Bethany's Sunday 5/25

Sunday was the day before Memorial Day, and this is what we did to memorialize.

BTW, I'm sorry. iMovie has no rotate function. So lie down before you watch it.



It's kinda cool anyway, right? I promise I'll rotate it when I figure out how.

Maria's Sunday 5/18

On this Sunday, I woke up in Northampton, MA at my sister Sarah's house.
But Sarah was at my house - we did a house swicheroo.
I was feeling good from a fun show I did the night before in Holyoke. It was Jennifer
Mysclowski's Girls! Girls!Girls! show.

Justin and I got in our piece of crap car and drove to East Longmeadow to my sister-in law Tianna's graduation. People talked about all the struggles of college they had overcome. Ok.

Then we all went out to eat at a steak place. There was a waitress there who told us all about how tired she was because she had worked a double Friday, a double yesterday, and today they needed her to stay late. I like people, but I didn't really care about her schedule. I thought about telling her some unsolicited information about myself in return. I didn't.

After the steak place, we found that our piece of crap car got a flat. Justin called Triple A. I noticed a Dick's Sporting Goods in the plaza. I bought a Diamondback bike. I was so happy to get this bike. I have been wanting one for months. On the way out of the store, I actually said, "I love Dick's!" And there is their new marketing slogan. You are welcome, Dick's.

My bike makes me so happy. Happy and a little sweaty and stinky for work. When I am riding my bike, I sometimes realize that I'm smiling like a happy retarded person or a very old person - a pure unsullied happy. I don't even try to look cool again. It's my new cool face.

Then Justin realized that we didn't even need Triple A. His OCD nature had made him put a whole new tire, instead of a spare, in the trunk. So we drove home with a new tire on the car.

Bethany's Sunday 5/18

My liver isn't speaking to me.

It tried to warn me sometime on Saturday night. It tapped me from the inside and said, "Look. This Nantucket Wine Festival stuff is great, but I'm old, and don't wanna work this hard. Tomorrow (Sunday), you need to give me water. No more wine. "

I didn't listen. Not because I didn't want to. But because this weekend of all weekends, we eat the best food, by the best chefs, which is matched to the best wines, by the best sommeliers around. I wanted to say no...

No, I didn't.

Sunday started out swimmingly. It was sunny and 58°, a spectacular day for Nantucket in May. We enjoyed it with a breakfast sandwich (ham, egg & cheese on the fluffiest english muffin) and orange juice (Nantucket Nectar, of course!). I helped hubby open wine for his table, then went to a cooking demonstration, where I learned:

• sous vide is not fancy or douchey, it's just another way to cook things
• mustard ice cream sounds gross, but tastes great on sous vide pork
• the char of a grill on your meat is worse for you than liquid nitrogen

I saw many former colleagues at many wine tables, and tried the yummy things they said I had to try. And I spit. I swear. Because that's what wine people do, and what my liver wanted me to do.

But then, (after a Thursday, Friday, and Saturday of eating the best food and drinking the best wine) at 5:00, after the big tasting event ended, the guys from Island Creek Oysters decided they didn't want to waste all the bushels of oysters they had leftover. So they set up shop on the patio of the Boarding House, and shucked and shucked, while everyone ate and ate. Yes, and drank. I had a sparkling pinot noir from Slovenia (right?). It was exactly what oysters like. We had dinner plans looming, so I decided not to research the answer to the question "How many oysters does it take for a Bethany to get wicked ill?" But I can tell you it's not 12.

I was still on speaking terms with my liver at this point. It was tentative, but still speaking to me.

Then... 7 of us went to a friend, and amazing chef's restaurant, with 6 bottles of wine in tow. Our sommelier friend, who is not one to be outdone, gleefully matched our 6, and raised us 3. And invited us to stay for a "night cap" after the restaurant closed. Because he had a $1000 bottle of wine he thought we might like to try.

Then my liver stopped talking to me.

It is talking, just not to me. I am almost positive that while we were standing on line waiting for our ferry back home, through a fog that was not coming from Nantucket, I heard my liver speaking to the ocean gods, beseeching them to toss our boat around like a 90 lb. cheerleader.

Apparently the ocean gods do listen to my liver.

Maria's Sunday 5/11

Whoa people it was Mother's Day this past Sunday!

Aaaaaaaaah Ciampa family gathering.
***
(Quick explanation: there are 7 kids in Maria's family. 3 girls, one boy in the middle, and another 3 girls. She is the 5th. She grew up in an old Victorian house in Beverly where there was lots of food, yelling, running around, and confusion. Certain bathrooms in the house never worked, so you needed to plan where you were going to take a shit, an hope it panned out for you. The house was part of the underground railroad and, along with standards like 'house' and 'doctor', as a young girl, Maria enjoyed playing 'let's free the slaves'. Once, in an effort to educate his children, Maria's father Papa dissected a sand shark on the family's kitchen table . It had washed up on the beach down the street. Maria was fascinated. In her native environment, Maria tends to revert to old behaviors, like making very loud stupid jokes for attention and eating everything that exists. Maria just realized that these are also current behaviors.)
***
My sister Dr. Sarah Ciampa, OD (7th kid of 7) was visiting the weekend and we made the brave trek to the Beverly Ciampa house together.

On the way there, we stopped at Esposito's on Rt. 1 in Revere and bought Calzone, cookies, and pastries. Ciampas make sure not to eat anything healthy when they convene.

When we got there, we were immediately directed to the 27 tons of homemade leftovers from the night before.

There was:
stuffed mushrooms
stuffed shells
chicken cordon bleu (this was disconcerting to Papa, who in his 82 years had never eaten it)
asparagus
tomato sauce and meatballs
fancy bread from a fancy bakery
pound cake
lots of wine
cheese
crackers
cookies

And everything else you could ever imagine eating.

I started with chicken, mushrooms, and shells. We ate. My father talked about how McCain was a war hero. He said something about taxes and what our country needs. Papa was in WWII, and all he cares about is that the "banana-brains in the government not take his money."

Then Sarah, Mom and I took Precious for a walk. Precious is a Yorkshire terrier. Why yes, funny that you ask, my Mom DID used to breed Yorkshire terriers. At one point, when I was in high school, there were about 48 yippy little shit dogs running around. The more to kick! I thought at the time. (I never kicked them. I did think about it. One of my sisters did put one in the microwave. She did not turn it on. I think.)

On the walk, we talked about what people we know are doing, who has cancer, and family fights. It was awful.

Then we got back home and Mom insisted that Sarah and I change into sweatsuits and do some gardening with her. She laid out the sweatsuits on Sarah's old bed, she informed us. My brother mowed the lawn and burped and farted a lot. My father feebly pushed a Kohl's cart around the yard, picking up weeds with his one hand that works and putting them in the pushcart. When he did this, he looked like a refugee from the Eastern Block. Papa and Joe yelled at each other and made comments to me and Sarah about the other one when they thought the other was out of earshot.

Then I watered the garden and planted some bulbs. Sarah held the hose and watered for a bit too. We did not change into sweatsuits though.

Then second round of eating - asparagus, stuffed mushrooms, red wine, about a whole sausage and pepper calzone, and all the pastries and cookies I could possibly fit into my organ called a stomach. By this time, I reverted back to 11 year old Maria, and the sweatsuit was calling to me. An elastic waistband would be awesome right about now, I thought as I ate 11 more canole.

Then came the part of the Ciampa family gathering where Mom tells us to take all her plates, kitchen gadgets and food. Surprisingly, Sarah took her up on this and began to wrap gold line fancy plates from the dining room cabinets in newspaper. She was serious. I think she'll get married soon - this is a sure sign in our family. When any of my sisters have started to let Mom give them plates or pans or juicers or food dehydrators or ravioli makers, they are gonna get hitched soon.

I took Mom's lemon press and a teapot. I love the teapot. Also some non-alcoholic champagne she put in my bag. I don't know why - my fight was diminished by that point.

It took me 6 days to recover from this Sunday. And I am 4 pounds heavier from it.

Bethany's Sunday 5/11

I had an audition Sunday evening.

But before that, and quite importantly, it was Mother's Day. I wanted to pick an outfit that would work swimmingly for both things, because I am a lazy cow and knew that I would rather nap than change between things.

I wanted to stay away from my everyday outfit of a button down shirt, sweater vest, skinny jeans and sneakers. Please be aware that I do not wear the same button down shirt, sweater vest, skinny jeans and sneakers everyday. But it does seem like everyday I have some version of that on.

I didn't try to stay away from it because that outfit doesn't represent me. It does so well. I just wanted to show Mother's Day, and my audition, that I thought they were very special, special enough to wear a different outfit, than I do everyday.

This is what came of it:
orange Walgreen's tank top under a
cream long sleeve t-shirt under a
brown cropped sweater w/orange, purple and other colored embroidered flowers
blue skinny jeans
pale gold silk ballet flats
purple head band

I know. The skinny jeans were still in there. But they were blue, not black. And skinny jeans will be out of style soon enough. So I wear them everyday now that they are hip, to make up for the future, in which I will be still wearing them everyday, but looking out of date and stupid.

Nobody hated it, or at least nobody said so.

I had eggs benedict, and 1 bellini. I wouldn't have had 1 even, but it was Mother's Day and mommy likes when I sometimes relax, and have a drink on Sunday afternoons.

I went home and Googled 'orange' and 'purple', and was satisfied enough with their so called meanings to keep my outfit on. I napped an hour and went to my audition.

If I did good at all, it's because of this;

I walked into the Studio and up to the booth. A bunch of boy comics were standing there, Ken Reid was one, and before I said 'hi' he said "BVD, which is the best Schwarzenegger movie for quotes?" Without pause I said "Commando." He said "Nice."

I said "Haff yoo seen my taaaawtaah Chenny?!" He laughed.

Now everything was good.

I did my audition, and I think it was just fine.

See you very soon, David Letterman!

Maria's Sunday 5/4

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Bethany's Sunday 5/4

Sometimes, 2 people,

no matter how much they love each other

do not want to eat the same thing

for breakfast.

So I made french toast

for hubby,

and a Morning Quesadilla

for me.

mmmmm!!

Scrambled eggs,

sauteed onions & green peppers,

black beans & shredded cheese,

pan fried between 2 tortillas,

served with homemade salsa.

Then it was time to drive

to Wrentham again,

to see hubby's future suit,

(one more time)

and pretend to return my wide leg jeans,

(one more time).

This time he bought it!

Hooray!

Special thanks to:

Ermenegildo Zegna,

for making undeniably lovely fabric;

Jean,

for offering just the right balance of flattery

and professionalism;

Tom E. Morello,

for sharing your fine toggery knowledge;
and me,

for not giving up on

wanting to see my man

in a fine, italian made,

navy blue suit.