The best I could come up with for pictures was loading everything onto Facebook... I'll post the link to each individual album for you. You don't need to set up a Facebook account to view; they are public albums. Enjoy!
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2038291&l=d5674&id=53100829
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2038125&l=14154&id=53100829
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2038121&l=33bb9&id=53100829
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2038117&l=2e03b&id=53100829
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2038115&l=be3b7&id=53100829
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2037546&l=e76d4&id=53100829
Don't mind the general debauchery and the rediculousness that some of these pictures are!
"Sometimes there's a moment where somebody takes out a camera and says, "We should capture this moment! We should take a picture!" And you get all excited, "Yeah, we should! Let's take a picture!" And then you look around, "Who could take the picture for us? There doesn't seem to be anybody around! We'll have to do it ourselves." And then there's the most awkward thing of all, where you have to look at all of your friends, and decide, "Who do we not care about enough to capture this memorable moment? Hey, Karen, you want to, uh, step out and take that? Yeah, don't worry, we'll Photoshop you in later." - Dane Cook
You know you love me,
XOXO
- Island Girl
21 October, 2008
Rock You Like A Hurricane
Now, onto the biggie. You know, that little blob on the radar that everyone thought was going to be a downgraded from tropical storm to rain. In the news in the past few days, did you happen to come across a little blurb about Omar? As in, Hurricane Omar? Yes, that’s right. Hurricane. That tropical storm decided to manifest itself into an official category three hurricane, and it headed right over the Virgin Islands.
(Clearly, there is no need for any of you to worry any longer, as the Omar has left, and I’m sitting here typing this.)
So my day Wednesday consisted of going into Red Hook to pick up a few things at the drugstore, grab an Iced Mocha from Lattes in Paradise, and check my mail. Things that would take a half hour if at home, but here took an entire afternoon to accomplish. I ran into Nick (my quarter-Armenian friend on island, and probably the entire Armenian population in St. Thomas; go figure) right by my mailbox.
“You ready for the tropical storm? They’re saying it might turn into a hurricane.” He said this like it was nothing.
“Uhhh, I’m sorry. I thought you just said hurricane. Hurricanes don’t happen in St. Thomas.”
“Yeah, well, no, they don’t, but something’s coming. Schools are closed today and tomorrow.”
In my mind, I started freaking out. But clearly, I had to keep cool. “Um, so… any pointers for this hurricane thing?" Like, flee the island maybe?
Nick just laughed. “Lots of water, non-perishables. And rum, don’t forget the rum. Good luck.”
I wished him luck too, but who was I kidding? I was going to need all the luck in the world for this damn storm! My front yard and parking lot flood so much when it rains I considered purchasing a dinghy for rainy days. Now, imagine what a hurricane would do! Oh dear God!
I headed right over to Marina Market, where I reminisced about WaWa and snowstorms in New Jersey. And how whenever Cecily Tynan predicted more than a quarter inch of snow, everyone fled to WaWa to load up on bread, eggs and milk. Marina Market was buzzing just like WaWa before a flurry. Except for the fact that everyone was wearing shorts, tank tops and flip flops.
I loaded up my basket with five huge-ish bottles of water, two cans of Maneschevitz matzoh ball soup (of which I am pretty sure I was the only taker), a Hershey’s dark chocolate bar, crackers, cheese, some chicken (so much for the non-perishables)… the list went on and on. I spoke to the man at the meat counter, who said not to worry.
“I am sure it’ll all blow over without a hitch. I doubt it’ll even be a tropical storm by the time it hits here. Just a few hours of power outages, and maybe some flooding and we’ll be good to go.”
He was not reassuring enough. I continued to load up my basket until I realized my arm was about to fall off from carrying all of this around. I paid for my items and headed back to my apartment, where I promptly asked Jeeves about the impending doom. I prepared myself for a category one hurricane, which was about the worst (or so I thought) it would be. After I learned what a category one meant, I calmed down quite a bit. Rain and wind, maybe some minor flooding. No biggie, I got this.
