NJTP

As I crossed the Pulaski Skyway bridge this morning and came down the slight decline toward where the road splits into 1/9 local and express, I saw a vast sea of tail lights washed across all 6 lanes and realized the cars in front of me were quickly locking up their brakes.

This rarely happens - usually, it's just one side of the split that is seized up and when that happens, 9 times out of 10 it's on the side I don't travel. So when I saw what was ahead of me this morning, I knew I was screwed.

I sat in a dead standstill for a good 40 minutes until my anxiety got the best of me and I went on autopilot, meaning I directed my car to the berm and drove as far forward as I could. When I could go no farther, I piloted my GTI (with its ridiculous low profile tires) across the medium curb and muttered a prayer that I wouldn't have a blow out.

Once on the other side, I crept along at a snail's pace toward the Wilson Street/Newark exit, my GPS on and ready to navigate me through the streets of Newark to an exit farther south on the TP. Finally, 75 minutes after leaving my house, I entered the TP at exit 13a.

That's when I saw the accident. See the pic above? Well, pin a car by its driver's sides to the bed of that rig and add another few in a pile up behind it. Then, imagine the traffic backed up from Exit 13 to Exit 9 and you may understand the severity of the accident.

It was gruesome. I'm still sick to my stomach and my head hurts: I burst into tears upon first glance, knowing there is no way the driver survived and if by grace he or she did, I can't imagine in what condition.

Two nights ago, one of my favorite people called to tell me that the guy she had been seeing had been killed in a car accident - 20 minutes after dropping her off at her dorm room. Where did the accident take place? Yep, Route 1/9, near the TP, in Elizabeth.

So, What's La Pointe of It All? Well, it's this: NJ has some of the most dangerous roads in the country and frankly, some of the most anxious drivers. Commuting is a game of Russian roulette and I'm tired of feeling a barrel pressed to my head for two hours a day, five days a week, ten months a year. It's just asking for trouble.

Blog Like No One Is Reading...

... that is until your MIL asks you for the URL.

A few weeks ago, my online BFF, Amanda, wrote a post about blogging like no one is reading. Although Amanda and I have never met in person (yes, I know - that sounds weird and squirrely but it's totally normal for people in online communities to meet online and become friends: do you think connecting online is solely reserved for the folks looking for love on eHarmony?), we have established a nice little textual friendship and I adore her - she's the younger and way cuter, way cooler blonde version of myself. You know, the one my mother has been bemoaning all the years of my life with her "somewhere out there, there is a little blond haired child who belongs to me" statement?

Anyway, I totally agree with Amanda's philosophy on blogging and I try to do the same myself; I know that not everything I write in this blog is going to please everyone and I recognize that some of my posts are a tiny, tiny bit edgy and express opinions some people think but are afraid to say. Notice I used the adjective tiny twice; as a blogger, I am more reserved that many of my blogging role models. I'm not proud of this and actually, I'm jealous of their forthrightness. Whereas I strive for transparency and honest expression, I'm aware of my audience and therefore I don't always "say what [I] need to say" but I'm working up to it.

Which brings me to today's dilemma: at my rain soaked wedding reception Saturday afternoon, my dear friend Peggy (whom I consider my friend even though technically, she's one of my mom's best friends) mentioned my blog to my MIL. Peggy is one of my regular readers and the two of us share a bond that is nothing short of kismet. My MIL is a lovely, lovely woman and I admire her; she is strong, independent, smart, and computer/Internet savvy, in addition to being a fantastic mother and mother in law.

But I don't want to give her my blog's URL.

Is that shitty of me? I can't quite explain why I don't want to give it to her; it's hard to put the reason into words so let me just say that I think some relationships work best when a bit is left to the imagination.

I am an odd bird. That's not a surprise to anyone, I'm sure, but what may come as a surprise is the difference between what outsiders label "quirks" and what I know are my "oddities". The majority of my family, friends and associates would never dream that I am reclusive by nature, almost reticent. I adore being alone and have found ways to be just that, even when surrounded by others. Matty and I enjoy our insular moments just as much as, and perhaps more than, our social ones.

