This might not sound quite so wonderful to anyone else. But to me – it is friendship and comfort and home. It’s like we all went away and are living these wonderful lives. But the minute we all get together again we immediately digress into the mentality of college freshman. Spending every moment together, knowing exactly what the others were going to do, and rationalizing even the most ridiculous behavior as perfectly acceptable.

The kicker was as Ashly’s reception came to a close. There were four of us from freshman year sitting in t-shirts and pajama shorts eating an enormous bag of potato chips and talking about nothing, and Ashly was plopped down in the middle of the group wearing her wedding dress. Some things never change. And sometimes there is nothing better than seeing old friends and having a good time.

Three Days til Toledo - Eight Days til Ireland

Just a quick note regarding the fact that I’ve had the most beautiful few weeks ever - with lots of love, sunshine and long and giggly late night conversations. I feel perfectly in touch with most of my lifelong lovers thanks in part to long weekends and lazy phone calls and there has been a recent overflow of wondrous activities here in town that all seem to epitomize summer in the South. Late nights in the water, early mornings on the beach, mimosas for days, Art Walk Sushi Extravaganzas and all those glorious days in the sun.

I was floating about in the pool on Sunday afternoon and I glanced up at my motley crew of goof ball friends here in South Carolina and I realized that I am truly content. This is probably helped by the fact that I am heading home in three days and therefore have stopped being sad over missing all my beloveds from home and finally just get to feel the excited anticipation of seeing everyone so soon. Plus all the plans in the works for IU Homecoming helps relieve the never quite dissipated twinge of sorrow over the fact that college really is over. But, considering that my friends from home are the loves of my life and will always be so no matter where we live. And the fact that my friends from school are also heart and soul lovers but so scattered around the country at the moment we could never all be together anyhow. I feel really lucky to be so happy with my life. I love where I am, Love the people I've met, I love the journey I’ve been on so far and the one ahead and I know the people who really matter in my life will always be there.

This may also be stemming from the fact that I pulled all of my pictures off facebook with some handy dandy gadget and had a quick (1,800 pictures or so flickering past at high speeds) trip down memory lane – starting with Toledo, blurring through Bloomington and ending with yesterday. And it may be in part due to the fact that my little sister graduated from high school yesterday and it made me reflect on the journey I've taken since that day. It's gone by so fast, and every moment seems to slip by a little quicker than the last. It's nice to sit back and reflect now and again on the people who I've loved, still love and who helped make me into the person I am today.

So just a quick note reminding all of my friends that you are the butter to my biscuits, the jelly to my peanut butter and the bananas to my frozen banana stand.

Ocean Waves versus Lake Beach Days – the countdown to Ireland begins

Summer is officially here in Charleston. The dreaded humidity has yet to really set in, so for now it’s just sunny and hot days with cool [but getting buggier] nights. I finally understood the difference between the Ocean and my grandma’s lake last weekend. I’ve been arguing that they aren’t that different since the day I arrived, but last weekend I went to Folly Beach – beers and Bert’s .83 cent hotdogs in hand – and by 2p.m. I was spent. By 4 p.m. I absolutely had to leave. It is freaking hot out there! The sun is stronger, the water is warmer, and eventually – a girl just has to get some shade a cold drink.

Despite my unfortunate revelation that summer beach days will be shorter than I initially planned, I still got a better tan than I would’ve after a week at grandma’s lake and the waves of the ocean are significantly more fun to play in than the waves of Lake Erie. Although I must say, I do miss floating on a raft with Trellis and Ames while having my younger cousins deliver us beers all day long - there is little to no floating in the ocean.

I still feel as though I am constantly on vacation here. I’ve been trying to incorporate normal, human activities into my day to day life – working out, grocery shopping, laundry. But it’s hard when there is a beach or a pool and a sunny day in front of you. I’ve been wishing it would rain lately so that I could have a day to just do the boring stuff that life requires. Although I suppose requires is a strong word. I certainly did not do many of those things in college. And I do not in the least way suspect that I will perish if I continue to not do them now.

I’ve been trying to be good lately and actually purchase groceries so that I don’t have to run to Fuel or Black Bean every time I want to eat. So I went to Whole Foods the other day and got such an array of delicious summer treats that I now worry I will become a Whole Foods addict and still succeed at never actually cooking anything. I’ve got to go to the Farmer’s Market this weekend. The produce there is amazing and soooo cheap. It’s amazing how much actual organic and locally grown food costs versus “organic” and “local” food from grocery stores and restaurants. I can spend $15 at the Farmer’s Market and walk away with two weeks’ worth of produce. $15 won’t get me a two days worth of produce from Earth Fare or even Wal-Mart. But back to the point of Whole Foods. Such tasty treats and really not very expensive if you shop smart. Plus, best of all of course, I got a massive thing of mixed bottled beers for less than $10 – bomb diggity. I love good beer, and inexpensive good beer is best of all!