I then received a phone call from my landlords, who suggested I stay with friends the following night, as the storm was supposed to hit Thursday at approximately 2 AM. The storm was expected to pick up, so they were going to be staying with friends as well.
So I texted Doug, who of course was fine with me staying there the following night. I headed over to their house for dinner with all of the roommates, Doug’s parents and Don and Ally. We had an absolutely wonderful meal (cooked by Kate, of course), and sat and talked for hours. We decided we would have a Tropical Storm Party the next day. This was much more reassuring than the man at the meat counter earlier in the day.
So I went home Wednesday night stuffed and a bit excited about the impending doom that was now given a name: Omar. What kind of a crappy name was that? (My apologies if there are any Omars reading this.)
Thursday rolled around, and I packed my bag filled with all of the necessities, in case there was no power or running water available for a few days. Necessities meaning: my prettiest clothes, my Cleveland Wrecking "Destructive Tendancies" t-shirt, my iPod, laptop, my investment of make-up that requires a train case to carry, my stuffed pug and my emergency food/water supply. I’m pretty sure the Six (what I will refer to Doug/Chris/Kate/Meghan/Brian/Pat as from here on) thought I was moving in.
Meghan came by and picked me up, and we headed to Molly Mallone's at the harbor with everyone for an amazing lunch. It was Mr. Scarborough’s birthday, so we had a few drinks and then headed back to the house for the Tropical Storm Party – which had now been upgraded to a Category One Hurricane Party.
The next 12 hours were a bit of a blur. Beer pong. Upgrade to Category Two Hurricane Party. We ended up teaching 11-year Ally how to play beer pong (with water, of course, and her dad present). The Holst brothers came over, and more beer pong ensued. I was playing wine pong (as I am not drinking beer going forward); now, most people don’t know this, but the thing about wine pong is that you want the other team to drop the ball in your cup so you can drink the wine. This was confusing to Brian, my partner who was playing beer pong, and who couldn’t figure out why the Holst (Doug and Dave) boys kept dropping the ball into my wine cups, and I wasn’t dropping a single ball into their beer cups.
Then, the Scarboroughs and Don and Ally went back to their hotel, and we creeped into the empty cable-ready apartment next door and watched the Phillies game. Imagine 9 people and one island puppy cramped into a studio apartment, waiting for the potentially 2nd most exciting night in recent Philadelphia sports history (the most will be when they win). Even Doug and Dave, who are from Michigan, were cheering the Phillies on. Not that they had much of a choice.
The winds were picking up outside, and so was the rain. In the top of the seventh, things were looking good, and Doug declared that he was going to jump in the pool if the Phillies won. Sure, jumping in the pool in the middle of a category two hurricane sounded like a brilliant idea, no?
I can’t even explain the craziness and excitement that ensued after we realized our Phillies were headed to the World Series for the first time in 15 years. There was some jumping, a few phone calls, someone prying the one unboarded window open to crawl out of, bathing suits on, a waterproof camera (we hoped, anyway), and lots of cannonballs into the pool. The next twenty minutes seemed to consist of a photo shoot of everyone jumping into the water in the middle of the hurricane in the funniest ways possible. When we finally realized that the rain seemed to be turning into pellets, the gusts of wind were gaining strength and it was freakin’ freezing, we all headed into the house back through the window and dried off.
The Holst boys went home as the island technically was in a state of emergency, and it was a few hours before the eye was supposed to hit. More beer pong ensued, and I did much better this time. Maybe it was the thrill of my team going to the World Series, or maybe I was starting to realize that if I kept playing my game of wine pong, I would not be in great shape the next day.
Slowly, Chris, Kate, and Meghan trickled off to bed. Brian, for some reason unbeknownst to me, brought out his machete (I kid you not). I believe there was some kind of living creature inside the house that wasn’t supposed to be inside, and Brian needed to scare it off.
Now, when you have a machete and dozens of empty beer cans scattered around, wouldn’t your first instinct be to play machete stick ball? Doug was the pitcher, and he ended up striking out Brian. The one-half inning game was very short lived, since Pat had just discovered that the hurricane had been upgraded to a category three.