I am self revealing when it comes to 70% of my life but that remaining 30% is highly guarded and is what, to me, is truly valuable. Despite my myriad of friendships, there are only 6 other residents of All Ali, All the Time Town (or Alitown as it's more commonly known) and for 5 of them, it's not their primary residence, unlike poor Matty who was practically dragged across the border and now has to live here with me full time.

Another small, small number (probably 10 people) live in the border regions of Alitown and visit when need arises, which is often, followed by a much larger group who live on the outskirts of town and get the benefits of visiting every now and again and who are usually quite happy to leave and return to the safety of the suburbs.

My MIL doesn't live in Alitown, on its border, or even in its suburbs; she lives in her own beautiful town in another part of the region and therefore our visits require advance notice and planning, which afford both of us the luxury of tidying up and taking out the garbage before the other arrives at the front door.

Because Alitown is a city and parking is a bitch, instead of adding stress to her life, we make the journey to visit her at her peaceful spot on the lake where we can all enjoy the quiet and the view.

So, what's La Pointe Of It All? It's this: I would rather visit her than have her come here. We enjoy the trip to the lake and she enjoys the visits; there's no need for her to come to Alitown and for now, I think that is best.

This One's For Ashley

I'm so excited and disturbed at the same time: when I put the words "hinged ramp" into the search box of Flickr, this pic popped right up and it's just what I was looking for; it's the perfect pic for today's post topic on the status of Angelica P's custom built ramp!

(Here's where I feel I should make an assertion, kinda along the lines of "brought to you by Jello Pudding Snacks" except this one is "today's post is brought to you at the request of the lovely Ashley, a die hard fan of Miss Angelica Pinkerton, Kitten Extraordinaire ".)

So yeah - when Matt and I first started talking about ramping up our feline friend's mobility and access, I thought the ramp would be a single 11 foot 2x4 that we could prop in the corner when not in use (we have ridiculously high ceilings and when I say ridiculously high, I mean I think they are, like, 25 feet high, but in actuality it's probably more like 14).

Simple enough, right? Go to store. Buy piece of wood. Nail 3 inch pieces of wood to big piece of wood to act as footholds. Lean piece of wood up against door. Viola - equal opportunity access.

Well, I forgot that Matt's mind doesn't work that way. Instead, his mind went to some foreign place I've never visited full of ideas and concepts I've never encountered, (I envision this place similar to the 24 hour study section of my college library; who were those people in there on a Saturday night at 1 am, anyway?). When his mind returned, my husband started talking about a hinge.

Don't get me wrong - I'm not a dummy but a hinge? Is that necessary? I didn't think so but according to Matt, it is essential to the construction because "a hinge would allow us to fold the ramp in half so it would take up less corner space".

Um yea, because we currently use so much of that corner space?

At the time I just smiled and shook my head, pretending to think it was a fab idea when actually, my mind was reeling. Seriously, A HINGE? I mean, I'm not an engineer but wouldn't a hinge require some kind of support mechanism to keep the ramp from snapping shut and - GASP - pinching little Pinkerpins in place! Good lord, if that happened, I would come unhinged!! Seriously -if that happened, you would have to come visit me at the bench on the lawn of the funny farm where I would be spending the rest of my years in a catatonic state (make sure to bring me a fresh pair of soft, white slippers and some Aqua Life gummies - I'll probably be faking the catatonic state and will need some creature comforts).

What's wrong with a simple board? In trying to engineer the perfect ramp could Matty possibly be setting us up for an ultimate disaster? I think this is a conversation I need to have with my husband tonight; each time I glance up at this picture, a bolt of pain surges through my soul and I can hear Pinks cry.

So, What's La Pointe of It All? For me it's this: just keep it simple. Don't try and get fancy; kittens don't need hinges to know you love them.

Office Cake or Office Space?

When I first got this year's teaching schedule, I was thrilled to discover that I am not teaching a 1st period class. I thought it would be great for a few reasons, such as if I hit traffic on the Pulaski Skyway or needed to make photocopies, etc. I envisioned myself beginning my day calm, cool, and collected: stopping off at Starbucks for a grande nonfat Caramel Machiatto, spooning yogurt while blogging, making a second cup of coffee in my classroom Keurig, grading papers in the soft lamplight - hell, it was going to be great.

