godparent: (n) a person who stands sponsor to another at baptism.
The original itinerary for this east coast tour called for a trip to Raleigh, North Carolina, after my visit with Diana. Unfortunately there was a snafu of sorts which arose a few weeks ago and I was no longer able to travel south. So instead I headed west a few days early to Abingdon, Virginia, where my Godparents and cousin, Shannon, live. It was another LONG drive, clear across the state of Virginia, but with fall rolling in, the colorful foliage that blanketed the mountains made the drive simply gorgeous. Though it had been years since I last visited their Virginia home, the extremely narrow roads and the near vertical pitch of the driveway were unforgettable. I arrived with enough time for Aunt Mary Kay to fix me some lunch before she left for work. Shannon was due home from her job an hour later, so I took advantage of the down time to play with her new kitten. Apart from the run that Shannon and I went on together in town later that afternoon, my brief trip to Abingdon was primarily spent catching up with my extended family at the house. Shannon and I had our girl talk before Uncle Larry returned home with cousin Preston who was visiting from college. We all had dinner, and Uncle Larry attempted to bake cookies, before Aunt Mary Kay returned home from work.
Though the visit to Abingdon was brief, my time with Pionk family was not over yet. Preston's fiancé's parents, the Stepps, are season football ticket holders at Virginia Tech. where Preston, and his fiancé Jessica attend, where Diana and her boyfriend Jay graduated from, and where my friend Stacey and her husband Chad work. The Stepps offered 3 of their 6 tickets to Aunt Mary Kay, Uncle Larry and me. So Saturday morning the whole house was up bright and early for game day.
Sunday, October 9, 2011
Saturday, October 8, 2011
cous-in
cousin: (n) the son or daughter of an uncle or aunt.
Unfortunately my timing leaving Washington D.C. lined up perfectly with Monday evening rush hour. So the drive to Quinton, Virginia got off to a slower start than hoped for. Regardless, I made it to Diana's house in the woods relatively smoothly. Diana is my first cousin on my mother's side of the family and is also my God-Sister. My parents are Diana's God-Parents and Diana's parents are my God-Parents, so we call ourselves God-Sisters. Jay, Diana's boyfriend, treated the three of us to burgers and beer in downtown Richmond shortly after my arrival. Both were absolutely delicious and just what I needed to end the day.
Diana is a full time Pharmacy student in Richmond, Virginia. Between her classes on Tuesday we spent the mid-day exploring Carrytown, a historic shopping district outside of the city. It was a cutesy sort of place with quirky shops that lined the main street. Without any actual shopping agendas of our own we set off to explore anything that caught our eyes. An antique clothing store was the first to draw us in. This store may very well have been the most incredible store I had ever stepped foot in. Filled with hundreds of original and replica pieces of clothing, jewelry, and accessories from the 1920s through the 1970s, the two of us could have spent every penny we own in that place. Reluctantly we resisted, but did spend a majority of our afternoon there trying on hats and rings and shoes and dresses from decades we were never fortunate enough to live in. When hunger set in we left our antique and vintage fantasy store in search of food. But of course we were distracted once and again by other quirky boutiques. Out of time, we elected for lunch at home before Diana had to return to campus. When she left, I had the rest of the day at the house to read, relax, nap... At that point in my travels I had hit a wall of fatigue. Up until then I had been go-go-go, get up and run in the morning, go on adventures all day, stay out late all night, and do it again tomorrow, then drive a hundred miles or so the next day. After Carrytown browsing, I slept until 8 at night and only woke because had Diana returned home from school. We made dinner together before she retired for the night. I, on the other hand, had doomed myself to be awake for at least another 6 hours.
This of course offset my sleeping pattern for the next few days. Luckily my cousin's class schedule had her away from the house until late afternoon anyway. It was nearly noon before I opened my eyes on Wednesday but not a single bone in my body was at all motivated to leave the comfort of bed. Fortunately my conscious reminded me that it had been a week and a half since my last run, which was completely unacceptable. Diana's house sits on a lake in a densely wooded neighborhood with dirt roads and cottage-like houses, which made for a wonderfully scenic afternoon run. Aside from the run, I moved at a snail-like pace the rest of the day accomplishing very little outside of relaxation. In the evening my cousin returned and we headed out for pizza and girl talk. Our chatter continued at home over cookies and re-runs of Grey's Anatomy before bed.