Memorial Day weekend was uneventful but fun. Nothing like the weekend prior that was a constant onslaught of parties and drunken foolishness. With a finale that involved tiki bars, rooftops and unexplained nudity. Not surprising considering it was Josh’s birthday and then the Knight family came into town.

In honor of Pepper Pots Birthday (she's 3, because she needed an age), we finally ate the infamous Duck Sandwich at Tattooed Moose. Nick and I split it because it is ginormous and I do have to say it is quite delicious. Grease drenched bread that still held its texture like a champ – shaved duck with a sweet sauce over top and three layers of delicious toppings and condiments. Paired with a side of duck fat fries and a PBR pounder – I’d say it was well worth the $8. I don’t think I’d go in it on my own for $15+, that is a bit high even for a super taste-o-licious sandwich. But then again I am not a dude, and I do believe that many a dude would eat that big boy on their own and feel just fine about it.

Easter Dinner in the South

Had a wonderful week of family visitors for my birthday. That was nice. I’ve missed the fam. We went to Poogan’s Porch on Thursday and it was AMAZING. Duck breast with collard greens and cheese grits. So good I almost died. It literally melted in my mouth. Nick had bbq hanger steak, mother dearest had shrimp and grits and Annie and Trellis had various forms of fried chicken. It was all tasty – but nothing compared to the duck breast. It was, in a word – DaBomb.

I really want to learn to cook grits and collards. They are two of my favorite things here but I cannot fathom how they are prepared. I’ll have to look it up I suppose, and then probably give up on the idea entirely because there will be so much butter involved in the recipe that I’ll never be able to bring myself to actually cook them so they taste half as good as they do in restaurants. I tried to make gumbo once without making a roué. It was terrible.

Easter was the day after my birthday and consisted of early morning bloody mary's, pool parties, fried chicken (great success), cheese balls, colored eggs (some cooked and some not) and an easter egg hunt with mini bottles of booze. It was easily one of the most laid back and drunken easter's in the history of my easter extravaganzas to date. I think I will repeat the experience every year for the rest of time.

High Winds on the Ravenel Bridge

Winds were blowing hard last night, and still at it when I woke up this morning. I got to Starbuck’s in North Charleston just before the storm blew in. One thing is for sure – storms in the south do not mess around. This thing was crazy. The doors to the building flew open and rain streamed inside as if the clouds were purposely tilting at an obscure angle to ensure proper water flow into the building.

The drive up to North Charleston was eerie enough, with high winds and random flashes of lightening in the darker than usual sky. I’m just glad I didn’t have to drive in that rain.

One thing that is good about southern storms though, that I’ve experienced to date, is that they don’t seem to last long. I mean – yes it is still rainy outside. But the vicious power of this morning’s downpour is long over. Not that I would mind a repeat now that I am safely inside. I love thunderstorms. Something about the rumbling and clashing of things you can’t control. Especially when you’re safe and cozy in your house. But things seem to have settled down for the time being. We’ll see how the rest of the day goes.

If I haven't said it before I'll say it now. PBR and Plantain Fritters and Fuel. Delicious. Satisfying. $4.75. What else could you ask for on a warm day with high winds?

Rainy days and comfort foods

So I failed, once again, at not using my credit card. But to be fair – I lost my debit card during the St. Patty’s disaster of 2011, and have absolutely no way to access cash because Bank of America is insane and charges a monthly fee if you use the tellers. Seems ridiculous and a little evil because I feel like they are trying to phase out the tellers completely and replace them with robots..but that’s another issue.

So I HAD to use the credit card! If for no other reason but to fight against the oncoming threat of robot bank attendants!

Friday was a wine soaked celebration for Petra’s new job! Yay! And a great night at Blind Tiger and The Rooftop. For those who have never been, both of these places are wonderful in their own right, but the Rooftop is a MUST SEE for people visiting Charleston. Especially if you can make it there to watch the sun go down. It illuminates the Charleston skyline and is absolutely beautiful. Not that we necessarily appreciated that fact on Friday, but I have in the past and I surely will again. But Friday was about celebrating! And celebrate we did. We actually celebrated right into Saturday which led to mass amounts of heavy foods and yummy mimosas to ward off the late night demons.

