Category: Anecdote (Page 29 of 31)

Star-Spangled Trip to Camden Yards

May 14, 2009 / Katie L. Carroll

I went to Camden Yards for the first time this past weekend. I hadn’t been to Baltimore since eighth grade when my class stopped there for a few hours on the way to Washington, D.C, and was pleasantly surprised at all it had to offer. My brother-in-law and my nephew (the 9-year-old) have gone there a bunch of times over the last few years and really love the ballpark.

We went to see the Yankees play the Orioles on Friday and Saturday night. I swear there were as many, if not more, Yankees fans there than Orioles fans. I guess that’s because now you really do have to agree to give up your first-born child in order to pay for tickets to the new Yankee Stadium, unless you want to sit in seats with obstructed views (and I thought engineers were supposed to be smart!). I haven’t even been to the new Yankee Stadium yet and I’m already missing the old one.

Anyway, back to my trip to Baltimore. Let me warn you in advance (because no one bothered to tell me) that if you do go to Camden Yards keep on your guard during the singing of the Star-Spangled Banner. Orioles fans shout “O’s!” (short for Orioles) when it gets to the line “Oh, say does that…” Aside from having thousands of shouting fans scare the crap out of me, I had some mixed feelings about defiling our national anthem (who knew I was such a patriot?).

Up next: How my trip to Baltimore made me realize my observations are right in line with those of a couple of septuagenarians (scary, I know!).

Wandering Around NYC Eating Cannoli

April 2, 2009 / Katie L. Carroll

While I was in New York City, I had some time to wander around (okay, hobble around…curse my stupid medial meniscus!). I was in the mood for a cannoli, so I hopped on the subway (thank you hopstop.com) and headed to Veneiro’s Bakery. There seems to be a lot of debate about where to get a good cannoli in Manhattan, but I’m not really that picky. Honestly, can a cannoli really be bad?

I bought six mini cannolis and a little kiwi tart-thingy. The tart reminded me of one of the desserts my husband and I had eaten at the beach barbecue buffet in Tahiti. Ahhh, Tahiti. Just thinking of it makes me so relaxed…

Oh, sorry, was I talking about something…oh, right, cannolis. So I took my pastries and headed back in the direction of the subway station. I passed a church that had a bunch of benches in front of it. Its gates were open and a sign said that the church didn’t close until 1:00 a.m., so I found a nice spot to sit and enjoy the weather.

I didn’t think to check what the name of the church was, but I managed to locate it later on google maps with their street view option. (It’s scary how easy it is to see real street views on that website. Is nothing private anymore?) I was at St. Mark’s Church in the Bowery.

I had a book, my kiwi tart, and a cannoli. I had brought my iPod with me, but I found I didn’t need it. Now, I’ve noticed that a lot of my peers–and sadly those from a younger generation–are permanently attached to their music players. Don’t get me wrong, I love my iPod. But it has a place and a time.

On this particular occasion, I didn’t need it. I had the music of the city to listen to. Someone was playing a harmonica. That I couldn’t see this person made it even better. It was music from nowhere, or maybe it was from everywhere. There was the constant chatter of the street: engines, horns, shouts. The shuffle of families, artists, wanderers coming and going. The soft coo of those rats-with-wings (also known as pigeons).

At some point the harmonica’s music stopped, but I didn’t even notice because a guitar picked up right in its place. Then a young woman came and sat a little ways in front of me. She was on her phone. Her tone was serious, angry, sad. “You’re just like lawyer. Always lying…I just can’t keep doing this with you.”

She soon left and a young couple took her place. They didn’t talk much because they were sharing a serving of what looked like fried clams. Still, the crunch of the Styrofoam container, their soft chewing and little murmurs reached my ears. The church bells tolled, reminding me I had a critique appointment and a bum knee that made travel in the city a slow process.

Alas, I had lingered long enough with my music. It was time to go find a new song.

You’re Not Alone in Feeling Like It’s All Been Done Before

March 8, 2009 / Katie L. Carroll

One problem I often run across while writing (have I mentioned that I’m a writer?) is that I feel like there’s nothing new to write about. I’ll be sitting with my laptop, type, type, typing away, and I’m feeling great. I think I’m brilliant! Can I possibly come up with any more awesome ideas?

Then a few days later I reread a book and think Hmmm. Why does this feel so familiar? I must be remembering the last time I read this book. No. It’s not that. It reminds me of something I’ve read more recently. Oh, right. My moment of inspired originality. Only my writing is not nearly as good as this is. So much for having awesome ideas. This isn’t even a new complaint among writers…even my lamentations are rip-offs.

To console myself I’ve come up with a list of expressions that are disgustingly overused right now. I narrowed the list down to just three (if I didn’t cut myself off there, who knows when I would’ve stopped). These three in particular make me very angry; so angry in fact I think if I hear any of them one more time, I might just implode.