That was before I lost my classroom refrigerator.

Let me explain: last year, my friend Rachel was hired in our department (woo hoo!) and I became her mentor. She had a small dorm sized fridge that she wanted to put in her classroom but was worried that she would get in trouble for housing a major appliance. Because that is one fear I don't share (my classroom already illegally hosts a lamp and a space heater), I told her to put it in mine instead; tenure has its privileges.

That fridge was a godsend. For an entire school year, Strachan and I filled it with organic milk, organic hazelnut creamer, yogurts, sandwiches, etc. and opened it 10 times a day. We made coffee and tea at ease; all I had to do was whirl around in my desk chair, pop a pod in the Keurig, and 30 seconds later I was adding a cool splash of milk and cream! I NEVER left my classroom last year - ever. There was no need to; instead, I just sat at my desk, worked, and reached in my little (um, Rachel's little) fridge when I needed something.

Well, at the start of this school year, Rachel called to tell me that her grandmother was going into a nursing home and she needed the fridge for her grandmother's room. I thought about running out and snagging another one the first day but I figured I had plenty of time and would just use the office fridge until I got one of my own.

BIG MISTAKE.

Now instead of coming straight to my room at 7:25 and staying and working at my desk until my second period class begins at 8:12, I come to my classroom to drop off my stuff and head to the office to get my milk and cream.

Once I step foot in the office, 25 minutes is guaranteed to pass in the blink of an eye and 250 calories (minimum) is guaranteed to part my lips. There's always someone in there to talk to and it never fails that there is always something in there to eat - today I gossiped with Rachel, Kristyna, and Terry and I forked down at least 1000 calories with of cheesecake AND chocolate cake!!

Seriously - who am I these days? Somethings gotta give and I think it's going to be in the form of about $100 today at Target. I can't live like this. I'm going to end up fat and fired. I need a refrigerator.

So, what's La Pointe of It All? For this gal, isolation leads to productivity, so I'm going back in to my hole for the next 9 months. Sorry gang - see you in June!

Anything for Angelica

Miss Angelica Pinkerton, I presume?

Angelica Pinkerton, feline first class explorer, is obsessed with climbing the screen door to hang out on the ledge above. I find this antic wildly amusing; Matt finds it dangerously destructive. Why? Well, since Pinks is a creature of habit, she climbs the same section of screen each time and since most of my nail trimming attempts have failed, she's clawed a rather large section of the screen so often that it is now threadbare and Matty is afraid she's going to put her leg through it and hang herself.

Where in the room is little A. Pinkerton?

This thought scares me to death so I proposed the following ideas to Matt:

• I can quit my job and stay home with Angelica P. full time, like a good mother, to make sure she does not injure herself.
• Take a look at the above pic. See the wall space between the door and the window? We can build a series of shelves to act as stepping stones. Then, I'll teach her to use the shelves as a ladder to her destination.
• We can replace the screen and continue to do so each time a hole begins to form that we deem dangerous to her safety.
• We can buy her a little mini kitty jet pack that I'll strap on to her each morning before work.

Needless to say, Matt vetoed #1 immediately (which shows that he cares more about money than Pinkerpins safety and my emotional stability). He agreed to replace the screen but he made it clear that he'll only do it once. Then he mentioned something about plexiglass and I stopped listening. #4 made him look at me and roll his eyes. Then, I think he stopped listening.

So, #2 became our option of choice, until we looked at the logistics and determined that she might not be able to jump around a corner from the top shelf to the ledge. That's when Matt came up with the idea of building a ramp - 4 inches wide and, um, 11 feet long - that we can prop up against the door to give her safe, easy access to her favorite sunny space. He's at Home Depot buying the wood this minute, as I sit here typing. Anything for Angelica Pinkerton, the world's most coddled cat.

