The Weakest Pen is Better than the Strongest Memory

Cha cha cha changes.

2012-02-10T14:18:00.000-05:00

Having our basement jackhammered last week was the catalyst we needed to jump-start our search for new flooring. Maybe it's because the rest of the reno process has been so painful and we deserved some cosmic justice, or maybe it's just luck, but we found the perfect flooring after visiting only two stores. Soon that horrible cement will be covered with beautiful hand-scraped cherry (on the top of the pile of wood samples). I can hardly wait!

Oh, and that tumbled travertine tile? Well, that's just back splash daydreaming at this point...

The strangest phone conversation I've ever had.

2012-02-07T15:29:00.001-05:00

Last week when the waterproofing team drilled out our basement and installed a sump pump, they also lugged out our old cement utility sink and replaced it with a newer, lighter, cleaner fiberglass version.

It's a nice upgrade from its cracked and graffitied predecessor. However, Mike the technician was missing a part, so we set a day for him to come back and finish installing it. That day was yesterday.

Normally I wouldn't care about not having access to our utility sink, but our washing machine drains into the sink, so we've been without a washing machine for a week and are running out of clean laundry.

I called Mike yesterday to confirm our appointment.  He didn't answer, so I left a message.

He called me back yesterday afternoon.  The below is an (as far as I can remember) exact account of our conversation:

Me: Hi Mike. Thanks for calling me back.

Mike: Hi Rachel, I've got some bad news.

Me : (Thinking he's going to say he is too busy and can't make it out that night) Oh?

Mike: I just walked in the door and found my Mom dead on the floor.

Me: What? Oh my gosh! That's horrible. I'm so sorry!

Mike: Yeah. I mean, I haven't called anyone yet. My kids are freaking out.

(Kids crying and dogs barking in background)

Me: Mike, I'm so sorry!  Please just take care of what you need to take care of. Call the ambulance.

Mike: Yeah, I mean, I need to clean it all up. It looks like she had a heart attack, but I'm really not sure. My kids are just freaking out right now. I just brought her up from Oklahoma to live with me. My kids don't know what to do...

Me: I'm so sorry. This is just horrible. I'm so sorry.

Mike: I noticed that your husband has some tools. If he has tools, you can just hack the pipe off yourself and install a new pipe. It's not that hard.

Me: Don't worry about that, Mike. We'll figure something out with your company. Don't even worry about that right now. Just take care of what you need to take care of.

Mike: Yeah, I mean, my kids are freaking out, you know? My mom is just lying there dead on the floor. I don't know what happened. I haven't called anyone yet. She's just here and she's dead...

Me: I'm so so sorry, Mike! Please don't worry at all about your appointment. Just take care of your kids and take care of what you need to take care of.

Mike: Ok. Ok. I'm sure you can do the installation yourself. We'll talk later.

I think he must have been in shock and I must have been the first person to pop up in his recently called/call back list. I felt so horrible for him. What an awful thing to have happen...especially with his kids there!

I've never had a stranger phone call in all my life.

A warning to residents of the D.M.V

2012-02-03T11:54:00.002-05:00

To all you folks living in the (202)/(703)/(301), here's a word to the wise. Don't ever use the following companies:

MER Waterproofing. We waited half a Saturday for them to show up to give us an estimate. They never came or called. When I called to report the issue on the following Monday they said they'd figure it out and give me a call back. They never did. Infuriating.

Mr. Tire. I'm sure you all distinctly remember my recent whiny post about spending 4.5 hours in a crummy Mr. Tire shop while Blake argued with an extremely dishonest and rude manager. We ended up paying them what they asked, but it was a rip-off. It's not surprising that a company can talk you into things when they've got your car 10 feet off the ground and refuse to bring it down to you unless you pay their fees.

Deep Breath Air Duct Cleaning.
WHAT A JOKE. Blake and I bought a Groupon for this company about two weeks ago. I set up the appointment for the past Wednesday from 3:00 - 5:00 p.m.

Having not received a phone call from Deep Breath to confirm the day before, I called them on Wednesday morning. I did not receive a call back until 12:00 noon from a technician that was at my house. He claimed that my appointment was from 12:00 - 4:00 rather than from 3:00 - 5:00 as had previously been confirmed.

After some arguing and a few calls to the main office I found out that they had switched my appointment without telling me. They claimed to have left a message on my phone, but I never received a message or any proof that they had even called.

I arranged with the technician to be home by 2:30 and he confirmed that he'd have someone at my house at 3:00. I raced out of work even earlier than I'd planned and made it home by 2:15.

Well, 3:00 came and went. 3:45 came and went. I called the technician several times. No answer. By this time I'm extremely frustrated. I called the office. They confirmed that they'd have the technician call me. 20 minutes later- still no call. So I placed another call to the office. I called the technician again. He answered and I asked why they had not yet come and tried to confirm that they'd be coming before 5:00 p.m.

Here's a little of our conversation:

Hi, I'm just calling to confirm that you'll be coming before 5:00.

No, no one is coming to your house today.

Um, sir, you confirmed for me earlier today that you'd for sure be here by 3:00.

No. I never said that.

Yes, you did. And I took time off work today to have this done. I came home at 2:30 because you confirmed I needed to be there by that time if possible.

NO YOU DID NOT COME HOME FROM WORK! YOU ARE NOT HOME! YOU ARE NOT HOME BECAUSE I CONFIRMED THAT WE ARE NOT COMING TODAY!!!

Sir, that is not what you confirmed for me earlier.

Click. Yep. He hung up on me.

So, for the 15th time that day I called the office and explained the situation. They were apologetic, but refused to do anything for me on that day. I set up an appointment for this weekend, which was the earliest they could slot me in. I also had them confirm that they would not be sending that hostile technician to my house.

This morning comes and I call to confirm that we have an appointment this weekend. Turns out there's no record of us having any appointment this weekend and they're all booked for the next three weeks! They also refused to do anything for me for my trouble.
So it's obvious to me that this company is neither professional nor honest. I'm working with Groupon to get a refund, and I'm very much hoping that other people in search of duct cleaning come upon this review and decide never to use Deep Breath Air Duct Cleaning. Don't use them. I can't emphasize that enough.

(Sigh) It's been a really long couple of weeks. And maybe I've lost a little bit of my faith in humanity...or at least in Corporate America. There's a moderate to high chance that the Better Business Bureau will shortly be receiving a call from me with a long list of grievances.

P.S. D.M.V. = District Maryland Virginia

Damp no more.

2012-01-31T12:58:00.000-05:00

Ahh the sweet, sweet sound of (jackhammering) home improvment.

All framed up.

2012-01-26T09:13:00.000-05:00

Ashton made me a set of truly beautiful note cards for my birthday a few years ago. Each one has a custom designed fabric dress. They were, quite simply, too beautiful to use as note cards (I didn't want to give them away!).

I'd been wanting to frame them for a long time, but knew that it would have to be custom and didn't want to spend the money. Then the stars aligned (read: Michael's was having a 60% off custom framing sale and my Mom came into town and brought with her great ideas) and my long-awaited idea finally became a reality.

Now I've just got to figure out where to hang them. Someday if we have a daughter I'll hang them in her room, but for now I am thinking of hanging them in the basement near Blake's framed matchbox car collection as as sort of masculine/feminine comparison.

I'm absolutely smitten by them and couldn't be more thrilled to finally be able to showcase them in my home.

Thanks again, Ashton!

The first time Saturday is the worst day of the week.

2012-01-24T16:59:00.001-05:00

Saturday is usually my favorite day of the week: sleep in, putter around the house in pajamas for a while, eat a big breakfast/brunch, relax...but this past Saturday was the anti-Saturday Saturday. Let me give you a breakdown:

-Wake up at 8:00 a.m. to a pounding on the door. Jump out of bed thinking it's the contractor arriving early. Repeatedly and unsuccessful try to stuff my dead/asleep arm into my sweatshirt while answering Blake's groggy "whhaaaat?" with "he's here...he's here...the guy...the guy..."

-Race down to the door and discover that it was not the contractor.

- Lay back down in bed, flustered, confused and unable to get back to sleep.

- Wake up to 8:30 Marimba alarm to get ready for the waterproofing contractor scheduled to come between 9:00 - 10:00.

-Wait for four hours while contractor doesn't show up.

- Paint basement puppet theater and get intoxicated with fumes from the decidedly high-VOC magnetic primer.

- Shower quickly, but forgo washing hair for the fourth day in a row due to perpetual lateness.

- Drive carefully to Mr. Tire on gimpy spare and almost-flat front passenger side tire for 2:30 appointment.

- Listen as the assistant manager declares that they will not honor warranty or road hazard insurance because the cause of two flats on relatively new tires is unknown.

- Listen to Blake and said assistant manager argue about warranty and other issues.

- Sit for 4.5 hours in Mr. Tire with Blake and nothing to do.

- Get stomach-ache and headache from smelling horrible rubber smell for 4.5 hours.

- Get stressed enough to declare that any more time in Mr. Tire would result in a self-indulging J.Crew and Dunkin' Donut shopping spree.

- Pay a fortune for two new tires and a re-alignment.

- Think about how many nice things could be bought at J.Crew with this fortune.

- Drive home too tired and upset to do anything except pick up a pizza, put on pajamas, and veg in front of the TV for the rest of the evening.

The one in which we're rescued by two burly men.

2012-01-20T11:23:00.000-05:00

I thought the day was going well when I headed home early from work to wait for Washington Gas to come install a new meter reader and they actually came on time. You know how all utilities like to seize control of your life and schedule by giving you a three hour window? Well, my window was 4:00 - 7:00 p.m. and the guy actually came at 4:30. And was in and out in less than 10 minutes! You heard that right: a serviceman showed up on the early-side of the window and actually came and left without any trouble or trying to up-sell me anything.

Like I said, the afternoon was going mighty fine.

Then, at 6:45 when I went to pick up Blake from the metro and then head to dinner with friends, everything took a turn for the worse. It is probably a three minute drive from our house to the metro kiss-and-ride, but somehow in that three minutes I managed to get a flat (VERY FLAT) tire on the front driver's side.

As I turned onto the main road to cross the intersection by our house, I started to feel a horrible shuddering/scraping and hear a screeching/scratching/rumbling coming from the car. I felt like I was driving the space shuttle circa 1970. It was that loud and bumpy.

Pedestrians walking home from the metro were turning to watch me cross the intersection as sparks were flying from under the car and a sound akin to a jackhammer assaulted their ears.

I felt trapped. There's nowhere to pull over (unless I wanted to block an entire lane of traffic). The next block felt like an eternity, but I had no choice.

I pulled into the kiss-and-ride as quickly as I could into the spot nearest the road, stopped the car, jumped out, and investigated.

Flat as a pancake. And giving off a rubbery-smelling smoke.

I had been driving on my rims for the last block. I hate to think of the ruts I must have left in the street along the way.

As I frantically called Blake, I noticed a man walking towards me. It was the young, clean-cut driver of the temple shuttle. He ran up to see if I needed help and told me he could hear me coming all the way down the street. Perfect. (And that, my friends, proves that Mormons really are the nicest!)