3. Shabby Chic–I’m all for a good oxymoron, but this is one of those terms that everybody’s been using to describe everything. My car is an old junker, but I covered the seats in velour, so now it’s shabby chic. (No, it’s just a piece o’ crap!) I’d call my style shabby chic because I decorated my house with a bunch of stuff I bought at a tag sale. (No, you’re just cheap and now your house is full of a bunch o’ crap that other people discarded!)

2. Dark Horse–From American Idol to NASCAR, commentators are predicting that every middle-of-the-road competitor is a dark horse. A true dark horse is racehorse, candidate, athlete, etc… that really comes from nowhere to win. By definition you can’t predict a dark horse, so stop trying to do it!

1. It is what it is–This has to be the most meaningless expression ever created. It literally has no meaning. And every reality TV star that’s getting his 15 minutes of fame is using it. Just typing this phrase caused me pain. The next time I hear someone say this, I won’t implode. I will explode into a million bloody pieces all over the place. That way at least there will be some evidence of my extreme irritation.

Finding Winter Warmth in a Village Display

January 15, 2009 / Katie L. Carroll

More snow fell this morning. Worse than that, we’re experiencing an extreme cold snap here in New England. My outdoor thermometer is reading 7.7 degrees right now (yes, that’s Fahrenheit!). Winter is getting a bit old…and there’s still over two months left of it.

A spot of winter brightness comes from a little collection of mine. My grandmother started a collection for each of my sisters and me on our eighth birthday. My two older sisters both collected Madame Alexander dolls. My younger sister ended up with a porcelain animal collection (I think made by Lennox).

When my turn came about, my grandmother took me to a store called Happy House in the mall. It was just the two of us, which made me feel very special (when you grow up in a family of seven getting one-on-one attention from an adult is a nice treat). And she was letting me pick out my collection all by myself.

Something caught my eye when I first walked into the store. It was a winter village with buildings that were bright colors and shiny. They were so pretty, and they lit up! I didn’t want to be hasty, so I made sure to walk all around the store to see what else they had to offer. My eyes kept wandering back to that village, though, and that’s what I picked.

Years later, my grandmother told me she tried her hardest to get me to pick almost anything else in the store. There were pewter figurines, Precious Moments figurines, and a bunch of other small collectibles to choose from. Apparently, my grandmother thought it would be better for me to pick something smaller than a village, seeing as there was seven of us living in a tiny two-bedroom house.

But I was eight and didn’t care about practical matters like space, and besides my collection was starting with just one building. I may have been small myself (and I was even small for my age…I always said if my siblings and I had been a litter of dogs, I would’ve been the runt that got drowned), but I certainly wasn’t thinking small. I now have over twenty buildings and countless accessories in my Snow Village. It’s still growing too, although not as rapidly as when my grandmother used to add to it twice a year (once on my birthday and again on Christmas).

I currently have it displayed in two different rooms on a total of three different surfaces. I’m a bit more discriminate when I add a large piece to it these days because I don’t want to have to buy a second house just to accommodate the village. There’s just something about the yellow lights radiating from all the windows and all the smiling people bustling around town that projects a warmth…even though it’s the Snow Village.

Stay tuned for pictures!

The Cool Aunt Makes Cookies with the Kids

December 22, 2008 / Katie L. Carroll

One of the blessings I have been able to count on this holiday season is that my nine-year-old nephew still thinks hanging out with his old aunt is fun. We have movie nights, we cook together, we talk books. It’s all good, but I know it won’t last. He’ll be a teenager soon (too soon!), and teenagers don’t think their aunts—even not-so-old ones—are cool.

We recently got together at my sister’s house to make Christmas cookies. Surprisingly, my three-year-old niece and two-year-old nephew abandoned their Christmas video to come help us.

My little nephew got a bit anxious as we were cooking and decorating the cookies. A gingerbread woman and a gingerbread man were the only raw cookies left on the table. While I helped my niece with the sprinkles and my sister helped my older nephew with the frosting, my little nephew helped himself to the gingerbread lady.

He boldly proclaimed, “I’m gonna lick the lady!”

Now, my little nephew speaks very clearly, and my sister and I both heard him and understood him. At any given time in my sister’s house, one of the kids is bound to be making some noise. Usually it’s quiet singing or talking to no one in particular, but this time my little nephew was actually making an announcement. My sister and I made the mistake of not taking his announcement seriously. So, sure enough, he licked the gingerbread lady.

Then he said, “I’m gonna lick the man!”

Before my sister or I could stop him, he leaned over the table and licked the gingerbread man. Well, there’s no sense in wasting licked cookies, so we cooked them up and wrote his name on them with edible gel.

Here’s a few of our creations: