the boardwalk

This is the Jersey Shore as I knew it. A far cry from the MTV reality show.

It's where my brothers, cousins and I spent all summer building sandcastles, chasing seagulls, and riding waves on our boogie boards. 

It's where we had to wash every last grain of sand off our bodies before we could set foot in my grandmother's beach house. 

And it's where—if we were very well behaved all week—we'd be rewarded with a night at The Boardwalk. 



Picture all the magnificence of a state fair. Picture a giant pier looming over the dark Atlantic on a warm summer night. Then imagine the two of these things together and you have the Seaside Heights Boardwalk, home of my childhood dreams. 

It's a place where your teeth feel fuzzy from pink cotton candy, and the carousel twirls like a life-size music box, and the lights live incandescent in your memory until well into adulthood.

Seaside Heights Boardwalk, 2008. Photos by my brother, Trey Pasquariello

Dawn, my favorite carousel horse since 1984.

photo credit: BrickPatch

Last week, I saw the above image on the news. The Boardwalk was another victim of Hurricane Sandy. 

So grateful that my relatives in the Jersey/New York area weren't harmed, but this does make my heart ache.

More photos of the hurricane recovery efforts in Seaside Heights and beyond are here.

pride parade

Here's a splash of color for your weekend. Standing on the sidelines of the Indy Pride Parade, I felt a bit like Sarah Jessica Parker in Family Stone, fighting back the urge to shout, "I LOVE THE GAYS!" I felt, well, proud... of people for being who they are; for not making excuses; for not being afraid. I just wanted to hug everyone. Now if that doesn't make me sound like a raging hippie, don't know what would.

would the electrician please report to the sausage stand

That's a direct quote heard over the loudspeaker at the Italian Street Festival a few weeks back.

While I applaud the efforts and enthusiasm of the Italian Heritage Society, the Italian neighborhood in Indy just doesn't compare with the Little Italy of Boston or New York. I can forgive subpar gravy. I can forgive mediocre meatballs. But I cannot forgive frozen cannoli. There's no excuse for that. Ever.

Regardless, it was a lovely evening. Perfect weather and a great chance to practice picture-taking. And, it inspired me to try making my own gravy from scratch one Sunday evening. Thirty tomatoes and three hours later... phew. It's not as easy as you might think, folks, trust me. I'd give you the recipe, but you know... then I'd have to knock you off.

fading summer

"Ah, when to the heart of man

Was it ever less than a treason
To go with the drift of things,
To yield with a grace to reason,
And bow and accept the end
Of a love or a season?"
-Robert Frost

Resisting change, I believe, is one of the most basic human instincts. And I'm completely guilty of it. Though I love the start of a new season, I can never wholeheartedly embrace the change. There remains a part of me that clings to the familiar. In this case, a part of me that is not ready to pack away the flip-flops, sunscreen and flowing skirts. A part of me that pouts when the sun sets before 8:00 pm.

But I'm learning that one way to welcome a new season is to bid a proper farewell to the passing one. Given this, I'm trying to appreciate the last days of summer — noting the nuances of the season, and all that it carries. Because just when I start to think, I'm ready for fall (like when my legs, arms and even knuckles are swollen with mosquito bites), I find some new little piece of summer to fall in love with.

Take, for instance, your typical chlorine-soaked suburban swimming pool. Have you ever looked at the bottom? Like really seen it? It is dizzying, but amazing. The sun cuts through like tiny laser beams, dancing and scattering along the bottom, in a strangely chaotic-but-fluid rhythm, breaking patterns as soon as they are formed. Or, the way the water feels when you swim? It envelops and transforms your body into a foreign, nearly weightless being. Swallowing you whole, the water feels like a strong wind blowing against your skin, but from every direction at the same moment. [model: my cousin Emma, age 4 1/2]

I'm grateful for these last days of the season. But I know that, as with all things, this too shall pass. My obsession with summer will end September 21. My obsession with fall will promptly take its place, on September 22, with a vengeance.

ode to athens

This past weekend I gained a renewed appreciation for the city of Athens. I went up for a day with 2 of my 3 long-loved but retired roomies (we missed you Meg), traipsed around our old stomping grounds and discovered some new ones.
Eat: Transmet (best damn food in the state of Georgia as far as I'm concerned), Little Italy (the best grease money can buy), Last Resort (good menu selection, if you can stomach the snooty staff), Calientitos (authentic mexican)
Shop: Pitaya (cute boutique), Junkman's Daughter's Brother (everything under the sun. really.)

Play: Genco (classic), The Loft (for old time's sake, back when it was the Annex), 283 Bar (fun but chill, slightly "older" crowd. by Athens standards, that means over 19.)

Though we had a great time, I stumbled upon a realization that led to a few other realizations. Number 1): my college days are over. Subsequent realizations: 2) I am either really slow or 3) I have been living in denial. Even though I've been back to Athens a handful of times, it has always been on football weekends when a lot of other friends are around. To be back there this weekend, it felt a bit like a ghost town. And I was a the ghost.
But I'll end on a light note. Later on Sunday, back in Atlanta my friend Dana sent me an old email that she found. I had written it to my roommates when we graduated and left Athens 2 years, 3 months and 1 week ago:

On the way home, i tried to take 120 instead of 85, only to run into a blocked road and a detour. i started to get really pissed off because i didn't know where i was going, but then i just started to laugh. i know its corny, but i couldn't help comparing it to life right now... things don't always go the way you plan... sometimes you have a detour or roadblock along the way... none of us really know where we'll be 6 months, or 6 years from now... but ultimately, you wind up exactly where you're supposed to be. Four years ago, I drove down the same road in the dark, only It was the early morning dark, and my dad was driving me to athens with all my stuff packed in the trunk. I had no idea what to expect from UGA and had no friends there. now four years later, here i am driving home in the dark, already missing my three best friends, with all my shit packed EVERYWHERE, but this time I'm in the drivers seat. As confusing as it is to not know where we're headed, it's also thrilling at times. i sit here typing this in my room — with quite literally, pieces of my life scattered around — and as sad as i am, i have a gut feeling that, cliche as it is, although this is the end of an era, it is the start of a new one.
I'm extremely lucky to still have the amazing friends I met there. And even luckier that they live close by. And really, maybe the luckiest part of all is that I don't have to feel like I'm "getting old" on my own.

on the 12th day of nothing...

I readily admit, I have been remiss in my blog-writing. In an effort to make up for lost time, here are 12 things I am grateful for — one item for each day I've missed.

1) A good haircut: I finally got much-needed haircut. I went to a friend of a friend, who works out of her amazing studio. If anyone needs a stylist, I would recommend her: Tammi Ferrell, #404.771.7660
2) The shore: I was lucky enough to spend a few days up at the Jersey shore with my aunts, uncles, cousins and Ryan (who drove down from Boston). They were renting an amazing ocean front house, with an amazing view, and the weather was perfect. I spent just about every summer of my childhood at the Jersey shore. I hadn't been in years though, and it was so nice to be there again.
3) Luke Mclean Mattocks: My youngest cousin, who just turned 1. The last time I saw him was Christmas... needless to say he has grown a lot. He crawls around a lot but doesn't walk yet, is perfectly content to play with his toys, likes to cuddle, and is about the happiest little boy I've ever seen.
4) Philly: On my way home from Jersey, I had to fly out of Philadelphia. Ryan was taking me to the airport but we had a few hours to kill, and decided to do a speed tour through the city of brotherly love. We made a quick loop through downtown (in the rain), then parked and looked at the liberty bell through a very thick window and scarfed a cheesesteak before heading out.
5) National Geographic Adventure magazine: Recently fell in love with this magazine. I've added it to my list of [wildly optimistic] aspirations to become one of their staff writers.
6) Cheap cable: After months of damning the man, I broke down and signed up for cable. The good news is while I'm paying for basic cable ($18/month for about 20 channels), they accidentally hooked me up with full cable (60 channels). I win.
7) Michael Phelps: The man is a golden god. I didn't think he was anything special before, but since I've been glued to the Olympics, I can't help but think he is incredibly cute. Sorry Ry.8) Amazon.com and Barnes & Noble: I bought McMurtry's "Terms of Endearment" for one penny. And found a hardcover Paul Auster book for $4.98. How amazing is that? (I love a bargain.)
9) NPR: My new morning companion. It's interesting and educational. Not always as entertaining as Q100, but also not nearly as depressing as the local news.

10) Two Urban Licks: A fantastic dining experience, both for the food and the company.

11) D. Lo's safe return: One of my best friends, Danna, was frolicking through Europe for the past month or so. I'm glad she had fun, but for my own selfish reasons, I'm very glad to have her back.

12) The Classic City: Even though I have been out of college for two years, there is a part of me that aches to go back to Athens around this time of year. When the humidity starts to relent, just the slightest bit, and everyone starts talking about football season again, it only seems natural to return to the classic city. Which is why my former roomies [featured below] and I are making a road trip up there next Saturday. Yes, it is only one day. But what a glorious day it will be.

finish line fireworks

For the past five months, I've been training to run the annual Atlanta 10K, the Peachtree Road Race. I worked my way from 2 miles to 5.5 miles... and then two weeks ago developed an annoying pain in my right foot. After talking with some people and visiting my chiropractor, signs pointed to Plantar Fasciitis, the inflammation of the muscle that runs from the toes back through the heel. So I stopped running for a while, iced it and stretched a ton.
The morning of July 4th, race day, I was feeling pretty good. After an early breakfast of banana pancakes that my Dad whipped up, I met Ryan and his family to carpool downtown. We started out running with my friend Becca, who by some stroke of luck found us among the masses. What started out as a dull ache in my heel in Buckhead was a throbbing pain in my Achilles tendon by midtown. We stopped to walk for a minute, started running, and had to stop again. I wanted to cry.

Then right before Spring Street, I found my Dad's friend, 80+ year-old "Papa Bill," who has watched the Peachtree for the past 25 years. He was decked out in American flags, and as I left him he yelled through his megaphone, "Go, Devon, go!" So I did. The last 2 miles were a struggle, with a shooting pain consuming my right leg every few minutes, but I was hell-bent on running the remainder. We finished in 70 minutes — longer than I would have liked it to take, but under the circumstances, I was OK with that.
I'm exceedingly grateful for all the support and words of encouragement from my family, coworkers, friends and Ryan — who stuck with me, even though he could have run the course twice in the time it took us! THANKS EVERYBODY :)