So, What's La Pointe of It All? Well, it's this - if we're willing to go to this extreme for our kitten extraordinaire, can you imagine what we'll do for the future Littlest La Pointe? And considering we only plan to have one child (Matty is an only child and he is, in my opinion, a perfect human being, whereas I have a sibling and I'm a complete mess), will our efforts to keep that child happy and healthy be exponentially more extreme?

I can't wait to find out. Unless, of course, the kid is ugly. In that case, I already have people lined up to take it.

To Do List

I've been living in a cloud of jet lag, back to school, and general blues since we returned from Majorca. There is so much I need to catch up on that I've been incapable of tackling because of the fog of indifference that settled on me the moment I stepped off the plane.

I haven't walked for fitness since I left for Scotland (hiking doesn't count) and I've been having difficulty finding time to step out the door and go. I can't take morning walks during the week because I need to be out of the house by 6:15 and I've been getting home at odd times because of tutoring and running errands, so I haven't been walking after school. Yesterday, I got home at 3:45 (I don't know the last time I've walked through my front door before 5 during the work week - it's been YEARS) so I slid on my FiveFingers and took a few steps out from underneath the fog.

It was nice to be out in the world walking my route - the view of NYC from the Heights was surprisingly clear yesterday - but the feel and affect wasn't the same as what I experience on my summer morning walks and I figured out why.

When I walk in the summertime, my entire day lies ahead of me like a tree lined country lane; while walking, I have plenty of time to organize my thoughts, plan my attack, and most importantly, enjoy being in the moment. I can do those things because I know I have the time whereas yesterday, my to do list kept nagging me to stop burning daylight and hurry up and get home. The laundry pile beckoned, the unwritten thank you notes judged , and Angelica Pinkerton's water fountain sputtered, "change me".

I need to rummage around in my head, sift through all of the piles that have accumulated there over the past few weeks, and put order to this chaos or I will lose the plot. Then, I need to go from room to room of the apartment and do the same, and on the double.

I've dropped the reigns - my organization and control of my life have deteriorated; when I flung open my closet door this morning, I noticed the rosette atop one of my wedding shoes sprouting out from underneath a pile of luggage, clothing, shoes, and laundry. I'm officially a mess.

Is nothing sacred enough for me to warrant it special? Is Matt's Armani suit crumpled up in a ball in the corner of his closet? I think you know the answer to that.

So, what's La Pointe of It All? Well, it's this - my life isn't going to clean itself up so it's time to 'red up my room.

Heartbroken

To cut a heart apart and run away (365/118)
Originally uploaded by JenniPenni

I just can't stop thinking about Annie Le and her fiance, John; my heart breaks for him and I can't help but feel guilty that my wedding day was, hands down, the most brilliant day of my life and his wedding day was, tragically, the worst day of his.

As a recent bride, I can attest to the kinship that exists amongst brides- to - be. Go on Weddingbee.com or any other bridal chat board and you'll see what I am referring to.

Unlike tuning in to a reality television show, where it appears that women are making more "frenemies" than friends these days, most of the bridal chat boards that I visited during the months I spent planning my wedding are brimming with supportive peers eager to offer a suggestion or an ear - whichever is needed. I was overwhelmed by the support these bridal boards offered virtual unknowns. Brides bond with other brides in a way that I have never encountered amongst women which is why, I suppose, Annie Le's tragic death resonates with me.

To know that someone was planning for the same moment of joy that I just experienced and will never achieve it, makes me wonder exactly what is La Pointe of It All?

Taken

Missing Persons Posters
Originally uploaded by Mike Caine

Did you know that 2300 people go missing each day in the United States alone?

I know -it's difficult to comprehend abstract statistics so think of it this way: that's more people than the entire population of my hometown.

Before I went to bed last night, a breaking news story flashed across the television screen, announcing that a body had been found entombed in a basement wall of a Yale University Medical Center lab, which is where bride-to-be Annie Le was last seen.

My heart breaks for her fiance and family, as yesterday was to have been her wedding day. Now, instead of her fiance watching her walk down the aisle veiled in white lace, the next time he sees her, she may be lying in a casket draped in a funeral shroud.

When I went on Flickr to look for a pic to use in this post, I was overwhelmed by the number of missing posters that pop up if you type in the phrase "missing person".