It was cold and rainy all weekend so we fought back with chili and fried chicken, and topped it all off with the most amazing macaroni and cheese known to man. I don’t know how he did it, but Mike managed to fit 87 pounds of cheddar, pepper jack, gouda with heavy cream, butter and bacon all in one measly baking dish to produce the most glorious cheesy goodness of all time. It was the comfort food of champions and the recipe (that I am improvising on because he cooked while the rest of us laid around the house) is listed below

1. Box of fun shaped noodles
2. 1 pound of bacon – cooked and diced
3. 1 pound of cheddar cheese – shredded
4. 16 ounces of gouda cheese – shredded
5. 8 ounces of pepper jack cheese – shredded
6. Heavy cream – lots
7. Butter – 2 sticks
8. Flour – to make a roué – look it up because I don’t know how it’s done
9. Milk – dash and a sprinkle
10. Bread crumbs

From what I could tell – he cooked the noodles as you normally would and then placed them in a large baking dish.

Then you make a roué using the butter and flour, like I said, look it up because every time I’ve tried to make a roué I’ve failed miserably because I’m never willing to use the appropriate amount of butter.

After the roué was finished there was heavy cream, milk and some of the cheese mixed in and stirred until it was uber creamy. And then in went the bacon. I know right. Wow.

This creamy cheesy bacony awesome mixture was dumped on top of the noodles and mixed. THEN the rest of the cheeses went on top and some sort of spicy yumminess that I don’t know what it was. I’m guessing some sort of cajun seasoning or red pepper.

Then some sliced tomatoes went on top and bread crumbs to finish it off.

The whole thing went into the oven without a timer and apparently he smelled its readiness because when it came out it was the most awesome meal of all time.

It is still raining and cold here, a disgusting 45 degrees. So I think I will rationalize eating the leftovers of this cheesy wonder tonight with a glass of wine or two. Then tomorrow it will be back to carrot sticks and salads. But there is just something about a rainy day with good friends, bad movies and delicious food that makes life great.

Life and Times of Three Young Professionals, Part 2

From: Emily Gibbons
Sent: Tuesday, February 08, 2011 1:09 PM
To: 'Tara.Garrett'
Subject: Question about excel

Hi TG,

Will you help me with something.

I want to repeat the same formula in different lines of an excel spreadsheet. Is there a way to copy and paste the formula even though the cell blocks are changing?

For example – one formula is (I26+I27)*(I28+I29)

So I want to transfer that same formula to rows A – H….make sense?

Can you help? Do you have any idea what I’m talking about :)

Xoxoxo Em


From: Emily Gibbons
Sent: Tuesday, February 08, 2011 12:11 PM
To: Tara.Garrett
Subject: FW: Question about excel

This is the actual formula… =SUM(H14+I14)*(J14+K14)

So what I actually want to do is just change the 14 so it works for rows 1 – 13…

From: Tara.Garrett
Sent: Tuesday, February 08, 2011 1:50 PM
To: Emily Gibbons
Subject: RE: Question about excel

Yea all you have to do is drag the bottom right box across the cells you want the formula copied to

Tara Garrett | Business Analyst | Seasonal and Stationery | Target.com | 612.304.5571

From: Emily Gibbons
Sent: Tuesday, February 08, 2011 1:48 PM
To: Tara.Garrett
Subject: RE: Question about excel

I don’t get it…

From: Tara.Garrett
Sent: Tuesday, February 08, 2011 2:53 PM
To: Emily Gibbons
Subject: RE: Question about excel

Click on the cell with the formula you want copied. On the bottom right of the box there is a black box that you can click on and drag across other cells…




From: Emily Gibbons
Sent: Tuesday, February 08, 2011 1:48 PM
To: Tara.Garrett
Subject: RE: Question about excel

Omg you are a genius.

A Plane Moment

“Are you from San Diego?” Her chin wobbled as she spoke.

“Originally.” He wasn’t interested in small talk with this woman whose body was a bit too large for her seat.

“I couldn’t be more excited,” she went on without encouragement. “I’ve never been past Arizona.”

He looked at her trying to hide his disgust. He could smell hotdogs and cigarettes on her breath. There was a blotch of dried mustard on her chest.

“It’s quite a sight,” he said.

“You been gone long?” Clearly she was not getting the hint. He grunted in response.

“My name’s Kristi.” She offered with a too wide grin.

“Of course it is.” He muttered at her and turned to the window.

“Don’t you love the runway?” She said.

“Sometimes I wish the whole plane could be made of glass so we could really see everything.” She offered again when he didn’t reply.

“It’s alright.” She said after a moment. “I agree with you really. A plane is the one place in the world you can think anymore. No phones ringing, no e-mails to be answered, televisions to watch. Just you with your thoughts for the whole flight. It’s something to be treasured really.”