Thursday was much like Wednesday for me; a slow start to the morning before my run, followed by an afternoon of rest and relaxation. Around 4 Diana had returned home to pick me up for our evening winery tour. Just up the road from her house is a winery, only a few years old, which offers tours and wine tasting. The building itself, more than the actual winery, was of particular interest to me. The builder, based in Richmond, specializes in using recycled materials from dismantled older buildings in his construction. The bricks, the wooden beams, floors, and ceilings, the doors, were all salvaged and used in the winery. Of course, the wine was good too. Diana and I each purchased a bottle at the end of our tour then watched the sun go down over the vineyard from the porch. Jay, who had been gone since Tuesday morning for work, was expecting us to pick him up in the evening, so we left the porch for the city. Not that it was entirely our fault, but finding the rendezvous point was nearly impossible for the two of us. We drove around for ages before we finally found the place which we must have passed a half a dozen times. Jay tired from work, and we girls tired from the drive, we all agreed on take-out and Tigers at home for dinner. All three of us had an early morning ahead, but I could not rest until the game was over.
Unfortunately my timing leaving Washington D.C. lined up perfectly with Monday evening rush hour. So the drive to Quinton, Virginia got off to a slower start than hoped for. Regardless, I made it to Diana's house in the woods relatively smoothly. Diana is my first cousin on my mother's side of the family and is also my God-Sister. My parents are Diana's God-Parents and Diana's parents are my God-Parents, so we call ourselves God-Sisters. Jay, Diana's boyfriend, treated the three of us to burgers and beer in downtown Richmond shortly after my arrival. Both were absolutely delicious and just what I needed to end the day.
Diana is a full time Pharmacy student in Richmond, Virginia. Between her classes on Tuesday we spent the mid-day exploring Carrytown, a historic shopping district outside of the city. It was a cutesy sort of place with quirky shops that lined the main street. Without any actual shopping agendas of our own we set off to explore anything that caught our eyes. An antique clothing store was the first to draw us in. This store may very well have been the most incredible store I had ever stepped foot in. Filled with hundreds of original and replica pieces of clothing, jewelry, and accessories from the 1920s through the 1970s, the two of us could have spent every penny we own in that place. Reluctantly we resisted, but did spend a majority of our afternoon there trying on hats and rings and shoes and dresses from decades we were never fortunate enough to live in. When hunger set in we left our antique and vintage fantasy store in search of food. But of course we were distracted once and again by other quirky boutiques. Out of time, we elected for lunch at home before Diana had to return to campus. When she left, I had the rest of the day at the house to read, relax, nap... At that point in my travels I had hit a wall of fatigue. Up until then I had been go-go-go, get up and run in the morning, go on adventures all day, stay out late all night, and do it again tomorrow, then drive a hundred miles or so the next day. After Carrytown browsing, I slept until 8 at night and only woke because had Diana returned home from school. We made dinner together before she retired for the night. I, on the other hand, had doomed myself to be awake for at least another 6 hours.
This of course offset my sleeping pattern for the next few days. Luckily my cousin's class schedule had her away from the house until late afternoon anyway. It was nearly noon before I opened my eyes on Wednesday but not a single bone in my body was at all motivated to leave the comfort of bed. Fortunately my conscious reminded me that it had been a week and a half since my last run, which was completely unacceptable. Diana's house sits on a lake in a densely wooded neighborhood with dirt roads and cottage-like houses, which made for a wonderfully scenic afternoon run. Aside from the run, I moved at a snail-like pace the rest of the day accomplishing very little outside of relaxation. In the evening my cousin returned and we headed out for pizza and girl talk. Our chatter continued at home over cookies and re-runs of Grey's Anatomy before bed.