I told Mr. Temple Van Driver that we'd be fine and my husband would be there momentarily. Well, turns out that we probably should have used his help.

The bolts on the wheel were so tight that we couldn't get them to budge.

We tried for 15 minutes, called our friends to reschedule dinner, and then called AAA.

They routed us first through Northern California, then, when we explained we were in Washington DC, they routed us through Washington State (of course), and then finally to Maryland. It took about 15 minutes just to talk to the right person. We were told that it would be another 45 minutes before someone could get to us.

So we went back out into the 20 degree weather to have another go at it. (Did I mention that I'd left my gloves at home because I didn't think I'd be outside. Perfect. Frozen claw hands.) No luck for another 5 minutes.

Then, the heavens parted and two men that were meeting up at the metro took pity on us and came over to investigate. Turns out they were mechanics. Big, all-knowing mechanics. What are the odds?

With some finagling, they had the offending tire off and replaced with our spare with ease. Our spare that also turned out to be rather flat.

Luckily it was not quite flat enough that we couldn't drive on it. We made it around the corner to the nearest gas station and filled the spare before crossing our fingers and heading for home.

We were cold, stressed and tired. So, after telling Blake that I was never driving alone, anywhere, ever again, we ended tried to mend what was left of the evening by ordering Chinese. Takeout is always a good consolation prize.

Fill it up. Pin it up.

2012-01-18T12:50:00.000-05:00

My weekend girls' trip to Charleston got cancelled at the last minute, so I had an unexpectedly productive weekend. Friday night I picked up an ugly bulletin board from Target for $9.34 and spent an hour transforming it into a linen and nail-head pinboard courtesy of an idea I spotted in a design magazine and some left-over materials from other projects I had hanging out in our basement.

Blake helped me hang it (I'm nothing if not horrible at centering/leveling/measuring things) and, there you have it, an under $10.00, under an hour project to fill that horrible blank wall in the study that's been staring me in the face for the past two years.

Remember how I said that gestational period for my projects is usually about ten months? Well, this project (from idea to completion) took only a day, but my desire to put something on that wall has been haunting me since we moved into the house. Now, where does that put me in terms of a project timeline?

The A to your Q

2012-01-13T14:55:00.000-05:00

Due to the overwhelming response to yesterday's challenge (italics dripping with sarcasm, of course) I thought I'd post the answer:

That beautiful gilded ceiling is found in The Warner Theater downtown Washington, D.C.

I always love going in there because it feels much more like a palace you'd find three blocks from Notre Dame rather than a theater found three blocks away from the White House. Ornate ceilings are a lost art.

Blake and I saw The Nutcracker at the Warner just before Christmas. It was glorious (though, admittedly, the male dancers make Blake too uncomfortable for him to thoroughly enjoy the show). I am hoping that we can make it a yearly tradition. Nothing feels quite so Christmas-y as the Nutcracker.

A Quest

2012-01-12T12:53:00.000-05:00

I'll give you ten points (and will forevermore be impressed with you) if you can guess where this ceiling is:

It's beautiful, don't you think?

HoliDecorations

2012-01-10T16:05:00.000-05:00

My in-laws house is always decorated beautifully, but I especially love it at Christmas. These photos don't really do it justice (I stole them from Blake's phone), but I was too busy enjoying myself to take too many photos.

I'm having a fun time remembering Christmas Eve: a perfect salmon dinner, lots of baked treats, a concert (complete with choreographed dance moves to "Let it Snow") by the kiddos, the annual nativity, discussing the likelihood of Santa being real with some of the older curious kids, and watching the excitement on their faces as they opened gifts.

One of my favorite things about Christmas is listening to and chatting with the kids. They always have the funniest things to say. This year my favorite kid-ism came not from my nieces and nephews, but from one of our 12-year-old Sunday school kids.

Blake and I taught a Christmas-themed lesson a week before Christmas. We had some extra time at the end and the kids were getting obnoxious and loud (in such a way as only those middle-school-aged kids can be), so I read them my favorite Christmas story: The Other Wise Man. My family reads The Other Wise Man every year on Christmas Even in addition to Luke 2. It's a beautifully told and beautifully illustrated story.

After two pages the kids were hooked. They pulled their chairs in close and, miraculously, closed their mouths. They were unusually quiet right up until the point where Herod sends his troops to kill all of the babies. At this point there was some interjection from the heretofore silent peanut gallery.

Christian interrupted: "wait! wait! Herod killed all the babies?!"

Me: "Yes, Christian, he did. Horrible, right?"

Christian: In a shocked tone "Well, I hope he goes to HELL!"

Tate: scandalized "Christian! We don't say HELL, we say HECK!"

Me: Trying to stifle a giggle "um, ok, let's just continue on with the story..."

Man I love those kids. They always keep me entertained.

It's amazing how far behind in life I've gotten due to my nasty battle with strep over the break. Alas. I'll catch up someday. Sooner or later the un-written ideas in my head and the dust/hair bunnies tumbling across my floors will force me into fully catching up to the present.

Taking a break with the wee elves.

2012-01-09T14:49:00.000-05:00

It's going to be a crazy week this week, but I had to take a quick break from the madness to look back at some of my pictures from Christmas. I made these Santa/Elves props for our Christmas party and ended up bringing them to our family Christmas Eve party to entertain the kiddos. They (Right: Ella, Coco and Sidney. Left: James and Jack) had a great time posing as Santa in front of the Christmas tree.

I think my favorite part was trying to direct them how to hold the beards and hats: no James, the beard goes over your mouth and chin...not up over your eyebrows...but close...well, close enough...

Sigh

2012-01-03T13:08:00.000-05:00

Remember how I planned to spend my time off making my way through this list of things to get paid for while I wasn't working?

Well, some of the cute kidlets were sick at Christmas Eve dinner...so I was sick two days later. Strep throat is never fun, but at least it can be cured with a quick round of Zythromax, a comfy bed, and a stack of movies.

So besides sniffling, drinking tea, taking meds and waiting to be less uncomfortable, here's what I actually accomplished over my break:

- Going to the temple with my Blake and having a Cafe Rio lunch with old friends
Yep. Did both of those things on Christmas Eve eve. It was fun to see Scott & Kirby and fun to try the new Cafe Rio location in Arlington. We even got a free meal, which is never a bad thing.

- Going to a pre-Christmas kickoff
We briefly made it out of our post-Cafe Rio food coma in time to head to a party hosted by some friends from church. There must have been 30 kids there running around having a great time...and that made it all the more festive.

- Cooking and baking galore
I got a little bit carried away baking for Christmas eve dinner. I made homemade oreos, a french lemon tart, spiral sugar cookies, chocolate chip meringues and chocolate and caramel dipped marshmallows. I have a sugar hangover just thinking about it.

- Eating, eating and more eating
Check, check, and triple check.

- Wrapping and subsequently opening presents
Wrapping presents is one of my favorite things to do and I had a wonderful time doing it this year. I treated myself to several different kinds of paper, ribbons and tags and had a grand old time listening to music, watching Christmas movies, and creating Christmas masterpieces.

- Watching my nieces and nephews perform the nativity
There was surprisingly little crying. We even had a Joseph this year thanks to a flannel shirt and a quickly drawn beard on Sidney. It was as cute as ever.

- Celebrating Christmas Eve and Christmas day with Blake's family
Christmas is always so fun with kids. We had a big dinner, presents and the nativity with all the nieces and nephews, then woke up late on Christmas, went to church and finally opened presents around 3:00 p.m. My how things have changed since the early days of waking up at 5:30 to bother my parents into letting us open gifts.

- Sharing in the kids' anticipation of Santa
Most of them still believe. And the ones who don't are still so excited for Christmas that it doesn't dampen the spirit of anticipation.

- Chatting with my family on the phone
The darn time difference makes this difficult, but we had a great time chatting.

- Watching multiple movies at home and at the theater
We saw Sherlock Holmes (two thumbs way down! super boring!) and MI4 (two thumbs, surprisingly, way up!) in the theaters, watched Midnight in Paris twice (Blake got it for me for Christmas) and filled in the other time with episodes of Castle, The Dead Zone, and rental movies.

- Painting my toenails (because it's vacation and I have time to be luxurious)
Didn't do this one. Oh well.

- Picking out and installing a new bathroom light fixture (hopefully)
Check. I'll post pictures soon. The bathroom is a like-new, light-flooded, room. I could hardly believe it! And for less than $40.00! It was definitely one of those things that made us both wonder why we'd waited so long to do it.

- Painting the guest bathroom, guest room and downstairs puppet theater
I painted the guest bathroom, but didn't get to either of the other two projects. In my sickness-induced stupor it took me two loooong days of painting just to do the tiny bathroom. I probably shouldn't have done that (hindsight is much clearer than strep-throat clouded sight), but it looks so good that I have no regrets. Once we added the new light fixture and bought some bright white towels it looked like a brand new space. We've definitely classed up the joint.

- Staying in my pajamas for a long as I want to
Sickness = pajamas. End of story. Poor Blake had to deal with seeing me only in PJs or painting clothes (which are worse...much worse) for a week straight. I think he'd forgotten that I clean up ok. In fact, I think I'd forgotten that I clean up ok.

Now it's back to reality. I've finished my round of antibiotics and Blake should be starting his today (I am feeling extremely guilty for sharing this particular Christmas gift with him). Wish us luck.

Georgetown's Christmas Generosity

2011-12-22T10:01:00.000-05:00

There's really no better feeling in all the world than setting your out-of-office e-mail and knowing that you won't be back in the office for a week and a half. Oh, and on top of that, knowing that the week and half is paid.

Here's what I plan to spend the next week and a half getting paid to do:

- Going to the temple with my Blake and having a Cafe Rio lunch with old friends
- Going to a pre-Christmas kickoff
- Cooking and baking galore
- Eating, eating and more eating
- Wrapping and subsequently opening presents
- Watching my nieces and nephews perform the nativity
- Celebrating Christmas Eve and Christmas day with Blake's family
- Sharing in the kids' anticipation of Santa
- Chatting with my family on the phone
- Watching multiple movies at home and at the theater
- Painting my toenails (because it's vacation and I have time to be luxurious)
- Picking out and installing a new bathroom light fixture (hopefully)
- Painting the guest bathroom, guest room and downstairs puppet theater
- Staying in my pajamas for a long as I want to

Now if only I could figure out a way to get paid to do exactly what I want every day of the year. THAT would be the life.

Christmas Crafting

2011-12-15T12:23:00.000-05:00

We're staying in DC for Christmas this year (Blake's parents live 20 minutes from us) so we've been going all out with the decorations.

Christmas is really the only holiday I decorate for, but my budget and lack of time prevent me from adding more than a couple new things every year. During last night's viewing of NCIS: Los Angeles (LL Cool J and Chris O'Donnell? You know that's right!) I finished up my newest addition to our festive decor.