At that moment the flip screen televisions came to life in front of them and he grinned as she groaned to herself and shut her eyes.

Pancake Protocol

People weren’t lying when they said that southerners were gracious. For the most part I’ve found people from this area to be polite, formal and kind in ways that you don’t find as often in the north. Not that I actually believe the people here are kinder than the people of the north. But I certainly believe that they’ve had manners bred into them from day one.

Where were our lessons? When did we learn which fork to use with which hand and when? When did the boys learn to open the door for their mothers, sisters, girlfriends and just random ladies on the street? I guess those lessons got lost during impromptu dinners at Fricker’s and surprise breakfasts at Café Marie where we stuffed our faces with chicken wings and giant pancakes, where manners and etiquette were not only unexpected, they were taboo. Proper etiquette for eating giant pancakes when you are four years old varied from rolling it up and eating it with your hands, slicing it up to create dunking sticks, taking a big bite out of the middle, or any other of the fun ways you could think up to consume such and monstrous item. Come to think of it, I would most likely fall back on that same etiquette if faced with a giant pancake today that was proportional to the pancakes of my childhood – but it seems that as I’ve gotten bigger, the pancakes have stayed the same size. There is just no room for etiquette in a face paced pancake eating world.

But should that be the case? It isn’t in the south. And living here now I find myself sometimes wishing I’d been instructed on the proper way to set a table or eat a fancy meal (or pancake). At the same time though, I don’t think 4 year-old Emily would have seen the point of learning such things. Not when the pancake could be eaten with such thoughtful ingenuity, and I certainly would not have agreed to be kept inside to learn about silly girl things. Not when there were fences to climb and lakes to swim in and other such adventures to be had. Come to think of it really, I doubt that 23 year old me would much like taking the time to master such skills either.

But here I am, at the heart of southern hospitality. Let’s just hope some of it rubs off on me while I am running across town from one job to another. If not, I guess I’ll just have to stick to wings and pancake restaurants for the rest of my life. Sounds good to me.

Zeroing in on 2011

There is a moment while I am driving home where I fly past some trees that always make me think I’m getting pulled over. Not because the trees are shaped as cop cars, but because the sun is always perfectly positioned behind them to make it look as if a cops lights are going off so close behind me that he couldn’t possibly be pulling over anyone but me.

The sun seems different here. Closer in a way, or just brighter I suppose. It’s really the clouds that make the difference. The sky is always so blue and the clouds somehow manage to catch the light of the sun and the water to create a wonderful shade of orange and blue that makes me feel as if I’m in a movie scene.

New Year’s Eve was a disaster this year. Although a good way to start a year of working toward zeros. Sticking to my newly discovered workaholic tendencies I decided to work an event at the aquarium. I figured, hey two birds with one stone. I’ll get to drink for free and see the aquarium then get out in time to meet up with some people downtown to bring in the new year. WRONG.

Drinking was possible but futile because I was climbing stairs all night long carrying giant sandwiches to feed to the increasingly intoxicated masses. And this was a site to be seen in itself because this party was one of the more expensive in town and black tie at that but everyone in attendance seemed to be under 22 years old. Honestly a lot of them seemed to be under 21. They were all wearing ball gowns and tuxedos and puking all over the aquarium. At one point the project manager ran past me and said “Oh God, there is puke everywhere out there.” In another eventful turn several of the guests decided to remove some of the animals (turtles) from their displays and race them on the (very sticky) floor of the party.

Security was called. As were the turtle experts. I imagine it went something like this when they called it in.

“Code Green. Code Green. We have turtles out of ponds.” “I repeat. We have displaced turtles on the loose.” “Evacuate the area for incoming turtle experts.” “Code Green. Code Green. Turtle experts are on their way.”

Not that removing a turtle for a little racing is not something I would put past myself in a state of New Year’s Eve inebriation. Let’s not forget the T.I. incident of 2009. Or the Red Headed Ravaging of 2006. It’s New Year’s, things get a little crazy. Which is why it rubbed salt in my already irritated cut of being trapped working on such a day. But I brought it on myself. Why? Because this is 2011. The year of zero’s.

By this time next year I hope to be the proud owner of:
1.Two credit cards with a balance of ZERO.
2.One 2008 Ford Focus on which the remaining balance is ZERO.
3.A student loan payment on which I owe ZERO.
4.Another student loan payment on which there are less ZEROs.
5.ZERO car accidents or traffic tickets.
6.And ZERO regret about the fact that I didn’t save up enough money to go to Europe this summer

So here we go, a year of zero’s. But next New Year’s Eve, watch out turtles. Because here I come.