August 2012


How many things do you really, truly love?  Don’t count people…then I can’t compete.  I’m talking about things…places…landmarks.

I love the Totem Pole Playhouse.  For the past 15-ish years my parents and I have gone to Chambersburg, Pennsylvania and have, each and every year, gone to the Totem Pole Playhouse just up the road.  We go and we have an experience that is truly unique.  The productions at Totem Pole are some of the best local/regional theatre you will ever see.  Hidden in the middle of a forest the theatre means something so special to those who frequent it.  When you walk inside you feel like you’re a part of a club, even if you never actually speak to your fellow members.

There is not too much in Central Pennsylvania besides farms, motorcycles, and more farms.  I’m not dismissing those things, but what this area of PA has that makes it special and needs to keep it going is the community love that can only happen with a place like Totem Pole.

Please donate to the fund to save Totem Pole Playhouse.  You’ll be helping individuals, a community, a region, and hey, you’ll be giving me some future memories.

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Hello all and the like!

A very cool friend of a friend of mine has a very cool blog called The Travel Empire.  After reading my recent love letter to Paris post, Meg, the creator of the blog and travel maven asked me to shoot her some posts when I have them.  I’ll be taking a little domestic travel this weekend that I cannot wait to write about.  In the meantime, please visit her site and check out the post I just wrote about a Black Taxi Tour I took in Belfast

This is definitely a memory piece because I took this trip a good 10 years ago.  The amazing thing about travel is that you get to have experiences that may physically/literally only last for one hour, but stay in your mind forever.  This cab ride has always stayed with me because of…well…read the damn post!* 🙂

*And be sure to “like” The Travel Empire on Facebook to catch up on the travels of Megan and her contributors (holy shitballs, that’s me!!!) that take them all over the world.

Peace and travels,

Rachel

It is appropriate that I am a little tipsy on red wine while typing this…

…I miss Paris.  I miss it so much that my heart is bubbling with the tenderness of a rolled “R”.  When I go to Paris I feel full.  Sure, I may have just eaten half of my weight in cheese and filled the other half with muscles from Leon’s.  But that is not the kind of full that I mean.

There is a different oxegyn in Paris.  Anywhere else you will breath because your body tells you to.  In Paris breath exists so that we may enjoy life.  My breath in Paris pulls me forward…up the Champs Elyses and into a seat at Les Deux Magots.   Each corner bookstore is a new inhalation and there is sweet air.  Perhaps the air is sweet because of each patisserie on each street.  On my last trip to Paris each time I walked onto the Rue Cler in search of the freshest baguette this side of the Seine I was invegorated.  I don’t need the museums or the places you must go.  I just need Paris.  The streets are where you want to be and where you want to live because it’s where you can find the most Parisian air.  The streets walk themselves up and down and the curves of the Marais are as beautiful as a woman.  Imagine being a woman walking on those heavenly feminine curves.  Delicious!

Each time you step outside in Paris falling in love doesn’t even come close to how you feel.  Love is fleeting and flightly.  Paris stands as it is and will love you unconditionally as it becomes what you want it to be.

 

Where did you go?

Why did you forget about me, leaving me to wax the all alone poetic in the darkness of loneliness which forbids friendship?  Give a shit about me?  You didn’t even try.  I’ll say it’s your fault and I don’t care if I’m right because eventually I’ll get up before my ass splits from putting sitting in two chairs at once.

I’m sitting on a white sofa with a sore knee that I refuse to fix.  My birth control alarm is going off…won’t stop or even try to stop ringing and I know I should take my pill and I know I will because things always happen.  I just don’t feel like getting up right now.  Because I don’t feel like doing much of anything these days except for thinking about how I would have done things differently.  Scoff, laugh, and judge…stop, drop, and roll…all you want. 

Not living up to ones potential is incredibly time consuming, especially when I’m fully aware of what I should be doing.  When you do what you would rather be doing it’s effortless and time moves softly, like sheets and cotton and baby feet.  When you stop; resist; it’s like pushing through a room of honey walls.  I am exhausted from working through the mental torment of stopping when I should be running and thrusting backwards when I should be leaping forward.

Sitting sipping scotch never feels as good as pouring beer over your head, inhaling up each drop like it’s the last you’ll ever taste.

…the blog is back, bitches……………………..