Thursday was much like Wednesday for me; a slow start to the morning before my run, followed by an afternoon of rest and relaxation. Around 4 Diana had returned home to pick me up for our evening winery tour. Just up the road from her house is a winery, only a few years old, which offers tours and wine tasting. The building itself, more than the actual winery, was of particular interest to me. The builder, based in Richmond, specializes in using recycled materials from dismantled older buildings in his construction. The bricks, the wooden beams, floors, and ceilings, the doors, were all salvaged and used in the winery. Of course, the wine was good too. Diana and I each purchased a bottle at the end of our tour then watched the sun go down over the vineyard from the porch. Jay, who had been gone since Tuesday morning for work, was expecting us to pick him up in the evening, so we left the porch for the city. Not that it was entirely our fault, but finding the rendezvous point was nearly impossible for the two of us. We drove around for ages before we finally found the place which we must have passed a half a dozen times. Jay tired from work, and we girls tired from the drive, we all agreed on take-out and Tigers at home for dinner. All three of us had an early morning ahead, but I could not rest until the game was over.
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
Wash-ing-ton
Washington: (n) Also called Washington, D.C. the capital of the United States, on the Potomac between Maryland and Virginia; coextensive with the District of Columbia.
Riding the train out of the city was a bit depressing as I came down from the high of Manhattan and the victory of the "Little Brown Jug" game, not to mention that I was also dreading the drive ahead. However, 6 and 1/2 hour drive turned out to be the most interesting so far, for as interesting as driving can be. Long after dark I came upon a new section of highway near a major interstate interchange. The 5 year old Garmin GPS my father was so kind to lend me had no knowledge of this new construction, and led me to drive in circles on and off the highway shouting, "when possible, make a U-turn!" in an automated female voice. Note to all GPS users: Update your Garmin BEFORE taking a long road trip. Did you know that in New Jersey people are paid to pump your gas for you? This was news to me and threw me for a loop when I pulled into a station a few hours later. It was the first and only time anyone had ever pumped my gas. Not 10 minutes after that I stopped for the toll booth where the attendant asked me, "Are you running away from home?" "Road trip," I answered, confused by the question. Much later it occurred to me that his inquiry was likely spurred by the sight my car filled with nearly half of all that I own piled in laundry baskets and duffle bags which I had packed for the trip. That was the last bit of "interesting" on the drive before I arrived in D.C. well after midnight. Melissa Maynard, older sister of my dear college friend Kelley Maynard and as of this past July my friend as well, was my Washington host. Over some milk and cookies we shared for a bit about life, long enough for me to decompress and allow fatigue to set in.
Sunday morning, over a delicious breakfast at a local hot spot, Melissa and I continued our previous evening's conversation. In the midst of exchanging stories of love, life, and loss, a feeling of homesickness swallowed me whole, or perhaps girl-friend-sickness would be a better term. Pouring out the silly internal thoughts from all depths of my female brain to another woman who is just as complex, and who had shared just as much with me, was just what I needed. It was a very real reminder of how valuable girl friends are, and how lonely I have been without them during my year abroad and weeks of solo traveling. The girly chatter was a continuous soundtrack to my D.C. experience. After breakfast we took Baxter, Melissa's golden-doodle, to the nearby dog park for some exercise before driving to the Mall for some monument touring. The new Martin Luther King Jr. memorial was the latest addition to the Washington Mall and was our priority number one. Despite the rain, the monument was quite beautiful and rather moving. From there we braved the weather and walked around the water all the way to the Jefferson monument, the only one I had not seen during my previous visit to D.C. while in college. Still un-phased by the rain and cold, we continued further onto the Mall and into the city. A few more monuments and Smithsonians later, our stomachs alerted us that it was nearly dinner time. While sharing a bottle of wine, Melissa prepared a delicious home cooked meal for the two of us which we both filled ourselves on to a comatose state.
While Melissa worked on Monday, I spent the day exploring more of Washington D.C. on my own. It began with a rendezvous at a classy lunch joint across the street from her office for our last girly gab before I left town later that afternoon. She gave me a tour of her office, which was renovated in an Apple store-like fashion, and then said goodbye. The Holocaust museum, which I had been eager to see, caught my eye the day before and was my first destination. In the future I hope to return when I have an entire day and evening available to devote to this one exhibit. Mentally and emotionally I came ill prepared. The depression became far too strong for me to finish the walk through, so I left. Outside, even the cold and rainy day seemed uplifting. With time to spare due to my early departure from the previous museum, I went on a search for the Hope Diamond. Nothing like a large sparkling gem to brighten a girl's day. The geological exhibit of precious stone which leads viewers to the Hope Diamond was actually more interesting than the diamond itself. Though anti-climatic, my depression had subsided enough and I was ready to move on.
Riding the train out of the city was a bit depressing as I came down from the high of Manhattan and the victory of the "Little Brown Jug" game, not to mention that I was also dreading the drive ahead. However, 6 and 1/2 hour drive turned out to be the most interesting so far, for as interesting as driving can be. Long after dark I came upon a new section of highway near a major interstate interchange. The 5 year old Garmin GPS my father was so kind to lend me had no knowledge of this new construction, and led me to drive in circles on and off the highway shouting, "when possible, make a U-turn!" in an automated female voice. Note to all GPS users: Update your Garmin BEFORE taking a long road trip. Did you know that in New Jersey people are paid to pump your gas for you? This was news to me and threw me for a loop when I pulled into a station a few hours later. It was the first and only time anyone had ever pumped my gas. Not 10 minutes after that I stopped for the toll booth where the attendant asked me, "Are you running away from home?" "Road trip," I answered, confused by the question. Much later it occurred to me that his inquiry was likely spurred by the sight my car filled with nearly half of all that I own piled in laundry baskets and duffle bags which I had packed for the trip. That was the last bit of "interesting" on the drive before I arrived in D.C. well after midnight. Melissa Maynard, older sister of my dear college friend Kelley Maynard and as of this past July my friend as well, was my Washington host. Over some milk and cookies we shared for a bit about life, long enough for me to decompress and allow fatigue to set in.
Sunday morning, over a delicious breakfast at a local hot spot, Melissa and I continued our previous evening's conversation. In the midst of exchanging stories of love, life, and loss, a feeling of homesickness swallowed me whole, or perhaps girl-friend-sickness would be a better term. Pouring out the silly internal thoughts from all depths of my female brain to another woman who is just as complex, and who had shared just as much with me, was just what I needed. It was a very real reminder of how valuable girl friends are, and how lonely I have been without them during my year abroad and weeks of solo traveling. The girly chatter was a continuous soundtrack to my D.C. experience. After breakfast we took Baxter, Melissa's golden-doodle, to the nearby dog park for some exercise before driving to the Mall for some monument touring. The new Martin Luther King Jr. memorial was the latest addition to the Washington Mall and was our priority number one. Despite the rain, the monument was quite beautiful and rather moving. From there we braved the weather and walked around the water all the way to the Jefferson monument, the only one I had not seen during my previous visit to D.C. while in college. Still un-phased by the rain and cold, we continued further onto the Mall and into the city. A few more monuments and Smithsonians later, our stomachs alerted us that it was nearly dinner time. While sharing a bottle of wine, Melissa prepared a delicious home cooked meal for the two of us which we both filled ourselves on to a comatose state.
While Melissa worked on Monday, I spent the day exploring more of Washington D.C. on my own. It began with a rendezvous at a classy lunch joint across the street from her office for our last girly gab before I left town later that afternoon. She gave me a tour of her office, which was renovated in an Apple store-like fashion, and then said goodbye. The Holocaust museum, which I had been eager to see, caught my eye the day before and was my first destination. In the future I hope to return when I have an entire day and evening available to devote to this one exhibit. Mentally and emotionally I came ill prepared. The depression became far too strong for me to finish the walk through, so I left. Outside, even the cold and rainy day seemed uplifting. With time to spare due to my early departure from the previous museum, I went on a search for the Hope Diamond. Nothing like a large sparkling gem to brighten a girl's day. The geological exhibit of precious stone which leads viewers to the Hope Diamond was actually more interesting than the diamond itself. Though anti-climatic, my depression had subsided enough and I was ready to move on.
Sunday, October 2, 2011
Man-hat-tan
Manhattan: (n) an island in New York City surrounded by the Hudson, East, and Harlem rivers. 13 1/2 miles long; 2 1/2 miles greatest width; 22 1/4 sq. mi.
The rain continued strong into Thursday at which point I packed my bags, stopped by the campground to say goodbye to Brandon, and drove to the Poughkeepsie Amtrak station to catch the afternoon train into New York City. The drive may as well have been through a hurricane. Wind and rain blew fast and hard enough to eliminate visibility completely, which of course resulted in all vehicles moving at a crawling pace on the highway. Strategic planning and the delay of my train left me a comfortable time window to check in and board without a problem. Penn station could not have been busier when I arrived in the city. Overwhelmed by the crowd of rush hour commuters, I frantically pushed my way to the edge of the chaos to phone Mike. Aside from our college graduation at the Big House, the last time I had seen Mike, also known as Schemo, was partying at a bar in downtown Ann Arbor. So I was quite surprised to recognize that the man in the business suit and tie, carrying a shoulder bag, and walking toward me was indeed my friend. After a quick embrace, he took my duffel bag and navigated the two of us out of the unusually chaotic train station. He explained to me once we were above ground that a lightning strike only a few hours prior to my arrival had caused some of the rails to shut down, delaying thousands of travelers who had since accumulated into the mess of people which we had just emerged from. Our breath of air in the open of the city did not last long before we were descending again into the subway. Mike attempted to explain to me the intricacies of the New York subway system during our short underground ride. Unfortunately I was already on sensory overload and absorbed very little of the information he was sharing. Wall Street was our exit; that was the only thing I retained. Due to the "Occupy Wall Street" protests, the street itself was barricaded off and guarded by police and only the sidewalks were passable. We turned into the lobby of Mike's apartment building, an old bank skyscraper converted to residential tower, where my name was already on the list to allow me to enter and exit the building at my leisure during my stay. After a few minutes of decompression time, we were back out in the city for an evening tour and dinner. The only other time I had been to New York City was when I was 15. My high school choir traveled to the Big Apple to perform in Carnegie Hall. During that visit I was able to do most of the New York touristy activities like the Empire State Building, Central Park, Times Square, Ground Zero, etc. and appreciated none of it. Funny thing about 15-year-olds, they tend to be angry about everything for no reason at all. Fortunately this time around I was far beyond my rebellious teenage years and able to view the city with fresh eyes and by way of a "local."
As I suppose a day in the life of a New York City business man goes, Mike had a golf outing with colleagues all day Friday, which left me with a morning to sleep in and an entire day to explore. Originally my goal had been to visit Ellis Island, a very important place of history to me which I have never been to before, however my evening orientation of the city was not enough for me to be able to navigate New York successfully on my own. Getting lost and found and lost again was a good way to explore though. Unfortunately by the time I actually made it to the ferry dock, the day's tickets to the island were already sold out. Not to worry, I was having plenty of fun wandering about. From the very end of lower Manhattan, I decided to try to make my way to Central Park. This I knew would require a trip on the subway, which I successfully rode and never missed a stop. The day was nearly over when I finally heard from Mike, and I was somewhere in the middle of Central Park. Not knowing how exactly I had gotten to where I was or how to get back, I sent him a picture message of a nearby land mark and stayed put. We spent a few more hours in the park once Mike found me, before another city tour during which we took a moment to "sit on the steps of St. Patrick's" to "watch the world go by;" a song lyric by Jason Lavasseur and my entire reasoning for visiting the church. Dark had long set in on the city and both of us were utterly exhausted. Exhausted enough to skip the bar and go for pizza and beer at home during the Tigers vs. Yankees game. Well, the game never made it past the second inning on account of rain, and neither did we.
The early night served us well the next day though. College Football Saturday! Mike and I often spent these days together, along with several of our friends, back in Ann Arbor. Though this was most certainly NOT Ann Arbor, the University of Michigan Alumni Association of New York City provided an excellent venue for game watching. They had reserved an entire bar for the alumni that day, so when we walked in off the street we found ourselves in a sea of maize. It was a small feeling of home. Mike and I joined up with Marissa and another group of her friends at the bar for the game. Michigan shut out Minnesota the entire game bringing victory and the "Little Brown Jug" to the Maize and Blue. Unfortunately I was not able to stay and celebrate after the game; it was time for me to continue on my way.