There was the smiling face of a young girl from the Belfast area, who's been missing for over five years now; this summer marks her 30th birthday.

Another photo caused me to do a double take because the guy in the picture bears a striking resemblance to my old boyfriend Jarrod; what's even creepier is that like Jarrod, this kid was also an aspiring actor in NYC.

2300 people. That number includes infants, toddlers, children, teenagers, young adults, adults, parents, and grandparents. It includes brides, students, actors, teachers, carpenters, athletes, mechanics, lawyers, and cooks.

We only hear about a fraction of these cases - like Annie Le, Natalie Halloway, Madeline McCann, and Patrick McDermott - but there are so many others we'll never hear about.

The number of missing persons has increased over 400% since the 1980s - why is that? Is it because more people are reported missing or is it because our society fosters perverse behaviors and therefore the number of freaks and sickos out there is proportionally increasing?

I'm not sure if I want to know the answer to that one.

In the past couple of years, we've also heard remarkable tales of the missing who have returned to their loved ones after years of absence. Shawn Hornbeck, Ben Ownby, and most recently, Jaycee Dugard, all returned to their families after much hope was lost; I hope each can go on and still find beauty in life after such a horrid ordeal.

So, what's La Pointe of It All? Honestly, I don't know. I just couldn't let today go by without thinking about these missing persons so I guess my parting words to you are this: take a moment and send good thoughts out into the world in hopes that some of these missing peoples will come home.

Why I Write

Why I Write
Originally uploaded by The Forest Archives

Today my students did a writing exercise entitled "Why I Read", modeled on Terry Tempest William's essay, "Why I Write". I did the exercise along with them and here is what I wrote:

I read because it puts me in control, if only for a while. I read because I'll never go to India and pluck rubies from riverbeds. I read because I miss my far flung friends and it fills the time in between visits. I read because someone once told me it would make me smarter. I read because I once beat Debbie Miller in a summer reading contest. I read because she went on to become valedictorian and I went on to fail math - three times. I read because I want to know if Sid really killed Nancy or if she flung herself on to the edge of his blade in an act of suicide. I read because I don't feel at home in this country and am trying to. I read because I spent a decade of Friday nights alone. I read because I can't remember to mail back my Netflix and can't stomach the thought of watching Junebug again. I read because it fills the house with the silence my husband deserves. I read because my parents read and I want them to be proud of me. I read because it gives me something to think about other than myself. I read because it keeps me from obsessing over the inevitable deaths of my loved ones. I read because I am a bad aunt who wants to be a better one. I read because I write and want to write more and better. I read because it gives me something that is mine and not yours. I read because it's easier than talking. I read because it's cheaper than shopping for shoes and handbags. I read because it keeps people from thinking I'm a loser when I'm out on my own. I read because I don't know how to stop.

Wedding Blues

Zima Blue Trees
Originally uploaded by birdtoes

My friend Abbie and I had some really great talks during the walks we took in the days leading up to my wedding. I adore her - she is by far one of the classiest, most charming and most special people in my life (she just absolutely radiates goodness) - and I look forward to the time we spend walking together each summer because it engenders such meaningful discussions.

Abbie was married last September and her celebration was similar to ours: she invited everyone to spend a lovely fall weekend at a lovely hotel by the Lake of Mentieth in the Trossachs (the area east of Loch Lomond). It was at her wedding weekend that I met Cliff and Yolandie and Abbie's best friend Lynsey; by the end of that long weekend, I had formed a fast and firm friendship with the three and all were invited to my wedding. Unfortunately, our date coincided with the time that Lynsey was to be away on a business trip to China, so she was unable to make it but Cliff and Yolandie not only attended the wedding, Yolandie spent the entire week leading up to the day with us girls.

I remember how bittersweet it was to wave goodbye to Abbie and Jamie the morning after their wedding as they climbed into her little sports car and drove off to a Labor conference in Manchester (once again, bad timing) and to then turn to Karen, Heather, and my three new friends to say goodbye. Rarely does one find oneself part of such an authentic, communal bunch; I had gotten so used to spending every waking minute as a part of the group that I didn't know how I was going to function on my own. Who would ask me if I wanted a cup of tea? Who would I open a bottle of wine and watch "Britain's Greatest Love Stories" with?