HOLY CRAP! A CATEGORY THREE HURRICANE?! I came to this island thinking that it was fairly safe, since there hadn’t been a hurricane in fifteen years. Go figure. Just my luck! Luckily, I got my lesson in meteorology from Pat, and we learned that the eye was supposed to miss St. Thomas by a hair. *PHEW!* Instead, it would hit St. Croix, which is something like 40 miles away. (On a clear day, you can see out to St. Croix.)
We all went to bed with the security of the windows boarded up and eventually woke up to the smell of stale beer wafting through the air. Not exactly the most ideal smell to wake up to.
At 7:30 AM, Kate and Chris had to head to work. The sun was shining through the cracks of the plywood boarding the windows, and there were no clear signs of any damage relating to Omar. No power outages, nothing.
Nothing for us, anyway. St. Croix was not so lucky. Boats sunk, power outages lasted for days, and some structural damage was evident. Flooding was prevalent on St. Thomas, as I am sure it is on St. Croix as well.
Pat and Brian headed to work, and Doug headed out for lunch with his parents. Their rain-soaked vacation was coming to an end that afternoon, and they luckily (or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it) had no flight delays or cancellations. Meghan and I lounged around the house literally all day. We watched The Office, had lunch, took a few catnaps, checked our email, and just enjoyed doing nothing.
Finally, I headed home to find that the community staff had already pumped the water out of the parking lot (no need for that dinghy) and most of the development. Unfortunately, the mud and warming puddles of stale rainwater left a stench for days. My outside door is still swollen from all the rain.
Now that things are back to normal (or as normal as they seem to get around here), I can say that I have survived a category three hurricane. And a 6.1 earthquake. How’s that for wanting to experience something different? The funny thing is that the tropical storm I was so petrified of ended up turning into this huge hurricane, and I had one of the most fun days/nights of my life.
And my team is going to the FREAKIN’ WORLD SERIES, BABY! WOOHOO!
“There’s a spirit of a storm in my soul.”
You know you love me,
XOXO
- Island Girl
(Clearly, there is no need for any of you to worry any longer, as the Omar has left, and I’m sitting here typing this.)
So my day Wednesday consisted of going into Red Hook to pick up a few things at the drugstore, grab an Iced Mocha from Lattes in Paradise, and check my mail. Things that would take a half hour if at home, but here took an entire afternoon to accomplish. I ran into Nick (my quarter-Armenian friend on island, and probably the entire Armenian population in St. Thomas; go figure) right by my mailbox.
“You ready for the tropical storm? They’re saying it might turn into a hurricane.” He said this like it was nothing.
“Uhhh, I’m sorry. I thought you just said hurricane. Hurricanes don’t happen in St. Thomas.”
“Yeah, well, no, they don’t, but something’s coming. Schools are closed today and tomorrow.”
In my mind, I started freaking out. But clearly, I had to keep cool. “Um, so… any pointers for this hurricane thing?" Like, flee the island maybe?
Nick just laughed. “Lots of water, non-perishables. And rum, don’t forget the rum. Good luck.”
I wished him luck too, but who was I kidding? I was going to need all the luck in the world for this damn storm! My front yard and parking lot flood so much when it rains I considered purchasing a dinghy for rainy days. Now, imagine what a hurricane would do! Oh dear God!
I headed right over to Marina Market, where I reminisced about WaWa and snowstorms in New Jersey. And how whenever Cecily Tynan predicted more than a quarter inch of snow, everyone fled to WaWa to load up on bread, eggs and milk. Marina Market was buzzing just like WaWa before a flurry. Except for the fact that everyone was wearing shorts, tank tops and flip flops.
I loaded up my basket with five huge-ish bottles of water, two cans of Maneschevitz matzoh ball soup (of which I am pretty sure I was the only taker), a Hershey’s dark chocolate bar, crackers, cheese, some chicken (so much for the non-perishables)… the list went on and on. I spoke to the man at the meat counter, who said not to worry.