Two dollars for the felt (with tons left over), four dollars for the faux cranberry garland, some leftover red thread and a couple hours of hacking away with my somewhat useless scissors, and voila:

Ok, so it's more like joy to France, Paris, Rome, London and DC...but close enough.

Simply having a wonderful Christmas time.

2011-12-13T15:53:00.000-05:00

It's been a glorious Christmas season so far. Blake and I have been making the most of it. We picked out our Christmas tree at our traditional lot and decorated it with the ornaments that we collected together on our travels and throughout our childhoods. Unpacking Christmas ornaments every year brings back so many fun memories.

We went to see/hear The Messiah at Strathmore on Saturday night with Blake's parents. It was absolutely beautiful and especially fun for me because I got to see my old friend, Becky, who was in the choir.

We've also wrapped presents, hung garland and twinkle lights, stood in many a line at the mall, decorated the church for the ward Christmas party, crafted, baked, and watched all manner of traditional Christmas movies. We've already checked off Love Actually, It's a Wonderful Life, Elf and Home Alone 1. Next up are, naturally, Home Alone 2 and Miracle on 34th Street. Christmas just isn't complete without the whole line-up.

Between now and Christmas we've got work parties, parties with friends, The Nutcracker, and countless more cookies to bake and a stack of presents to wrap. Yes, it's busy, but I don't want it to end.

Thanksgiving

2011-12-06T13:05:00.000-05:00

We had Thanksgiving with my family this year. It didn't quite break the record of 2009 (28 people at dinner), but we almost made it with whopping total of 23 people around two long tables.

My only contribution to Thanksgiving dinner (I know, the shame! the laziness!) was picking up flowers and candles and setting the tables. I got to use a large portion of my Grandy's goblet collection. Growing up the goblets were always one of my favorite parts of holiday meals and I was excited that we'd be keeping the tradition. Arent' they beautiful? I wish I'd gotten a close up of some of my favorites, but this view will have to do.

While my Mom and I worked in the kitchen, the boys "worked" hard in the family room. Most families watch football over Thanksgiving...my family watches soccer. I secretly think that the only reason my parents have cable is so that my Dad and brothers can catch all of the exciting European soccer games. (Notice Danny's look of disgust as they argue the various merits of the competing teams).

As a side note: here's the view from my parents' kitchen. Not a bad way to spend the day: smelling roasting turkey and fresh cranberries while looking out over the valley.

Here we all are sitting at Thanksgiving dinner together (and in various states of post-glutton stupor). My brothers and cousins had a contest to see who could gain the most weight from dinner. There was a pre-dinner weigh-in, a post-dinner weigh-in, and a post-pie weigh-in.

Jimmy gained 4.5(!!!) pounds and briefly won the title of All-Conquering-Eater before having a reversal of fortune which cost him 3 pounds and the eternal glory. Sad and gross all in one.

And because apparently I wasn't as full after Thanksgiving as I thought I was (after my third piece of pie I promised myself I wouldn't eat again for another week), we added more food to the mix with a lunch date with old friends at Cafe Paysans.

I've been friends with Ashton since the 4th grade and Meg since the 9th grade. Other than my Mom, Grandy and Blake, I probably talk to these ladies more than anyone else in the world. They're the sort of pals that I couldn't live without and even after not seeing them for a year, we're able to pick right back up where we left off as if it were the good ole' days in the Pink House.

I'm so glad that we've added Stephen, Stephen (yes, both their husbands are named Stephen), Blake, Sam, and soon, Ivy to the mix. We make a good team.

What are the odds in a city this big?

2011-12-01T14:57:00.000-05:00

Blake was sick yesterday. And when Blake is sick I ride the metro in to work alone. And when I ride in alone I often end up sitting next to some weird and/or less-than-desirable folks.

At the station after mine someone with a vaguely familiar voice got on. There were several open seats around me, but she came to sit by me on the inside seat near the window. I had several bags near my feet (yes, I've become a bag lady. I just always have so much to carry to work...) so I scootched sideways to let her pass by.

She was carrying only one bag, but looked disapprovingly down at me and directed "you'll need to get up..can't you see I have all this stuff?"

It was then that I realized exactly who I was dealing with: my fashion foe of yore. I knew I recognized that voice!

So, somewhat out of spite, but mostly out of my inability to gather my bags and get up quickly enough, I just scootched a little more and she huffily sat down beside me. Miffed though she was, it didn't stop her from immediately starting an inane conversation about the weather and fires on the metro.

I answered quickly and just as quickly went back to reading. There's no way I was going to let her criticize today's three-year-old Banana Republic Sweater. I'm not sure if it's as out-of-style as my cowl neck sweater, but I'm not taking any chances.

The Gatekeeper

2011-11-29T16:04:00.000-05:00

Blake and I brought back a sinus infection (for Blake) and the stomach flu (for me) from our Thanksgiving vacation. Our suitcases remain unpacked, we're still slowly recovering and we're missing our family, friends and the fun time we had in Utah.

Later this week I'll get to the wonderful food and the 23 people we had at Thanksgiving dinner, but until I've transferred all the photos onto the computer and found a few minutes to write, I'll leave you with this photo of my family's cuddle-worthy dog, Noosa.

Noosa is 9 years old, arthritic and getting grey, but she still vigilantly guards the door any time she sees suitcases. I love that dog. Hope to see you again soon, Noosa.

I'm probably the only one who thinks this is funny:

2011-11-17T16:46:00.001-05:00

Lately I haven't been able to get enough Linguist Llama. For all you other linguists out there, check it out. You won't regret it. For all you non-linguists, well, you probably won't like it and may regret it. Who knows, it may even cause you to question my sense of humor and re-think our friendship. Then I'll regret it, too.

You may have noticed that I tend to verb nouns, noun verbs and create all sorts of hybrid/non-existent words in between. I've said it before: I'm a linguist and I do what I want.

If you're like some of my non-linguist professors (what's with subtracting points for a nouned verb now and then?!) and you don't believe me, here's Linguist Llama to add his (her? its?) stamp of approval:

You can't argue with that face.

Weekend Tamalada

2011-11-16T12:43:00.000-05:00

Until last week I never knew there was whole word devoted just to describing a tamale-making party: tamalada. Thanks to my friend, Anna, I am now enlightened. I am also now the proud owner of a freezer full of hand-made tamales.

We got together a group of adventurous and epicurious souls at Anna's house on Saturday and set about making 350 (!) pork and chicken tamales. None of us had attempted tamales before, but we came armed with spatulas, mixing bowls, and pre-assigned portions of the tamale. Mine was a tomatillo sauce (which, incidentally, ended up taking me 3 hours to make...yikes!).

We took over the kitchen and dining room at Anna's, banished her husband and boys outside to jump in the leaves, and organized an assembly line of sorts: unfold husks, mash masa onto husks, spread sauce onto masa, put mean over sauce, fold, tie, put in pile according to spiciness. It was quite the process.

It took us 4 hours to put together 350-ish tamales. That meant I'd been on my feet cooking/preparing for seven hours that day and my back was completely spent.

I didn't know cooking could be so painful. When I got home, I took two Advil and complained the rest of the evening about my aches and pains (poor Blake!).

53 tamales in my freezer = a lot of easy meals for the next couple months. Not too shabby for a Saturday: a freezer full of dinners and a sore back.

My Secrets

2011-11-11T12:11:00.000-05:00

Here's a secret that I'm ashamed of and proud to admit at the same time (kind of like my need to trim my eyebrows on a weekly basis): I am sometimes too cheap even for flea markets.

There. It's out in the open.

Take these vintage pool balls, for example:

I took this photo at the Brooklyn Flea a couple weeks ago. I've been looking for something to put in these glass lamps for a while now. I wanted something that would add color and visual interested to our mostly muted bedroom. Vintage pool balls seem like just the thing. I was hoping to take them home with me until the scraggly, bespectacled hipster running the booth told me the price: $3.00 each or 2 for $5.00.

Picture my triumphant smile turning instantly into a frown.

I left without them. But never fear, I found a large supply of vintage pool balls on ebay. The best part is that they're $9.99 for an entire set. That's like 1000% cheaper than at The Flea. (Pardon my math. I exaggerate when I'm excited about home decor. You can ask Blake.)

So that's my secret. It pays to be cheaper than a flea market. It also pays to keep my eyebrows trimmed (so I don't look like this guy) - but that's a story for another time.

At long last.

2011-11-07T16:21:00.000-05:00

I've been looking for a hard-bound copy of My Name is Asher Lev - my favorite book - for over 10 years now. I've searched high and low for a copy. When I did actually find copies they were way out of my price range (being that it hasn't been printed in hard copy for a really long time).

I almost cried for joy when I struck literature gold on Saturday at the book sale at our local library. We had wandered in to the basement of the library on my way up to find a copy of this month's book club book - The Alchemist. And it was there, in the depths of library basement, after looking at every book on the fiction aisle for an hour, that I found it. High on a shelf in the top corner. At last. My Name is Asher Lev. And the price? $1.00.

It was serendipity! I snatched it up and protectively (greedily even?) carried it around with me while Blake and I each collected a rather embarrassingly high stack of books.

Over the next hour we filled an entire moving box with beautiful books for just $29.00 (!). We picked up beautiful leather-bound copies of Virgil, Frost, Anderson and Hemingway along with newer (almost untouched) copies of Dan Brown, Michael Lewis and Cormac McCarthy. The pretty books complete our living room bookshelves where we can enjoy their beauty and the recent best-sellers reside in the library where they'll become tomorrow's metro/commute entertainment.

But my favorite? It's up in the top corner of the shelf: a reminder of where I found it. And though the spine is rather plain, I think it's the most beautiful of all.

NYC Hallow-eat'n

2011-11-02T16:49:00.000-04:00

Last Saturday we took a quick over-night trip up to NYC with Whitney & Rob and Logan & Janelle to see the sights, and more importantly, eat the eats. Our whole trip, after all, was planned around food.

Early Saturday morning we piled into the family-sized SUV (generously lent to us by Whitney's parents) with a big bag of Trader Joes' treats and high spirits. After making a quick stop at Chez Mac for some hash browns and egg mcmuffins we were on our way.

We may have made a wrong turn that took us trough Philadelphia and we may have gotten caught in a full-blown blizzard, but we adventurers were not discouraged.

Our first stop was Grimaldi's in Brooklyn for the perfect slice. I'd never been to Brooklyn before and was excited to spend some time under the snow-covered Brooklyn bridge. The best part? The horrible weather was fabulously timed: no line at Grimaldi's!

We gobbled a large pepperoni and a large garlic-and-basil and rolled off to SoHo to shop. The miserable weather turned New York into a ghost town. Well, as much of a ghost town as I've ever seen it. Everyone was safely staying indoors. After soaking our clothes freezing our hides off for an hour or so we decided to call it quits and go check into the hotel.

Janelle snagged us a wonderful deal on a nice hotel in Midtown. It was perfectly located, very clean, roomy, and...freezing cold! The heat was broken for the entire hotel! I would have never thought that possible for a nice hotel...but alas. Blake came to our rescue by finagling free hot coco, extra blankets, and a $200 credit to the hotel's restaurant - free of charge to compensate for the frigid temperatures in our rooms. So that night we merrily drank our free hot chocolate and then dined like kings at the buffet the next morning. (Thanks, Blake!)

We spent more time drying off and thawing out after a delicious Mexican dinner at Dos Cominos and then went to sleep fraught with anticipation for the next day, which promised to bring with it more sunshine and less/no snow.

Sunday was chilly, but with clear and sunny skies. We shopped and photographed around the city for several hours before heading to the Brooklyn Flea (a longtime dream of mine) where we, you guessed it, shopped some more.

All this shopping was followed by more eating. Specifically, lunch at Dumont Burger (after unsuccessfully trying to get into Pies n' Thighs...next time!) and then a quick stop at Dewey's before wistfully heading back to DC.

It was a grand (fattening) weekend. Here's photographic proof:

Above: 1. The Adventurers brave the blizzard. 2. A view of the NJ turnpike in the blizzard. 3.A clear, sunny view of the NY skyline on our way to the Brooklyn Flea.

Above: 1. The perfect chocolate bar at Dewey's. I couldn't agree more. 2. Chocolate by the Bald man in Bryant Park. 3. The perfect slice at Grimaldi's under the Brooklyn Bridge. 4, The Adventurers at Dumont Burger in Williamsburg.

Buy your own Beyonce.

2011-11-01T16:41:00.000-04:00

One of my favorite blogs of late is The Bloggess. Yes, she's irreverent, but she's oh so funny.

While we were at the Brooklyn Flea last weekend I couldn't resist taking a photo of these horrific metal donkeys which were somewhat reminiscent of Beyonce on what has become my favorite blog post of all time. Lucky for Blake I bought neither these nor a slew of new towels. In fact, I left completely empty-handed.

However, if I were to buy one I'd buy the red one and name it Melvin. Yes. And Melvin could stand guard by Blake's clubhouse.

Hello, Melvin.

Freeze frame.

2011-10-27T14:29:00.000-04:00

I give myself periodic mental breaks at work throughout the day to calm my frazzled nerves and to keep me sane. I may be working late and working through lunch, but I try to at least get a couple two minute breaks in here or there. I'll read the news, blog surf, blog compose, peruse mental floss for an interesting fact, or type a quick e-mail to a friend.

Today during my quick mental break my computer froze. It froze right when my boss walked in and asked me to look up something for her in a database. And what better photo to freeze on than this:

Perfect. The article, of course, was titled "Best Dressed Penguins" (you can find it here if you're interested in a mental break of your own). How is it that the something that's helping me become un-crazy is also something that make other people think I am crazy. Coincidence? Or irony?

Analytical

2011-10-25T14:32:00.000-04:00

A couple of weeks ago I set up Google Analytics on my blog. This allows me to see who (roughly) is visiting my blog, how much they're visiting, where they're visiting from and the search terms they're using to get here. It's fascinating information.

As it turns out, the most frequently searched term that people are using when they come across my blog is...wait for it...."old lady feet." Yep, that's right, this post garners a large portion of my current readership. Who would have thought I'd become an internet expert in something so important.

Now you may be asking yourself: how does the foremost internet feet guru spend her weekends?

Well, since you're asking, I'll refer you to the photos below.

I spent my time babysitting the cutest, nicest (etc. with all good superlatives) dog, Lucy and taking photos of Lucy alone and with her various canine pals. It just so happened that Logan and Janelle were also dog sitting, so we brought Foxy and Lucy together. It was love at first sniff. Sure, Lucy thought Foxy was a squirrel and spent all evening trying to figure out why the squirrel was feistily batting her in the face with its small paws, but it was still love.

We spent several unsuccessful minutes posing the dogs until we finally got the shot on the left below. Big Lucy next to three-pound Foxy. Gives me the giggles every time I look at it.

At the week's end.

2011-10-21T15:31:00.002-04:00

It's been a really long week. In fact, it's been a really long month. The good news is that I only have 2 weeks left of working 2 jobs. Dominique brought her baby (Dominic) in to the office yesterday to show him off. He is darling. So darling, in fact, that it almost makes me want to tell Dominique that she should take more time to be at home with him. I said almost. I'm not a masochist. So, I'm counting down the days and hours until she returns and I'm back to one boss and one list of things to do.

I posted the below photo on instagram earlier this week with the caption "My office - a great physical representation of my current mental state." And it truly is. I've never felt so jumbled.

Not even chocolate cake for breakfast, pizza for lunch and a diet coke all day in between are doing it for me anymore. I'm in sore need of a relaxing weekend away from this place.

Thank goodness we get to have a weekend play date with Lucy while Rob and Whitney are out of town. We are looking forward to walks in the park and pretending that we have our very own doodle. You can't tell me that her face doesn't make all your stress melt away:

(Photo from Whitney's lovely blog.)

Sock Monkey

2011-10-19T10:05:00.000-04:00

On our way up to Giant the other night to buy the essentials (apple cider and ice cream, of course!) we stopped at a red light and Blake started laughing hysterically. So hard he was almost crying.

I had no idea why, until, through his giggles, Blake pointed out that we were stuck behind and next to two Kia Sorentos. Ahhh, Sock Monkey, I see. Even just the thought of the sock monkey riding the mechanical bull was enough to make Blake laugh uncontrollably.

Never a dull or unhappy moment. That's why he (Blake, not Sock Monkey) is the best.

Cheery Chair

2011-10-11T09:27:00.002-04:00

Blake and I had a restful, fun and productive long weekend. I spent about 20 hours in the yard (for some of the results, hop on over to our house blog) doing fall cleaning, and also finally got around to photographing and uploading some of our latest projects.

So, without further ado, I give you the throne:

I forgot to have Blake take a close-up of the nail-head detailing. It looks really cool (pats-self-on-back). The best part of it is that it came on a long spool and only requires that you nail in every fifth nail-head. They're a pewter color and I think they show off the lines of the chair really well.

The throne is going to permanently reside in the basement, but I haven't wanted to move it down there just yet. I've kept it in our family room (where it doesn't match AT ALL) so that I can look at it just a little longer.

What do you think?

A Golden Throne

2011-10-05T16:58:00.000-04:00

Our neighborhood listserv is a wealth of information and furniture cast-offs. Want to find an honest plumber or a dog sitter? E-mail the list serv. Want to get rid of a cat-pee stained wingback chair? E-mail the list serv.

As I've mentioned before, I like to troll the listserv and our neighborhood streets for free finds. I'd wanted to learn how to re-uphoster a chair for a while, but didn't want to spend much money acquiring the chair (seeing as I'd have to fork it over for fabric and other supplies).

A couple of months ago I hit the jackpot. A neighbor a couple of streets over posted that they'd left a free wingback chair in their front yard for any takers. I took it.

We got it home and looked it over. It was slip covered in a frilly yellow with blue piping. Ugly. And underneath was a thick creamy fabric stained with cat pee and who-knows-what-else. Uglier. In fact, the cushion was so gross that I threw it out alltoghter rather than keeping it to use as a pattern.

I should have taken pictures, but for some reason I never got around to it, so you'll have to take my word for it.

When my mom came to visit we tackled the beast, or as I like to call it, the Throne.

We stripped away all of the old, disgusting, cat-dander infested fabric and batting.

And got it down to the bare bones:

Then we used the old fabric as a template to cut out fabric from the new yellow and grey suzani Blake picked (he has really great taste!). My mom is an engineer and is absolutely meticulous about having things line up exactly right. This is great for me because I'm more of a "we'll see how it goes" sort of crafter. So we agonized over every centimeter of the fabric to make it line up correctly through all of the seems.

With our pieces cut, we began stapling and nailing the fabric to the hardwood frame. My parents got me a staple gun for Christmas last year. It's been invaluable and I consider it to be my version of Blake's power drill. Who says women can't love power tools as much as the next guy?

As we neared completion we were both exhausted (and Blake, too, who we'd enlisted to help with our particularly difficult stapling needs). I now know why people pay hundreds of dollars to have someone else recover their furniture. It's backbreaking and tedious work. But it is so worth it. I've never done a project where I was more suprised at the results. The before and after were shockingliy different.

I am so happy with the way it turned out. But you'll have to wait to see the finished product until I can get Blake to take a photo of it with his fancy camera. The iPhone photo I took doesn't do it justice.

Lockdown: the Georgetown Sequel

2011-09-30T14:41:00.000-04:00

Back in April of the windowless era of Hogan & Hartson I wrote about my woes of the possibility of missing my lunch or dinner plans due to a bomb threat.

Fast forward three + years to an exterior office with windows. And here I am in the new-and-improved era of Georgetown Law sitting at my desk grateful for the fact today's lockdown didn't disturb my lunch plans (Friday is Craft Circle, which is very important you know).

I got the pre-recorded phone message in the middle of a knitted stitch, looked around to see that everyone else was looking at their various electronic devices and comparing notes, thought, "hmm, a man on campus with a rifle, hmm, maybe I should get away from the windows....these booties are cute," and then went back to knitting and eating my cheesy baked macaroni.

And I think I have to agree with my 2008 self. Yes, everything really is about food.

Great Falls

2011-09-28T17:09:00.000-04:00

My Mom was here visiting over the weekend. It had been 9 months since we'd last seen here and it was wonderful to be able to spend time with her (even if it was only 4 short days!).

Our main project was recovering a Queen Anne Wingback chair that I'd snagged from one of our neighbors discard (read: trash) pile a while ago. My Mom is nothing if not industrious and is brilliant at figuring things out - even how to correctly situate patterned fabric on a curved chair so that it all comes out right. In a word, she's amazing.

I'll post pictures of that transformation later. But for now, here's a couple of photos from our visit to Great Falls on Sunday. The weather was unseasonably hot and humid and you can tell from the pictures below that I was also unseasonably hot and humid as a result.

Speaking of Great Falls. I saw one of the best I've ever seen last week. I still get a giggle fit now and again thinking about it. But before I tell you, please make an effort not to judge me. Yes, I'm mean. But it was so funny.

I walked out of the metro last week and saw a girl get ot her vespa and begin to pull away from the bike racks. As she started slowly riding off, I noticed that her sweater was still caught in the bike rack and was unraveling as she went.

Unravelling, unravelling, unravelling, until it hit a snag (or maybe a knot in the fabric). And - I swear this was in slow motion- the snag snagged the girl and pulled her to the ground with her vespa on top of her. It was a situation straight out of the Three Stooges. And here I was thinking that that type of slap-stick situational comedy didn't actually happen in real life.

I wanted to burst out laughing on the spot.

But before you think me totally depraved and indecent, I can assure you that I held my giggle and ran up to her to make sure she was ok. She was fine. Not a scratch on her even. She was, however, extremely embarrassed and a little huffy that I'd asked her if she wanted help in righting her scooter.

Reality TV

2011-09-27T14:17:00.000-04:00

This photo is making the rounds online and I couldn't agree with it more. Though, I'd probably change it to say: "A book commits suicide every time you watch reality TV."

And no, Jeopardy does not count as reality TV.

A reason to pat myself on the back.

2011-09-17T22:05:00.000-04:00

Yesterday on the metro I saw a man pick his eye with his pinky and then eat what he'd found there.

And I thought to myself: I may not be in shape, and I may never do my hair, but at least I'm not eating my own bodily excretions on the metro. I'm doing alright.

The Land of the Living

2011-09-14T12:20:00.001-04:00

I am back in the land of the living (sort of) and back to a mile-high stack of work in the office.

I'm trying to de-stress by periodically looking at photos from our Labor Day weekend at the lake. The first day we were there the weather was perfect for a sunset ski. Lest you get the wrong idea: I do not ski. Blake skis. And I am in charge of the photo-taking (in this case, with Blake's iPod). I'm not one for being dragged behind a machine at high speeds (i.e. I'm a chicken), but it sure is fun to watch a pro.

Bronchitis

2011-09-11T18:42:00.001-04:00

Other than the horrible things - like the constant coughing, the fatigue, and the I-might-be-dying sentiment, there are two definitive perks to having bronchitis:

1. My abs are now rock hard. I've coughed enough to get a great workout and tight abs...just in time for the end of swimsuit season.

2. I made it through my entire "instant queue" on Netflix. I am now very familiar with every classic-novel-turned-movie-or-BBC-miniseries ever made. And after watching so much Jane Austen, at least I could be grateful that I had only bronchitis and not consumption.

Here's to a new week...without any manner of itis.

An Ecological Quandary

2011-09-02T10:36:00.000-04:00

Lately, Georgetown has really stepped up its so-called Green Initiative. I like to think of it as more of a Guilt Initiative.

Three weeks ago they changed the signage on all garbage bins. There are double-bin units all over the place that used to say - discreetly- "garbage" and "recycling." Now those same bins read in big, bold letters, "RECYCLING" and "LANDFILL."

Geeze. That's enough to make me want to wear a nylon stocking over my face to mask my identity every time I throw something in there.

And just when I'm recovering from the guilt at having contributed to the landfill problem and the eventual ecological downfall of our entire planet, I wander into the bathroom where the towel dispenser is stocked with horrible, thin, useless paper towels. The type where you have grab a handful in order to do any true hand-drying.

But three weeks ago, along with the landfill signage, came stickers on every paper towel dispenser that says, authoritatively, "Remember, these come from trees!"

Now, I'm all in favor of saving trees, preserving the rain forests and whatnot, but I also need to have dry hands after I used the restroom at work. I do not want to wipe my hands on my business casual, and I definitely don't want to leave droplets on my keyboard.

Sometimes, when I'm in a really spiteful mood and feeling particularly emotionally manipulated by the Guilt Initiative, I'm tempted to take my large handful of used paper towels out into the hall to throw them specifically into the LANDFILL. But I don't. Because, gosh darn it, the Guilt Initiative actually works.

Everybody's Workin' for the Weekend

2011-08-30T15:11:00.002-04:00

I enjoy rewards. Like a big milkshake on a Friday if I've eaten healthily all week, or a sprite zero break after mowing the front lawn.

But I especially love rewards when they come in the form of a weekend at the lake. The only thing standing between me and Winni is this horrendous first week of classes.

I think I can, I think I can....

25 going on 15

2011-08-25T10:32:00.000-04:00

Just a snippet from the conversation I had with the RCN salesman when I answered my door last night:

Him: "Hi hun, are your Mom or Dad home?"

Me: pause pause. trying to give him the stink eye, but mostly just embarrassed... Ummm. I own this house.

Him: laughing Really?

5.9 on 8.23

2011-08-23T17:31:00.000-04:00

I knew today was going to be an interesting day right after I'd finished my sugar cookie-and-diet coke breakfast. Usually I have granola with yogurt and keep it at that, but today was special. (Any day with free treats is special in my book).

I made it through a large portion of my morning to-do list and headed off to a lunch of leftover pot stickers and rice. After my pot stickers, three sips into my seltzer water, and mid-way in chapter 7 of Cold Sassy Tree, I started to get motion sick. This happens to me more often than I'd like to admit, and I thought it was just the large man that happened to be walking by me at the time. I couldn't believe how hard he was walking. And how much vertigo I was experiencing.

Then he walked away and the booming didn't stop. Then the booming did stop and the swaying started.

Note to future self: when the walls of the office look like jello, don't spend 20 seconds looking around and above you to see what, if anything, could fall on you before hiding under your lunch table. Just hide under your lunch table. Even if it means your slip shows because you're wearing one-of-those dresses today.

Instead of hiding under the desk, I did what any other seasick-stricken person would do and became a lemming and followed the crowds outside.

Georgetown evacuated and shut down its buildings.

So we spent half an hour in the hot sun, vying for shade and listening to the people from California tell us what pansies we all are. Then we got the good news (well, good for me) that those who already had their belongings could leave for the day. Those who didn't have their necessities and/or who had a car parked in the underground garage, were not let back into the building and had to stick around to wait until it was declared safe to enter.

Because I'd been at lunch, I had my purse and quickly left to try to beat the masses to Union Station.

Well, I didn't beat the masses. There was a seething 40-foot-deep wall of humanity surrounding Union Station when I got there. The entrance to the station was closed and not one of the 50 or so police providing crowd control could tell us anything about the state of the metro. Blake reported by phone that the metro was still open, though operating under "Emergency" protocol and not going above 15 mph. Still, they didn't give any information about station closures etc.

So I waited there in the hot sun with 10,000 other sweaty Washingtonians and a street preacher who, carrying a large bible, screamed in my ear that the end is 'nigh and I need to repent.

After 15 minutes or so, I'd had quite enough of the "you're going to hell" business, so I walked back to Georgetown where I could at least sit in the shade with people I knew.

When I did finally make it on the metro an hour later, it was packed cheek-to-cheek and face to sweaty face. You know what though? People were fairly pleasant. I am always impressed at how well people come together when disaster strikes.

A man who works facilities at the White House was standing near me giving some tourists a lengthy and wordy virtual tour of the White House: "so, when you walk in past the situation room and on the way to the oval office, you'll see two Andy Warhol paintings...and I've always thought that in the event of a natural disaster, I'd sneak in and steal those two...and oh, I carved my name in the ceiling next to the stained glass, but I won't tell you what my name is because I don't want to get in any trouble." And, my personal favorite anecdote from the ride: "I was at an inaugural dinner and was seated next to Tom Selleck. We were all drinking red wine and having a good time. But ol' Tom, he tucked the whole table cloth into his shirt when he tucked in his napkin and when he stood up to give a toast, he brought the whole table cloth with him...red wine and all."

In between his verbose stories, two people next to me on the train collapsed from heat exhaustion and had to be dragged off the train and resuscitated.

Good times on the metro. Good times.

I got home to my Blake just 45 minutes before I would have normally gotten home. It was a long, sweaty, foot-blistered afternoon and I've never been happier to be sitting safely on the couch resting my feet with my Blake.

1 week down, 11 to go.

2011-08-22T11:25:00.001-04:00

Georgetown gives 12 weeks paid maternity leave. This is great for my (don't get any ideas here) future, but not so great for my present.

While my colleague is on her much-deserved maternity leave, I'm covering two jobs. Unfortunately for my stress-level, it makes the most sense for me to do so. I know the databases that she works with and am familiar with a lot of her job duties. However, I am now tasked with working with adjuncts and full-time and visiting faculty (think: Lions and Tigers and Bears! Oh My!).

Last week was crazy. Several new and unanticipated projects reared their ugly heads. We made it through the new faculty orientation luncheon that I'd been planning for months. And Jimmy left. It was all such a blur.

I'm trying really hard to stay sane and take it a day at a time. I survived last week (barely) and after sleeping in on Saturday and a three-hour nap yesterday, I think I'm ready to face the week.

Speaking of yesterday. We had a horrific thunder storm. Lighting struck just down the street from us accompanied by thunder so loud that it shook the house and set off all of the car alarms. We watched nature's violence and House Hunters from the comfort of our couch...until that Goliath lighting took out our power for the rest of the afternoon.

But have no fear, staring at a blank TV screen gave me the push I needed to get up and get productive. Productivity in general makes me smile, and I can't help but grin from ear-to-ear when I look at the progress below.

The wall above our couch has been blank for the past (almost) two years since we moved into the house. Wow! Has it really been that long? We've been busily collecting antique maps with a gallery wall in mind. Two weeks ago, when our collection was complete thanks to the Courthouse Flea, we went to pick out frames and matting. Two weeks later, here is the finished product:

In case you were wondering:

Top (left to right): Paris circa 1910, France circa 1871, Rome circa 1910

Bottom (left to right): London circa 1870, Washington DC circa 1890.

There is nothing better than seeing a project come together even better than you'd imagined.

I'll be posting more (real/ non iPhone) photos on our house blog, but for now I'll enjoying looking at this photo every time I get stressed.

Linguistics v. English

2011-08-16T12:12:00.000-04:00

I will never regret getting a degree in Linguistics, but it's times like these when I wish I'd put more emphasis on spelling and less on theoretical syntax.

Old Lady Feet

2011-08-08T12:48:00.000-04:00

Blake and I finally got around to spending some of our birthday money. We purchased ourselves the gift that keeps on giving (or taking, if you're counting personal poundage): running shoes. I haven't had new running shoes in more than five years (don't judge me). My old running shoes should have been retired several years ago and weren't doing my terrible feet any favors.

So, after much research and without further ado, I present to you my newest shoe acquisition: the Asics Gel Foundation.

Check out the description:

Looking for a motion control shoe that can deliver the goods? Well look no further as you have come to the right place. The Foundation 9 is similar to its predecessor with minor updates. With an increased midsole density, the Foundation 9 provides better support and durability for runners. To sweeten the deal, Asics has added a bunion widow to provide the runner with a little extra room. This is the shoe of choice for runners with low to flat arches. You can count on the Foundation 9 to get you though all your daily runs.

Low to flat arches? Check.

Bunion? Check.

Feet of a 75-year-old? Check.

(sigh) They had me at bunion widow.

Taste of Georgetown

2011-08-03T12:52:00.002-04:00

Yesterday was the Georgetown Law staff BBQ. Jimmy and I spent an hour and a half eating to our hearts' content and chatting with some of our fun colleagues. This year's theme was "On the Boardwalk." Complete with ice cream, salt water taffy, mounds of fudge (which, note to caterers, is not the best dessert to serve outside in 95 degree weather), and a photo booth.

In hindsight - and in the sight of the below pictures - it may have been better for me not to eat that extra slab of fudge and the snickers ice cream bar.

Jimmy and I made use of the photo booth. I thought that black-and-white would hide some of my imperfections, but unfortunately it couldn't quite hide the double-chinned frumpiness that was yesterday. Apparently we were supposed to be making silly faces in the first one. I didn't get the memo, and decided to just have chipmunk face. Oh well.

As Jimmy said, "this is the best day of the summer. I just ate for an hour and a half straight!" That's right, Jimmy. Georgetown will miss you, too.

A Case FOR the Mondays.

2011-08-01T14:38:00.001-04:00

My day started off ugly. I woke up late-ish, dropped my phone down the stairs, tipped over my box of toiletries in my closet, trudged sweatily to work in the oppressive heat, and then rolled my desk chair over my big toe as I sat down at my desk.

You could say that things were not looking so good for me.

But then I opened my email and saw an email from Emily Henderson's (yes, the very same Emily Henderson from Secrets from a Stylist!)Media Manager informing me that I'd won the Jane Marvel jet-setter bag that Emily was giving away on her blog.

This is a pretty big deal for me. I've never won anything before. Ever. Never ever. And, as I mentioned above, I wasn't exactly having what I'd call a lucky day.

I felt like standing up and screaming "curse broken! curse broken, people!" (a la Michael Scott in The Office), but instead I called Blake and emoted about the beautiful new purse heading my way - free of charge.

Do Baptists have more fun?

2011-07-29T09:22:00.000-04:00

We walk by this church every morning on our commute. And I always look forward to seeing its entertaining message.

Some of my past favorites have been:

"God answers knee-mail"

and

"Seven days without prayer make one weak"

But the current one isn't too shabby either:

Just adding to the many reasons why we love where we live.

Lessons in Home Ownership

2011-07-28T09:08:00.000-04:00

Lesson #6,571:

When there is 20-year-old rust involved, just hire the plumber. Spend the money and consider it a sunk cost.

Alternatively, you could spend six precious hours of your Saturday hammering, sawing, destroying your skin with chemicals, screaming obscenities, and acquiring an intense back ache.

I'll let you decide.

About how I feel today.

2011-07-22T13:45:00.001-04:00

With the current heat index at 114 (!) I can't go outside for three minutes without becoming a sticky mess.

Confession: our house is a 6 minute walk from the metro. I drove to the metro today.

Don't Mess with Texas

2011-07-20T15:14:00.000-04:00

On Saturday night we helped these lovely folks:

throw a going away party for these lovely folks:

Chris and Maeve are moving to Dallas for business school and we couldn't let them go without having the best (and most delicious) Texas-themed party this side of the Pecos. Parting is bitter, but partying is sweet.

Logan and Janelle hosted in their brand new and beautiful party room. Janelle made the most delicious pulled pork (with root beer no less!) that I have ever tasted.

I was in charge of the desserts...which is pretty dangerous considering I have a serious sweet tooth and don't have a stop-gap when it comes to treats. The sweeter the better. The fattier the better. Mmmm...calories.

You can see the pastry cream parfaits in the left corner of the above photo next to the cupcakes. And, because everyone loves a little food porn now and again: here's a close up of my "lone star" cupcakes.

Janelle came up with a delightful game of pin-the-star-on-Dallas. This was especially exciting for me because Blake had never played pin-the-tail on anything and I had to explain it to him on the way to the party. I was shocked as was Janelle, who asked "what? Was he never six years old?" (side note: I think I played pin-the-tail games at my birthday parties until I was about 14).

As luck would have it, Blake beat me by a long shot and I spent the rest of the night pouting and wishing that I'd told everyone that I hadn't played pin-the-tail before. Oh well, so it goes: Blake wins some, I lose some.

I'm still having a hard time believing that Chris and Maeve are leaving. We've tried our best to talk them into staying...and even considered calling SMU to ask them to create a satellite campus in DC...but no dice. Luckily Dallas is only a short plane ride away and skype is only a short click away. We'll miss you guys!

What exactly is figgy pudding?

2011-07-18T16:50:00.000-04:00

Does anyone know what a figgy pudding actually is? And, if so, how to make one?

I've got about 500 ripe figs that need to be used. And used fast.

Our fig tree was a wee little guy when we moved in a year and a half ago. Now it's a towering two-storey jungle of a tree that we can't cut back fast enough. We pick a big bowl of figgies every day, but it's still not enough. The ones we don't get to in time get eaten by the pesky wildlife (squirrels and birds) and then dropped on the ground to become fodder for the even peskier bees. And I do not like the bees.

When Blake and I were picking figs last week, we accidentally knocked a baby bird out of its nest (disclaimer: we're not masochists...we had no idea there was a nest in the tree, or else we would have been more careful while picking). Blake and Jimmy spent the rest of the evening devising -with the help of google- operation baby bird rescue. They successfully got the little feather-puff back into its nest. It was great news at the time, but now the little puff has been chirping as loud as he can for as much of the day as he can. It's so bad that I'm about ready to go knock him out of his nest again.

Tonight: The Final Showdown

2011-07-15T10:55:00.000-04:00

via LucyLou

I love this. My Blake, my brother and my friends are indulging me tonight and are coming to see the last installment of Harry Potter with me. (Note: I generally refer to the beloved series as "HP" but it makes Blake cringe because of my nerdiness. So, it is for you, my Blake, that I've called it Harry Potter above).

It's hard to believe that I read the first Harry Potter about 13 years ago. Time flies. But I guess I didn't really grow up much in that time. Here I am at 25, writing my 300th blog post, and it happens to be about Harry Potter.

8:30 can't come soon enough. Accio weekend!

Year of the Yard

2011-07-13T10:19:00.000-04:00

You may or may not have seen what we've been doing in the yard lately, but the transformation is coming along nicely. We've got big plans for the next month: a new shed, an arbor, and a slate patio...all good things. But while those things are still in the pipeline, I've really enjoyed reaping the benefits of having a husband with a green thumb.

New Digs

2011-07-13T09:56:00.000-04:00

Due to an increase in hiring and a lack of office space, I now have a corner office for the next year. I'm not quite sure how I got so lucky, but I'm certainly not complaining.

Five windows and my own controllable thermostat. Does it get any better than that?

Some things take me a long time...

2011-07-08T13:43:00.000-04:00

Remember this post from January of 2010?

I claimed then that days of our old dinosaur of a washing machine (age 43) were numbered. After my I-Love-Lucy experience complete with sparks, smoke and a washer bouncing across the flooded basement, I just about threw in the towel.

But, we made Dino last another year and a half. Sure, we may have only been able to wash on cold. Sure, we may have not been able to run more than two loads in a row without risking another explosion. And sure, our whites may not have been as bright nor our clothes as sterilized as the average consumer. But we did it. We made it work.

Then a couple of weeks ago we officially became old and boring. I got a small bonus from work and when we looked at the check we both immediately said: "Pefect! This will cover a new washing machine!" See. We're old. And really boring. But I digress. Back to the main event:

Bye bye, dinosaur:

Hello, my beauty:

This sucker has a 4.0 cubic feet capacity and is, consequently, the new love of my life.

Patriotic

2011-07-06T16:01:00.000-04:00

Wolfeboro celebrates the 4th with fireworks over the bay. We enjoyed them from the boat accompanied by the soft rocking of the waves and the hard clanging of cowbell and horns from the enthusiastic (and drunk?) spectators.

It was 85 and clear all weekend. But now it's back to the harsh reality of 95 degrees, humidity, work, and a dirty house.

We almost didn't come back.

Independence Day

2011-07-03T16:31:00.002-04:00

We're celebrating our holiday up at the lake. Just the two of us.

It's been amazing and the weather is beautiful. I've got the sunburn to prove it.

Cruise: The Final Days

2011-06-29T14:59:00.001-04:00

Our second-to-last stop on the cruise was supposed to be Monte Carlo. Blake and I were really excited because we'd planned to get up early and take a taxi into France to Eze.

We woke up at 7:00 a.m. to a beautiful view....

And then to an announcement from the cruise director saying that due to the choppy conditions, the port authority in Monte Carlo had closed the port. We would not be able to dock that day.

Darn it! I was wondering why the view (although beautiful) was so far in the distance.

To make matters worse, there were no ports in the surrounding area that were allowing cruise ships to dock. So, we had another "fun day at sea." And a fun day at sea is great...except when you're sea sick and getting off the boat is a priority beyond simply seeing the sights.

So we enjoyed the ship. We played mini golf. We swam. We watched the kids go down the water slides. We gorged ourselves on chocolate cakes and cookies. And we enjoyed the magical and balloon-twisting stylings of Mark --one of the ship's entertainers.

I was reminded of the reason that I try to wear at least some sort of make-up on a daily basis: when I don't, I look about 15. Case in point:

(Ahem. I can't believe I'm posting these pictures, but they're sort of entertaining, so there you have it.)

Yes, that's me with a balloon hat. And not just any balloon hat. A penguin balloon hat. I was the envy of all the other kids.

Mark thought I was also one of Blake's nieces. And because he'd just learned that we were Mormon, I didn't want to give him any "Mormon child bride" fodder, so I just kept my mouth shut and let him twist me a penguin.

Later that day, for some reason that shall remain unsaid (cough, Blake's Dad told them where our room was, cough cough), all 6 kiddos showed up in our room to jump on our bed. It turned into a bit of a mess, but I think that it helps us maintain our title of "the super cool aunt and uncle."

Friendly Neighborhood Farmers Market

2011-06-24T16:04:00.002-04:00

Little Red is about a block away from a farmers market that runs weekly from April through November. I try to take advantage of it every Saturday morning and I make sure to save up my cash so that I can buy more than just a quarter pound of asparagus (yes, I actually did ask them to weight that out once...I only had change from my change jar...whoops).

I like supporting local farmers and it doesn't hurt that it's chemical-free...or that it's about half the price of what I'd otherwise pay for organic fare at Whole ~~Paycheck~~ Foods.

What this picture doesn't show: homemade breads, pies and pastured-cow cheese. Piles of gorgeous asparagus. Heaps of bright-colored zucchini. The annual kids bike race currently making its way towards me on the path.

What this picture does show: I don't shower on Saturdays. I have very flat feet. Even though I live in Maryland, Virginia is still for lovers. Picking out jam requires intense concentration (and a double chin?).

Speaking of Pisa...

2011-06-23T16:27:00.000-04:00

...check out the Tuscan oil paintings we scored from an artist we met at a flea market there.

It took about 40 minutes of haggling for Blake to agree to a fair price. I might add that I spent that 40 minutes periodically wondering off so that the desperation and art-lust would not show on my face. I am a haggling pansy. Blake never pays full price for anything. I will generally haggle for a couple of minutes and then decide that I'm done and that "painting (or insert other milieu here) is their livelihood...I should just pay what we've currently arrived at and be on my way....it's only fair..." See. I'm a pansy.

The solution to my pansy-hood is that I leave when Blake haggles. And we always end up paying significantly less than if I had been in charge. So it's a good solution if you ask me.

Fantastical Fanatical

2011-06-23T09:06:00.000-04:00

I saw this while making the cyber rounds this morning. I kind of want to have it printed a framed for my house. Or, have a wallet sized copy that I can pull out and show Blake any time I'm starting to feel grumpy. He knows as well as anyone that sometimes ice cream is the only fix.

Pisa: Day 10

2011-06-21T12:43:00.000-04:00

After a late-start morning, we decided to take a quick train ride over to Pisa from Livorno (the port where we docked). We had planned to do Pisa and Lucca all in one day, but ended up staying in Pisa for most of the day.

Pisa is one of the cities I was most surprised by. Every tour guide book says that Pisa is un-charming, but I found it to be the opposite. We had great weather. The city was clean. There were great farmers' markets to walk through, and the tower itself was really fun to see. It's amazing to me that the thing is still standing, actually. The photos below don't quite capture the extreme angle of the tower.

We took it easy all afternoon and played on the grass with all of the kiddos. I had a great time trying to show them how to take photos where it looked like we were holding up the tower. I don't think they quite understood the perspective lesson I was trying to teach them. This is quite obvious from the photo below. Yep, not quite right, but fun nonetheless.

I did end up taking some pretty hilarious pictures of the kids hugging, kissing, hitting, and leaning against the tower.

I think this one of Ella (4) is particularly entertaining. Doesn't she look like she's been photoshopped in?

This one of Morgan (10) is also pretty fun:

And here I am looking concerned (that's got to be the reason for my double chin, right?) as I reviewed the day's photos:

The moral of the story here is: go to Pisa, folks. Disregard what the tour books say and go anyway. It's a great place to relax and do some no-hassle sight-seeing.

Dumpster diving.

2011-06-16T16:15:00.000-04:00

I am a deal seeker.

Stick it to Corporate America. Get a good deal. That's my motto.

But as good as sales are (and as morally superior as they make me feel), I've found something even better:

Dumpster Diving.

Now, don't get disgusted with me quite yet. I'm not talking about hoisting myself up and over the grimy edges of the metal dumpster behind the Walmart. I have (so far) too much dignity for that.

I mean dumpster diving in the sense of going through other peoples' trash.

I feel no remorse or self-disgust for that. And my home is profiting from it.

It all started when we lived in Arlington. There was always a pile of other peoples' junk outside of one of the blocks of apartments in our neighborhood. And usually it was just junk. But once in a while it was really good junk. And one time in particular it was really great junk. So we took action.

We saw an old turn-of-the-century steamer trunk that looked dilapidated but fixable. So I stood guard while Blake ran home to get the car. We then packed it into the trunk as much as it would fit and drove slowly home. We got some looks, but we didn't care. We knew we had a treasure.

So we bought a 3 dollar package of sand paper, got out an exacto knife, and got to work. The burlap we pulled off released puffs of black grime (kinda of gross to do inside our tiny apartment...oh well...live and learn) and we spent the day sneezing. But, after an hour or so of work, we had a beauty on our hands. I did some research and it looks like our trunk was from 1910 and could be worth quite a bit of money. Score!

Fast forward 9 months. (Gestational period for an exceptional dumpster find?)

My neighbors were getting rid of a funky mid-century office chair. You know, the kind that is covered in bright vinyl and looks like it belongs in Mad Men? I was in love. And so I did what any other scavenger would do. I waited until the cover of darkness, put on my quietest shoes, crept over and wheeled the sucker home. Note: Our handicapped accessible entry way comes in especially handy in situations like these.

That chair is now at my sewing desk, which is temprorarily my brother's desk in his make-shift room in the basement.

Our next find was about 9 months later. Blake and I snagged this console table from our neighbors down the street and lugged it home between the two of us. Then last week I found a bunch of stackable plastic storage shelves that I'm now using for our basement storage. It's been a very fruitful summer.

At this point Blake is pretty used to my asking to "pull over!" at any given time...and trying not to be too embarassed as I look through our neighbors' trash in the glare of the headlights.

Rome: Day 9

2011-06-13T16:51:00.000-04:00

By the time we got to Rome I was finally starting to feel like I was back in the land of the living.

It was perfect timing because we did Rome at a break-neck pace and saw everything. Feeling better made everything seem even fresher and more beautiful.

Rome was, for me, the most surprising city that we toured. For some reason I've never been interested in seeing Rome. When my friends and I did Italy for our spring break back in '06, we skipped Rome entirely. And I didn't feel jilted, either.

Well, all I can say is that I now understand why people think of Rome as one of the most beautiful cities in the world. Granted, nothing can compare to Paris in my opinion, but shockingly Rome comes pretty darn close.

After the dirty and graffiti-covered cities of the south, Rome was sparkling clean. I was shocked (you'll probably hear that a lot while I talk about Rome, so I'll tell you now just to get used to that word) at how clean the city was. There wasn't a massive amount of garbage on the streets. The buildings all looked like they had just been scrubbed clean. Graffiti was fairly minimal. And maybe I was just caught up in the spirit of things, but I didn't even seem to notice the piles of cigarette buts that adorn most European gutters.

We hired a couple of drivers (who had been referred to us by our drivers in Naples) and they took us on a fabulous whirl-wind tour of the city. They knew exactly where to go. Exactly when to go to miss the lines. And exactly how to get there. It was a magical day.

Here we are at our first stop in the center of the high-rent district.

Our drivers, Mario and Pino, knew exactly where to take us for the best photo-ops. Here's the whole gang in front of the Colosseum (all 16 of us!) to prove it.

And here's our little family of two in front of the Colosseum. Wow, my legs are shockingly (see! I told you!) white.

I was prepared to throw a coin into the Trevi Fountain. But as I walked up to the edge to throw in one centime, I found a 50 centime coin on the ground. I picked it up and decided that it was fortuitous and that it meant that I should spend my centimes on gelato and not on the questionable wishing power of the fountain.

Oh, and don't be fooled by our seemingly peaceful photos by the fountain. We were able to catch probably the only angle that didn't show exactly how crowded this place was. It was one seething mass of humanity. We were taking our lives into our own hands going close to the fountain (not only dodging the crowds, but also the constant rain of small coins from all sides).

We went to the "best gelato place in all of Rome" just outside the Vatican.

It was amazing.

I maintained my gelato status quo and went back for seconds. Don't judge.

After our rejuvenating gelato, we got dropped at the front of the line to see the Vatican. I then shared my first experience with the Sistine Chapel with about a thousand other sweaty tourists. Magical (and stinky).

Blake snuck a picture of the ceiling, but I'm worried that if I post it we'll get in trouble. Kidding. But it was a little blurry with all the jostling. So, do a little googling and get yourself a first class photo online.

I don't love the photo of me below, but it's great of Blake, so there you have it. Saint Peters was incredible. I loved the guilted ceilings and seeing the Pieta in person.

I find it so interesting to compare the religious architecture in France with that in Italy. The French concentrate much more on the windows and the use of stained glass. The Italians seem to concentrate much more on the artwork and the gold inlay and less on the windows. It's such a fascinating contrast.

Before we left Rome for the ship, we stopped and looked over the city at one of Rome's seven famous hills.

The view was unbelievable and it was a great way to bid arrivederci to the eternal city.

Maybe I should have tossed that coin into the fountain after all. I'm already wishing I could go back.

A Social June

2011-06-13T12:37:00.000-04:00

I had every intention of wrapping up the travelogue in May, but (a word that is a procrastinator's best friend) June has been a busy month so far.

Last week found me attending or planning:

Two farewell parties.
Two baby showers.
A baptism.
A family dinner.
A bridal shower.

I'm glad for a little break this week. Maybe I'll be able to finish my cruise review and even catch up on my housework. Those dust bunnies and hair tumbleweeds certainly aren't vacuuming themselves...

Napoli and Pompeii: Day 8

2011-06-01T16:36:00.001-04:00

The day we went to Pompeii was probably the day I felt the worst, which is perfect because Pompeii requires a ton of walking.

But, you know what they say, when life gives you lemons the size of cantaloupes (such as the ones below that we saw in Naples), make lemonade....or sally forth into the tourist-filled depths of an ancient city.

Naples itself was interesting, but very VERY dirty. The city government had recently changed and the garbage men were staging an increasingly stinky strike. There were huge piles of fermenting, fly-ridden garbage lining every street. Needless to say, other than a much-needed stop for Bacio gelato, we didn't spend much time there and opted instead to spend the day in Pompeii.

One of the things I loved most about Pompeii was the plethora of red and orange poppies coming up from every nook and cranny. There was just something about the juxtaposition of the ancient grey rubble and the bright, cheerful flowers that I found really beautiful. Plus, if you've ever seen my kitchen, you know that I love red poppies.

Blake humored me and took pictures of the poppies everywhere we went. I'm dying to have some of his poppy photos framed for our basement.

We wandered through the town all day and ended up at the large amphitheater or colosseum. In places like this, I am always in awe of what was accomplished architecturally without the help of modern power tools. I guess slaves/prisoners of war/neighboring tribes/low castes were the ancient equivalent of modern power tools.

Here we are in the town center in front of an ancient Starbucks....what?, no, I actually can't remember what we were standing in front of at the time, but I got your attention there didn't I?

Of all of the plaster casts of people who died in Pompeii, I found this one the most heart-wrenching. This man crouched down and tried to cover his nose and mouth so he could breath. How terrifying that eruption must have been!

Again, it's amazing what was achieved by man-power alone. Look at the size and detail of these columns.

I was joking above about Starbucks, but here is the ancient equivalent of a fast food joint.

Sicily/Messina: Day 7

2011-05-27T16:58:00.000-04:00

Messina (a port town on the island of Sicily) is home to the world's oldest astronomical clock. At 12:00, the gilded figures come to life. The rooster crows, the lions roar, and the saints rejoice in Christ's Resurrection. We spent about half an hour milling through Italian teenagers and bedraggled tourists in the square in front of the church, and then watched the 10-minute show.

Here is my Blake in front of the sculpted duomo doors. They reminded me a lot of the baptism doors at the duomo in Florence...or Rodin's Gates of Hell.

By this time I figured that I may as well just eat whatever I wanted because eating tons of fruit and veggies was not helping me to get better any faster. So. We ate gelato for lunch . I had four scoops (I went back to the store twice) and developed a new passion for the flavor called Bacio. Makes me salivate just thinking about it.

We spent the rest of the afternoon slowly winding our way through the tiny, graffiti-covered streets up to the highest point of the city. We both got a kick out of the fact that the most prominent feature in the landscape and/or cityscape was our cruise ship. Look at that monster!

Burgled

2011-05-24T16:19:00.001-04:00

Sometime between my Sunday night CVS run and my Monday evening Giant run, our card was burgled.

I say "burgled" rather than "burglarized" because it sounds more leisurely, and it appears that our perpetrator took a leisurely approach to his theft.

He (well, let's not discriminate, it could just as well have been a she-burglar) jimmied the door open, sat down in the passenger seat, and proceeded to go through all of the possible hiding spots: the glove box, the center console, and the front console. He took our beloved Garmin (affectionately know as "Garmie") and all of our spare change.

He/she did not, however, take any of our CDs. Instead of swiping the whole CD case and looking through it in the safety of his/her own home, our burglar sat in the front seat, opened the CD case, and went through all of the CDs individually. It would appear that we have terrible taste in music because not a single one was gone when we looked through them last night.