I admit that for a few weeks after Abbie's wedding, I went through a bit of a blue period and on one of our walks this year, she told me that she did, too. We talked about the difficulty of spending months encapsulated by the wedding aura, then adding long, languid days surrounded by friends and loved ones, only to have it all come to an abrupt halt the morning after the vows.

So much attention is giving to wedding planning, the execution of the wedding itself, and the honeymoon, that one fails to think about how life will change when those moments are in the past and one is back living in the land of everyday existence.

There is, Abbie and I agree, a period of time a girl experiences once she is no longer a bride that is akin to mourning. Although each bride's loss varies - some grieve for the excitement of planning, others for the magic of the limelight, etc.

Others, like the two of us, long for the lost days of camaraderie to return and fill the emotional emptiness with the laughter of friends.

What's La Pointe of It All? My advice to brides - to - be is this: as part of your wedding planning, plan a weekend - perhaps 6 to 8 weeks after your wedding - to host a reunion of friends. It will help get you through the decrescendo.

Sleepless in Hoboken

Ugh, I should've known better.

What was I thinking, that I could travel back from Mallorca to Madrid to Newark over a 24 hour time span, not sleep on the plane, and then find myself fresh as a daisy?

After not getting to sit next to my husband on the way home from our one and only HONEYMOON?

After coming home and unpacking and doing laundry and getting my school stuff sorted?

After having severe anxiety and tinges of depression over starting back to work, having just spent the past two months being my own boss?

After eating absolute junk on the plane and then not eating anything upon arrival home due to lack of hunger from fatigue?

After getting all emotional and whiny and bitchy and then breaking into uncontrollable sobs while on the phone with one of my Bffs over something that neither one of us has any control over?

After not taking allergy medicine after having an allergic reaction to the kitty because I have been away from her for so long?

After not taking even a half of a Tylenol PM or any other sleeping aid or even drinking a glass of wine before bed to try and lull me to sleep?

Was I actually thinking I would get to sleep on my own and wake up fresh as a morning spring, ready to start a new year?

Or am I a masochist who was secretly looking forward to having a miserable combination of jet lag and insomnia on the eve of my first day back to work?

What's La Pointe of It All? Simple - this is going to be a long, long day.

A Full Service of Friendship

My best friend, Strachan, likes to joke with me about the number of best friends I have acquired over the course of my 36 years.

I admit - I have a lot of best friends but that label - "best" - isn't just for show or lack of a better term. While some choose to associate the word "best" with the connotation "most important", I prefer to use it denotatively, as in "of the highest quality, excellence, or standing: the best work; the best students"; i.e. , the best friends.

When my mother decides an occasion is worthy of use of her "best" china, she sets the dining room table by carefully choosing which pieces of the cherished service for twelve will best suit her needs. Her decisions do not reflect which pieces of her Noritake pattern are more special or more important than the other pieces; she simply puts out the ones she needs - even if a few are slightly chipped or flawed.

Last week, many "pieces" of my "best" service made the journey to Skye for my wedding. Considering the trip to Skye is a minimum 5 hour journey from the Glasgow airport, a lot of effort was required in planning and executing their appearances. Although the guest list didn't represent the complete "service" of my friends, it came pretty damn close and I can honestly say that those who were there are absolutely considered part of my "best" and could not have been replaced.

Like my mother, who would rather put out a piece of china with a slight chip in it than to exchange, say, an imperfect Noritake gravy boat for a Royal Dalton version, I feel that way about my friends; even though I find beauty in many other "patterns", my "best" and the "others" are not interchangeable (and I'm not implying that my friends are chipped or flawed, either - seriously, we all know the one in the veil is the cracked one of this group!) When I refer to several people as being one of my "best" friends or when I call a group of individuals my "best" friends, it's akin to how my mom refers to the pieces of her specific Noritake pattern (and there must be over 100 different pieces), as her "best" china. The importance it signifies is categorical and there is room in that category for many.

I'm fortunate that I was able to set my wedding table with so many of my "best" service pieces, including my mom and dad, Matt's mom and uncle, my godparents/Scottish mum and dad, and many of my best friends: Abbie and her husband Jamie, Karen, Laura, Heather, Sophia and Bobby and their two girls, Kendall and Avery, Celine, Liza, Yolandie and her husband Cliff, and James.

In addition, many of my friends from Skye, such as Ann and Victoria, and John and Effie Ann, cleared their schedules to be there for the festivities and our good friends Brian and Janet flew over from Northern Ireland, missing their grand daughter's 3rd birthday, to be there for our day. Karen flew from Abu Dhabi, many flew from Newark, still others made their way up from London, and my friend James drove almost 4 hours from his RAF base. Karen's parents, who operate a busy dairy farm outside of Glasgow and with whom I've spent great weekends on that farm, even caught the train to Mallaig on Friday and came up for a three day break, all in honor of my wedding. I'm sure you're getting the picture; these people truly are my best friends - all of them.

Like each piece of china in my mom's "best" service, each person in my group of best friends has his or her own purpose and function; each is there for a reason and not one is expendable. Over the years, my mom has sought out replacement pieces when the originals have broken and she's retired a few pieces when those pieces no longer suited her purpose (in theory, the egg cup is a great idea, but in actuality, Butch would rather have his egg fried or scrambled, while Ann would rather whip it into an egg bake). In terms of friendship, over the years I've considered a lot of people to be "best" friends of mine and yes, I am no longer in constant contact with many of those people but that's just because, like in the case of the egg cup, needs changed.

But although that friendship is no longer in regular rotation, it is still part of the service. Like the egg cups, which are still displayed in a place of honor in one of my mom's corner cupboard showcases, my former friendships are special to me. When my mother comes across a retired piece during her quarterly cabinet cleanings, I'm sure she feels as though she has run into an old friend and takes a moment to reminisce about the good ole times. I bet there is even a moment she envisions hosting a Sunday brunch and serving hard boiled eggs perched precariously atop the no longer in service egg cups, in order to bring them back into the fold.

That's how I feel when I run into an old friend. And like my mom, who by the time the dusting is finished and the cupboard door is closed has already moved on to a day dream in which all of the place settings are piled high with her latest breakfast casserole recipe*, I, too, am at a point where I realize that friends who have not managed to stay seated around the table are no longer there for a reason so instead of trying to resurrect the past (which does, in my opinion, little for one's future), I prefer to retire them to a place in my mind's eye where I can come across them during special moments of reflection.

My mom's Noritake is her "best china" for a reason - because she loves each piece equally and that includes the ones she no longer uses. She'll never abandon it and she'll never harbor ill feelings toward the pieces that no longer suit her needs. She'll continue to love the chipped sugar bowl as much as she adores the large serving platter; she shows no favoritism in regard to individual pieces, it just so happens that some occasions call for just cake and coffee whereas other gatherings require the full service.

What's La Pointe of It All? I feel exactly the same way about my best friends and I'm glad they had the chance to meet one another and understand just how important they are to me as individuals and as a group. The pictures attached to this post show a few of the lovely moments we had during my wedding week, working together as individuals to be of service and more importantly, to complete a service.

* My mom's famous breakfast egg bake is a dish which has, despite protests from several family members over a few disappointing versions and over the frequency which it is served, managed to retain its position in her self published "best recipes" cookbook. Paula Dean would be proud.

Driving Me Crazy

Over the course of the past 3 weeks, I've spent about 30 hours driving.

When I envisioned my walking holiday, wedding week, and honeymoon, never did I think I would be behind the wheel driving on roads barely wider than my arse. The driving began with a torturous yet companionable 7.5 hour drive from Edinburgh to Skye, made possible by a torrential down pour and girl talk with Abbie, Yolandie, and Heather.