“I am sure it’ll all blow over without a hitch. I doubt it’ll even be a tropical storm by the time it hits here. Just a few hours of power outages, and maybe some flooding and we’ll be good to go.”
He was not reassuring enough. I continued to load up my basket until I realized my arm was about to fall off from carrying all of this around. I paid for my items and headed back to my apartment, where I promptly asked Jeeves about the impending doom. I prepared myself for a category one hurricane, which was about the worst (or so I thought) it would be. After I learned what a category one meant, I calmed down quite a bit. Rain and wind, maybe some minor flooding. No biggie, I got this.
I then received a phone call from my landlords, who suggested I stay with friends the following night, as the storm was supposed to hit Thursday at approximately 2 AM. The storm was expected to pick up, so they were going to be staying with friends as well.
So I texted Doug, who of course was fine with me staying there the following night. I headed over to their house for dinner with all of the roommates, Doug’s parents and Don and Ally. We had an absolutely wonderful meal (cooked by Kate, of course), and sat and talked for hours. We decided we would have a Tropical Storm Party the next day. This was much more reassuring than the man at the meat counter earlier in the day.
So I went home Wednesday night stuffed and a bit excited about the impending doom that was now given a name: Omar. What kind of a crappy name was that? (My apologies if there are any Omars reading this.)
Thursday rolled around, and I packed my bag filled with all of the necessities, in case there was no power or running water available for a few days. Necessities meaning: my prettiest clothes, my Cleveland Wrecking "Destructive Tendancies" t-shirt, my iPod, laptop, my investment of make-up that requires a train case to carry, my stuffed pug and my emergency food/water supply. I’m pretty sure the Six (what I will refer to Doug/Chris/Kate/Meghan/Brian/Pat as from here on) thought I was moving in.
Meghan came by and picked me up, and we headed to Molly Mallone's at the harbor with everyone for an amazing lunch. It was Mr. Scarborough’s birthday, so we had a few drinks and then headed back to the house for the Tropical Storm Party – which had now been upgraded to a Category One Hurricane Party.
The next 12 hours were a bit of a blur. Beer pong. Upgrade to Category Two Hurricane Party. We ended up teaching 11-year Ally how to play beer pong (with water, of course, and her dad present). The Holst brothers came over, and more beer pong ensued. I was playing wine pong (as I am not drinking beer going forward); now, most people don’t know this, but the thing about wine pong is that you want the other team to drop the ball in your cup so you can drink the wine. This was confusing to Brian, my partner who was playing beer pong, and who couldn’t figure out why the Holst (Doug and Dave) boys kept dropping the ball into my wine cups, and I wasn’t dropping a single ball into their beer cups.
Then, the Scarboroughs and Don and Ally went back to their hotel, and we creeped into the empty cable-ready apartment next door and watched the Phillies game. Imagine 9 people and one island puppy cramped into a studio apartment, waiting for the potentially 2nd most exciting night in recent Philadelphia sports history (the most will be when they win). Even Doug and Dave, who are from Michigan, were cheering the Phillies on. Not that they had much of a choice.
The winds were picking up outside, and so was the rain. In the top of the seventh, things were looking good, and Doug declared that he was going to jump in the pool if the Phillies won. Sure, jumping in the pool in the middle of a category two hurricane sounded like a brilliant idea, no?
I can’t even explain the craziness and excitement that ensued after we realized our Phillies were headed to the World Series for the first time in 15 years. There was some jumping, a few phone calls, someone prying the one unboarded window open to crawl out of, bathing suits on, a waterproof camera (we hoped, anyway), and lots of cannonballs into the pool. The next twenty minutes seemed to consist of a photo shoot of everyone jumping into the water in the middle of the hurricane in the funniest ways possible. When we finally realized that the rain seemed to be turning into pellets, the gusts of wind were gaining strength and it was freakin’ freezing, we all headed into the house back through the window and dried off.
