Monthly Archives: February 2011


This weekend was fabulous. Wind in your hair, shine in your shoes and a smile on your face fabulous.

Or, to be more correct, I suppose it was rain in my hair, red Converse sneakers, giant grin on my face, and the sun in my soul (even though it rained all weekend) fabulous.

Someone came to town, and boy howdy, do I wish he were able stay. There was cooking. There was kissing. There was giggling. And there was dancing. Lots and lots of dancing.

There was also, inexplicably, bowling.

Per the fabulous D, my mostly companion and partner in, not so much crime, but general what the fuck are they up to now?, please enjoy yet another tiny, beautiful movie, here.

My mom watched this movie yesterday. When she called to see how my weekend with Someone had gone, she casually mentioned watching D’s movie, and then informed me she had two comments regarding said movie. Comment one, was that Someone was very handsome, and quite a smooth bowler to boot (both true). Comment two was, “Hilary, you really are a terrible bowler.”

Truth again.

But I am even more terrible at being inside my own life at the moment. Because Someone is gone, and there is all this room now, in a bed too big, kitchen too hollow, chairs too empty, I am one and should be two, kind of way.

My friend E sometimes says, in moments of girl hysteria, that she is just too much for herself.

I am always too much for myself. Too much talking, too much laughing, too much singing, dancing, giggling and noise-making. Too much for anybody else to handle, so I’ll just take care of everything myself, thank you very much.

But now, I have found someone who can not only handle it, but who revels in it. Who also talks and laughs and sings and dances and giggles and makes a lot of noise. A lot of noise. It’s a little like living with a small tiger, actually. And despite the fact that I am often bursting at the seams of my life, it has been shockingly easy to make room for him in it. I always assumed that relationships require serious Tetris in order to work: you move here, I slide here, this job goes, this hobby stays, these words get to stay, these need to be silenced, wiggle, wiggle a little more, shake it really hard to test it, okay.

But this wasn’t Tetris. This wasn’t even hard. This is…it. It just is. I just know. And it wasn’t even a matter of making room, it was simply letting him fill up the place in my life that has been waiting for him all along.

So, yes, I am a terrible bowler. Though, I will have you know, not that it matters, not that you care, and not that it makes any sort of difference or adds to the dramatic value of this story in any way, that I did once get a strike during this particular bowling match. Ahem. I am also terrible at math, getting out of bed in a timely fashion, letting go of grudges and playing the guitar. I’m over it.

But I also love him terribly, which, for now, cancels out my being terrible at anything else, because all I need is this.

And that is just giant grin on my face fabulous.


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The pot and the kettle

“Ring ring!”
“Hello, Kettle speaking.”
“Hey, it’s just me, the Pot. I was just ringing to get your attention. For fun. I’m actually sitting right over here, next to the fruit bowl. Turn it, tuurrrnn it. There you go. Hey. What’s up?”

“Oh you know, nothing much. Just hanging out, heating a latte, on my stainless steel range, glancing in the general direction of the New York Times over there on the counter. Have you seen that story what’s happening to all those poor kettles in Brooklyn? So many cabinet-less kettles out there. It’s a systemic problem for black kettles, it seems. I feel bad. I wish I could do more.”
“Waitwaitwaitwaitwait. You feel badly for black kettles? You do know you’re black, right? Your mom was pure cast iron.”
“No, she was Teflon. I thought I told you about her that night, at the dinner party, during the polenta incident. Or was it before… Anyway. She was Teflon.”
“Honey, nothing that heavy is Teflon except Ronald Reagan. Just because she went off to the great Goodwill drop-off in the sky doesn’t mean you can deny.”
“There’s no denial happening here. I’m all stainless steel underneath this jacket. I just thought you knew that about me, that’s all.”
“Uh, nope. That is no jacket and you are no stainless steel. It’s cool, it’s cool. Just don’t forget where you came from, that’s all.”
“Is this becoming a racial issue? Because I don’t like your tone.”
“Uh, again, no. I’m just keeping it real. From one black piece of kitchenware to another, let’s not kid ourselves here.”
“I’m starting to steam, so I think it’s probably best if we go back to our separate burners and cool down.”
“Fine by me. Don’t let that ladle slap you on your way to the sink.”
“Oh I won’t. And it’s a spatula, asshole.”
“Oh, go fork yourself.”

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Only for you only

Guys, my coworker Nina and I are working on a little side project, and I would love for you all to know about it. All 100 or so of you – small test group!

VeryHilary has always been an outlet for writing, stories about my ridiculous adventures, musings on life and the occasional picture or two. But lately I have felt like it’s a little bit limiting, in terms of being a place for all of the things I love, am inspired by, doing, seeing, etc.

Enter Nina, my dear friend and co-worker, who is a brilliant designer and has an eye for all things awesome. Between her design skillz, my writing skillz, my photography abilities, and her well-curated sense of style, we think we can make a little place on the internet for… something. What that something is, we’re not exactly sure yet. It’s a work in progress.

But, I would love for you guys to be able to meander over there now – even though, may I say again, WORK VERY MUCH IN PROGRESS – and tell us what you think! Is is funny? Is it interesting? Is it helpful? Would you like to see more design? More cooking? More photos? More ideas?

Don’t judge. Just enjoy.


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Filed under Digressions