The rain continued strong into Thursday at which point I packed my bags, stopped by the campground to say goodbye to Brandon, and drove to the Poughkeepsie Amtrak station to catch the afternoon train into New York City. The drive may as well have been through a hurricane. Wind and rain blew fast and hard enough to eliminate visibility completely, which of course resulted in all vehicles moving at a crawling pace on the highway. Strategic planning and the delay of my train left me a comfortable time window to check in and board without a problem. Penn station could not have been busier when I arrived in the city. Overwhelmed by the crowd of rush hour commuters, I frantically pushed my way to the edge of the chaos to phone Mike. Aside from our college graduation at the Big House, the last time I had seen Mike, also known as Schemo, was partying at a bar in downtown Ann Arbor. So I was quite surprised to recognize that the man in the business suit and tie, carrying a shoulder bag, and walking toward me was indeed my friend. After a quick embrace, he took my duffel bag and navigated the two of us out of the unusually chaotic train station. He explained to me once we were above ground that a lightning strike only a few hours prior to my arrival had caused some of the rails to shut down, delaying thousands of travelers who had since accumulated into the mess of people which we had just emerged from. Our breath of air in the open of the city did not last long before we were descending again into the subway. Mike attempted to explain to me the intricacies of the New York subway system during our short underground ride. Unfortunately I was already on sensory overload and absorbed very little of the information he was sharing. Wall Street was our exit; that was the only thing I retained. Due to the "Occupy Wall Street" protests, the street itself was barricaded off and guarded by police and only the sidewalks were passable. We turned into the lobby of Mike's apartment building, an old bank skyscraper converted to residential tower, where my name was already on the list to allow me to enter and exit the building at my leisure during my stay. After a few minutes of decompression time, we were back out in the city for an evening tour and dinner. The only other time I had been to New York City was when I was 15. My high school choir traveled to the Big Apple to perform in Carnegie Hall. During that visit I was able to do most of the New York touristy activities like the Empire State Building, Central Park, Times Square, Ground Zero, etc. and appreciated none of it. Funny thing about 15-year-olds, they tend to be angry about everything for no reason at all. Fortunately this time around I was far beyond my rebellious teenage years and able to view the city with fresh eyes and by way of a "local."
As I suppose a day in the life of a New York City business man goes, Mike had a golf outing with colleagues all day Friday, which left me with a morning to sleep in and an entire day to explore. Originally my goal had been to visit Ellis Island, a very important place of history to me which I have never been to before, however my evening orientation of the city was not enough for me to be able to navigate New York successfully on my own. Getting lost and found and lost again was a good way to explore though. Unfortunately by the time I actually made it to the ferry dock, the day's tickets to the island were already sold out. Not to worry, I was having plenty of fun wandering about. From the very end of lower Manhattan, I decided to try to make my way to Central Park. This I knew would require a trip on the subway, which I successfully rode and never missed a stop. The day was nearly over when I finally heard from Mike, and I was somewhere in the middle of Central Park. Not knowing how exactly I had gotten to where I was or how to get back, I sent him a picture message of a nearby land mark and stayed put. We spent a few more hours in the park once Mike found me, before another city tour during which we took a moment to "sit on the steps of St. Patrick's" to "watch the world go by;" a song lyric by Jason Lavasseur and my entire reasoning for visiting the church. Dark had long set in on the city and both of us were utterly exhausted. Exhausted enough to skip the bar and go for pizza and beer at home during the Tigers vs. Yankees game. Well, the game never made it past the second inning on account of rain, and neither did we.
The early night served us well the next day though. College Football Saturday! Mike and I often spent these days together, along with several of our friends, back in Ann Arbor. Though this was most certainly NOT Ann Arbor, the University of Michigan Alumni Association of New York City provided an excellent venue for game watching. They had reserved an entire bar for the alumni that day, so when we walked in off the street we found ourselves in a sea of maize. It was a small feeling of home. Mike and I joined up with Marissa and another group of her friends at the bar for the game. Michigan shut out Minnesota the entire game bringing victory and the "Little Brown Jug" to the Maize and Blue. Unfortunately I was not able to stay and celebrate after the game; it was time for me to continue on my way.
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