It continued the next day when the girls and I embarked on a 3 hour (round trip) schlep to a fantastic 5 star dinner at one of the world's most remote restaurants, the Three Chimneys. The food was to die for, the wine that Yolandie chose was the nectar of the Gods (at least the one glass I allowed myself was; not even wine made from the Fountain of Youth could convince this girl to drink and drive on any of Skye's single tract roads). And yes, it poured the entire way back to our cottage and no, there aren't any lights along the desolate roads to mark the way.

Two days after the wedding, my driving adventure boarded the Skye ferry in the form of a two car caravan: Matt and I, along with his mother and uncle in the first car, and the Vazac family following behind us in their car. We stopped at the spot marked with a statue in tribute to Bonnie Prince Charlie, near the Harry Potter Bridge, to take pics (and to take a break from being in the car) and we stopped again at the Green Welly Stop to say our goodbyes to the Vazacs as they headed toward Glasgow and we split toward Stirling.

When Matt and I arrived in Mallorca, we considered upgrading our car rental to an automatic so that he could take over the driving but the additional 200 Euros wasn't worth him taking the helm (he promises to learn to drive standard asap) so I once again found myself behind the wheel.

Today, we decided to take a scenic drive to Valldemossa, Deia, and Soller - three supposedly lovely, picturesque villages in the mountains of Mallorca. We headed out from our hotel in Puigpunyent and followed the road sign toward Valldemossa.

Holy cannoli. Stop for a minute and take a look at the pic that accompanies this post and you'll get an inkling of what the driving was like. The pic is of a GPS map showing the road down to the Port de Valldemossa (I found it on Flickr); I can't imagine what the roads we drove on today would look like in comparison but I guarantee they would be twice as windy!

It was INSANE! I drove in 1st gear for the first 35 minutes of the trip, I swear, because the road was so steep and twisty. We couldn't even stop in Deia because there was no visible parking and the thought of attempting to make a parking spot on a side street was enough to make me want to eat Xanax by the fistful (don't worry, I didn't but man, was my anxiety at a premium!).

But the best moment was when we entered Soller and tried to find the city centre only to end up driving down a set of train tracks in an attempt to flee what was, to us, a meaningless series of one way streets and potential mirror bashing alley ways!

Needless to say, we fled Soller before ever finding the centre. Luckily, right outside of the town limits was an amazing tunnel that cuts straight through the mountain and turns what would have been a 45 minute drive back to Palma into a 15 minute drive which we, of course, chose to do instead of winding our way back the way we came.

So, what's La Pointe of It All? If you ever want to go abroad and rent a car, especially for your wedding or honeymoon, please learn to drive a standard shift. Your mate will thank you and you'll thank God for sparing you from the wrath of a stressed out mate!

A Wedding of Friends

Wow - I'm married.

There's so much to say and unfortunately, I forgot to charge my laptop so there's not enough time to say it so for this first post, post wedding (hee hee), I just want to take a moment to thank all of the people that made it possible, including my Scottish mum (who was my wedding co-ordinator), my incredible photographer and dear friend Celine (if you need wedding photos in the NJ area, let me know - she's AMAZING, as evidenced above), my fantastic cake artist Fiona who worked ceaselessly to make my cake da bomb, my adorable hair stylist Ruth who is cute as a button and excellent at what she does, Mags at the Clan Donald who made the ceremony go off without a hitch, and Anita and David and the chef at Duisdale House who orchestrated the wedding dinner to end all.

But the biggest shout out goes to my friends and family who made the effort to come to Skye to take part in what was surely one of the best weeks of my life. I'll go in to detail later but I just want to address an often joked about fact: I have a group of the BEST friends that a girl could ever ask for in one lifetime.

Wedding are a great reason for people to get together and express how much the wedded couple means to them but when the wedding is on a far off, distant isle that is a 5 hour train ride from a 6 hour flight, it's a different story. That's why I'm honored that four continents were represented at my remote destination wedding: North America, Europe, Asia, and Africa.

But not only were the merry makers from far flung lands, they also represented all aspects of my life and that, my readers, is where I'll pick up tomorrow when I sit back down to blog - poolside, preferably!

So yep, I'm married. What's La Pointe of it All? Well, it's this - I'm a lucky girl; not only am I married to the perfect man for me, I am friends with the perfect friends for me and I adore them.