The Holst boys went home as the island technically was in a state of emergency, and it was a few hours before the eye was supposed to hit. More beer pong ensued, and I did much better this time. Maybe it was the thrill of my team going to the World Series, or maybe I was starting to realize that if I kept playing my game of wine pong, I would not be in great shape the next day.
Slowly, Chris, Kate, and Meghan trickled off to bed. Brian, for some reason unbeknownst to me, brought out his machete (I kid you not). I believe there was some kind of living creature inside the house that wasn’t supposed to be inside, and Brian needed to scare it off.
Now, when you have a machete and dozens of empty beer cans scattered around, wouldn’t your first instinct be to play machete stick ball? Doug was the pitcher, and he ended up striking out Brian. The one-half inning game was very short lived, since Pat had just discovered that the hurricane had been upgraded to a category three.
HOLY CRAP! A CATEGORY THREE HURRICANE?! I came to this island thinking that it was fairly safe, since there hadn’t been a hurricane in fifteen years. Go figure. Just my luck! Luckily, I got my lesson in meteorology from Pat, and we learned that the eye was supposed to miss St. Thomas by a hair. *PHEW!* Instead, it would hit St. Croix, which is something like 40 miles away. (On a clear day, you can see out to St. Croix.)
We all went to bed with the security of the windows boarded up and eventually woke up to the smell of stale beer wafting through the air. Not exactly the most ideal smell to wake up to.
At 7:30 AM, Kate and Chris had to head to work. The sun was shining through the cracks of the plywood boarding the windows, and there were no clear signs of any damage relating to Omar. No power outages, nothing.
Nothing for us, anyway. St. Croix was not so lucky. Boats sunk, power outages lasted for days, and some structural damage was evident. Flooding was prevalent on St. Thomas, as I am sure it is on St. Croix as well.
Pat and Brian headed to work, and Doug headed out for lunch with his parents. Their rain-soaked vacation was coming to an end that afternoon, and they luckily (or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it) had no flight delays or cancellations. Meghan and I lounged around the house literally all day. We watched The Office, had lunch, took a few catnaps, checked our email, and just enjoyed doing nothing.
Finally, I headed home to find that the community staff had already pumped the water out of the parking lot (no need for that dinghy) and most of the development. Unfortunately, the mud and warming puddles of stale rainwater left a stench for days. My outside door is still swollen from all the rain.
Now that things are back to normal (or as normal as they seem to get around here), I can say that I have survived a category three hurricane. And a 6.1 earthquake. How’s that for wanting to experience something different? The funny thing is that the tropical storm I was so petrified of ended up turning into this huge hurricane, and I had one of the most fun days/nights of my life.
And my team is going to the FREAKIN’ WORLD SERIES, BABY! WOOHOO!
“There’s a spirit of a storm in my soul.”
You know you love me,
XOXO
- Island Girl
20 October, 2008
All Shook Up
Ah, it feels so good to have a new Kenny Chesney album to listen to. Better yet is the fact that I get to live these songs on a daily basis; his albums tend to be the soundtrack of our lives down here. Even if all the boys make fun of his “stupid tractor song,” his five-minute marriage and his height, I know they all secretly covet the graceful guitar and steel drum melodies. (It’s true: I know at least one of them has Kenny on his iPod.) For those who are impartial, be sure to listen to That Lucky Old Sun (Just Rolls Around Heaven All Day) from his new album, featuring Willie Nelson. It could be one of the best country songs written in a long time.
For me, it’s that design mentality of immersing yourself completely for inspiration. I feel that being down here is bringing about a renewed perspective on everything from culture to growing up to design and style. I know that sounds rather odd, with the obvious lack of anything resembling a fashion environment here. However, every once in a while a change of scenery can recharge the mind and spirit.
So continuing on with one of the most exciting weeks I’ve ever had…
Early one morning last week I awoke to the apartment shaking. I tried to peel one eye open to look at the clock, and it was six AM. The first thought in my mind was, “Is there a train station right around here that only runs once every few weeks?” It would not surprise me, to be honest.
No, that wasn’t it. There are no trains on this island. It was an actual earthquake. But at six AM, it didn’t matter that there was a sound of coconuts falling on the roof, the lampshades were shaking uncontrollably, and the bed seemed to be inching forward. The power had gone out (and when that happens here, you can forget about doing anything involving electricity for at least an hour). It didn’t matter that in first grade, we learned that if an earthquake ever happened (in New Jersey, of all places), one should position themselves in a doorframe. All of that was shot to hell. It was six AM for crying out loud! I closed my eyes and went back to sleep.
I later woke up around 9 and remembered the shaking of the room. It then occurred to me that earthquakes actually happen outside of New Jersey, and that just may have been an earthquake. The power was restored, but I had all sorts of internet problems as I logged onto my computer, so when I finally got decent access, I asked Jeeves (www.ask.com, so much better than Google) about earthquakes in the Virgin Islands – and lo and behold, there were twelve reported while I was getting my beauty sleep! TWELVE! And one at six AM was reported in the BVIs at a 6.1 magnitude! That was the one I felt, and let me tell you, it was kind of awesome.
Then my cell phone started going a little crazy, and I had received three text messages from different people all at once. It seemed a little fishy to me, and I realized my phone service was just restored after some kind of earthquake-related hiatus. Thank goodness it did, because I had to call my “little” brother to wish him a happy twenty-first birthday!
"Stars are dancing on the water here tonight. It's good for the soul when there's not a soul in sight. This boat has caught its wind and brought me back to life, and I'm alive and well. And today, you know, that's good enough for me. Breathing in and out is a blessing, can't you see? Today's the first day of the rest of my life. And I'm alive and well."
You know you love me,
XOXO
-Island Girl
For me, it’s that design mentality of immersing yourself completely for inspiration. I feel that being down here is bringing about a renewed perspective on everything from culture to growing up to design and style. I know that sounds rather odd, with the obvious lack of anything resembling a fashion environment here. However, every once in a while a change of scenery can recharge the mind and spirit.
So continuing on with one of the most exciting weeks I’ve ever had…
Early one morning last week I awoke to the apartment shaking. I tried to peel one eye open to look at the clock, and it was six AM. The first thought in my mind was, “Is there a train station right around here that only runs once every few weeks?” It would not surprise me, to be honest.
No, that wasn’t it. There are no trains on this island. It was an actual earthquake. But at six AM, it didn’t matter that there was a sound of coconuts falling on the roof, the lampshades were shaking uncontrollably, and the bed seemed to be inching forward. The power had gone out (and when that happens here, you can forget about doing anything involving electricity for at least an hour). It didn’t matter that in first grade, we learned that if an earthquake ever happened (in New Jersey, of all places), one should position themselves in a doorframe. All of that was shot to hell. It was six AM for crying out loud! I closed my eyes and went back to sleep.
I later woke up around 9 and remembered the shaking of the room. It then occurred to me that earthquakes actually happen outside of New Jersey, and that just may have been an earthquake. The power was restored, but I had all sorts of internet problems as I logged onto my computer, so when I finally got decent access, I asked Jeeves (www.ask.com, so much better than Google) about earthquakes in the Virgin Islands – and lo and behold, there were twelve reported while I was getting my beauty sleep! TWELVE! And one at six AM was reported in the BVIs at a 6.1 magnitude! That was the one I felt, and let me tell you, it was kind of awesome.
Then my cell phone started going a little crazy, and I had received three text messages from different people all at once. It seemed a little fishy to me, and I realized my phone service was just restored after some kind of earthquake-related hiatus. Thank goodness it did, because I had to call my “little” brother to wish him a happy twenty-first birthday!
"Stars are dancing on the water here tonight. It's good for the soul when there's not a soul in sight. This boat has caught its wind and brought me back to life, and I'm alive and well. And today, you know, that's good enough for me. Breathing in and out is a blessing, can't you see? Today's the first day of the rest of my life. And I'm alive and well."
You know you love me,
XOXO
-Island Girl
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