Punk kid. Wouldn't know good music if it punched him/her in the face.

After carefully removing every last penny of the approximately $1.71 we had stashed in the center coin organizer, he/she ended his/her burgle, kindly re-locked the car, and left.

When we called the police to make our report, the officer told us to file an online report and asked "well, do you know who it was?". Um, no sir, that's where you come in. Seriously? What exactly are my taxes paying for ...

At Sea Again: Day 6

2011-05-23T15:35:00.002-04:00

Dinner on board every night was quite the affair. Because we were a party of 16, we lucked out with our dinner table locale. We had a huge table at the back of the boat with a panoramic view. We had three waiters and three courses every night. If it weren't for the sea sickness I would have gained some serious poundage.

Here we all are pulling out of Dubrovnik (not really day six...whoops).

You'll notice that my plate looks empty while everyone elses' plates are still full. Blake and I laughed at this while we were scanning through our photos and chalked it up to my family specialty: eating fast. (A friend from my paralegal days once looked up at me after she'd taken her second bite and saw that I'd finished my whole sandwich. "Did you even chew?!" she gawked. Yes, yes did. Barely.) What can I say? I am my father's daughter.

Anyhow, just to clear this all up, I'll have you know that I did not -in fact- clear my plate before the others even started. I blew the picture up really large to investigate....and...it turns out that I had an alfredo pasta which was essentially as white as the plate, making it appear that I'd licked the dish clean. You'd think I'd have remembered this as the cruise was not very long ago, but as I'd mentioned before, the sickness I had caused a temporary paralysis of my memory (read: entire brain) and I remember a very limited number of details.

Here we are on the real day 6 after our "formal night" dinner. Neither of us went very formal. I even opted out of wearing any make-up (ok, so that was more of a sickness-induced accidental forgetfulness than an opt-out, but there you have it).

In my sickness-induced stupor, one of my favorite things was to sit on our balcony and watch the sea go by. The Adriatic (and later the Mediterranean) is so beautiful.

The Finale

2011-05-20T09:26:00.000-04:00

Blake and I watched the season finale of The Office last night. When the credits came up, Blake was still glued to the screen.

"But John Kerry never came on!"

me: "John Kerry? Why? Was he supposed to be on tonight?"

"Well, didn't you just say that John Kerry would be on the finale?"

me: "No, Blake. I said Jim Carrey would be on tonight."

And that's how I can tell that Blake is still sick. Poor guy.

Dubrovnik: Day 5

2011-05-19T15:41:00.007-04:00

Croatia has been at the top of my "must travel" list for some years now. So, I wasn't about to miss out due to a silly little (read: horrible, near-death) cold. Luckily the port was only 10 minutes from the old town, so I roused myself out of bed to go.

It was drizzly and cold (and had a little bit of the Venice "Disney-land-for-adults" feel), but it was still gorgeous. Blake kindly took the day at my snails' pace and we wandered the old town for several of wet and muggy hours before heading back to the ship to sleep it off.

Old town Dubrovnik is tiny, but it packs a punch. There is no space on the winding streets for cars, and there are impossibly steep and narrow stairs everywhere. Combine that with the rain, and it probably wasn't a good idea to do while sick, but hey, it's not every day you're in Croatia, right? Carpe diem, I say!

We took a break in the town square with a cup of delicious and rich hot coco. Due to the exchange rate (and the fact that the cafe didn't post prices - making it impossible to determine in advance how much we'd be paying) the coco was something like $15.00 for the two of us. But it was so worth it. We took it easy for a while, watched the passers-by and escaped the drizzle. We even learned how to "thank you" in Croatian: hvala (pronounced "chwala"), which brought joy to my nerdy linguist heart.

We started walking around the city wall in the harbour, but didn't make it very far. The photo below makes it look all calm and un-assuming, but don't let that fool you like it fooled us. The waves around the corner were so high and so violent that they were crashing up over the walking path. We didn't dare brave it, so we stayed on the protected side.

This is a view from the old town harbour up to the newer part of the city:

And here's a photo of my Blake with old town in the background. A sick/coughing/sniffly wife, rain, and soggy shoes and he's still happy. What a guy!

Here I am perusing the map of old town to make sure we'd seen it all.

And here we are in the harbour trying to look as dry and presentable as possible.

Note: the mis-matching purple scarf has a purpose. I wore that constantly so that I could cough into that instead of into my hands (or into the hairdos of the unsuspecting persons walking in front of us). Ingenious!

At Sea: Day 4

2011-05-19T10:55:00.000-04:00

There's not much to tell here (and thankfully for me, no pictures). Other than occasionally making making it to our balcony to watch the Adriatic roll by, I spent all day laying lead-like in bed.

Blake was a gem and brought me soup and bread periodically and our steward kept to me up to my ears in tissues (he had also learned my name by then, and would occasionally call through the door "Rachel??? Are you ok????" Such a nice guy). I also learned a great deal about the royal wedding couture and Osama's demise. (There were six channels on the boat, four of which were international news channels.)

Thank goodness for a recovery day.

Venice: Day 3

2011-05-18T16:52:00.001-04:00

Blake's (30th!) birthday started early. A 5:00 a.m. wake-up called followed by a 7:00 a.m. flight from Orly to Marco Polo. (How cool is it that he had his 30th birthday in Paris AND Venice...be jealous!) I would have been tired on the best of days.

But it was not the best of days. And after pressurizing and de-pressurizing in the plane, my head felt like a boulder that I was trying to balance on my shoulders. I say this not to complain, but merely to give you a good reason why I'm not sharing photos of myself from that day. Boy howdy! They are not pretty.

But my Blake, the Birthday Boy, was looking pretty (pretty handsome) as usual.

Exhibit A:

Exhibit B:

I've had mixed feelings about Venice ever since I went there on Spring Break during my study abroad. It's a beautiful city, no doubt, but it feels a bit like an adult version of Disney World. Nothing is real. It's no longer a functioning city. No one actually lives or works in Venice (outside of selling tschotskes and expensive gelato). It's just a tourist trap. Albeit a beautiful tourist trap.

It's a perfect place to go for a day trip. You can see everything you need to see in one day and then move on to another Italian city where you won't be so badly ripped off.

So, it worked out perfectly that we were only there for the day. We got in early, took the vaporetto into town, spent several hours sight-seeing (or in my case, a couple hours trudging around followed by a couple hours sitting in St. Mark's square trying to get my ears to pop), and then took the vaporetto again to get to the cruise ship.

Blake took some fabulous shots around the city. I particularly like this one:

The week before the cruise, I had promised my niece, Ella (4), that we would be "cruise buddies." Much to her chagrin, I wasn't much of a cruise buddy because I didn't want to get too close and get her sick.

We made do by playing a game of giant chess onboard the ship that afternoon. And by playing chess, I mean that she ran around knocking down the huge pieces, laughing hysterically while I up-righted them again. (Now that I think about it, I guess I was just leaving my germs strewn about for the next unsuspecting giant chess victims. Oh well.)

Notice my arm bands in the photo. No, they are not a fashion statement. Yes, they are acupuncture point wrist bands that aid with preventing sea sickness. I failed to mention above that about 10 minutes after getting on the ship, I was curled up in a ball on the bed, unable to move, absolutely green at the gills with sea sickness. Perfect. Seasickness, sinus pressure, un-popped ears and a cough. A great way to start a cruise.

Blake's brother, Kirk, came to my rescue when he pulled out an extra pair of the wrist bands. I was skeptical at first, but they really helped. I still felt dizzy for most of the time I was on the boat, but I was able to --you know-- keep things under control. Thank goodness for Kirk. He really saved the day.

Did I mention that the cruise ship was brand new? We were on the maiden voyage and took a certain pleasure knowing that we were the "first ones to sit in this chair," "first one to go down the water slides," (I just watched) and most importantly, "first person to use this ultra-clean and sparkly bathroom."

Here's the view while we were docked in Venice:

And here's the view of Venice as we sailed away:

It's almost heartbreakingly beautiful, isn't it?

Paris: Day 2.

2011-05-16T12:58:00.001-04:00

At 12:51 p.m. I woke up with that pannickly feeling. I had a sore through, itcy eyes, a clogged nose, a headache. No! No, I will not get sick while I'm here in my favorite place with my favorite person.

I took a steaming hot shower. I took sudafed (from my emergency suply kit that I put together thinking I'd never use it -- joke's on me. I used every single thing I brought. Bad karma.). I used up our whole box of tissues blowing my nose. I went back to sleep propped up in sitting position against the headboard.

I did everything I could think of. But to no avail.

By 8:00 a.m. I was down for the count. I could barely move, let alone carry out our plan of heading out into the city for a long day of sight-seeing. I was so depressed that I could hardly think straight. There I was. In Paris. In Paris with my Blake. And I was sicker than I'd been in several years.

I periodically shook my fist at the heavens (and at the memory of the woman coughing in front of me on the plane)...but again, to no avail.

At 1:00 p.m. I finally forced myself out of bed. And as much as it hurt my I-know-this-city-so-well-that-I AM NOT- a-tourist pride, we took a bus tour around the city all afternoon so we could at least see it. So we sat in the open air looking at my city go by while I cried uncontrollably on the inside (real crying is not condusive to a sinus infection).

Blake was such a good sport the whole time. I was too tired to get out most places, and so he stayed with me on the bus.

Luckily, the sinus gods did give me some brief relief now and again. And with the help of many drugs, we were mostly able to see what we wanted to see.

Again, please don't judge me in the photos. Whereas Blake looks as delightful as always, I look sick as a dog. Oh well. Can't have everything, I suppose.

We made a quick stop at Notre Dame while the sun was shining.

Quick note: you see that purse on the left that looks unattended? It's mine. But don't worry, it wasn't unattended...Blake's parents were keeping an eye on it for photo-taking purposes.

I took exactly 7 photos during our whole trip, which is a bummer because Blake gave me a really cool point-and-shoot for Christmas. I was just too tired to open up my bag, pull out the camera, and hold it up for any amount of time. Add to that the drug-induced stupor I was in for most of the trip, and I would have almost no memory of most days. Luckily Blake is much more talented that I am in the photography (and memory) department and he took scads of gorgeous photos on his new camera. What would I do without him?

I especially love his below shot of the Eiffel Tower. It's so unusual and I love the contrast of the red elevators with the grey/brown iron.

I was determined to take Blake out for a birthday-eve celebration. I'd planned it all out in my mind: a fabulous french dinner with never-again-to-be-matched dessert, a walk on the banks of the Seine, and a night river boat ride.

Alas, it was not to be.

We managed the fabulous french dinner part, but due to my "condition" were unable to continue the evening. Poor Blake. It's not every day that you turn 30 in Paris. What a bummer when you have to deal with a sick wife.

Blake picked this lovely cafe on the Boulevard Richard Lenoir and we had an amazing salmon dinner with chocolate mousse and tarte citronne for dessert. Yum. I'm still salivating over that salmon.

Paris, I miss you already. Can we come back and do it all over again now that I'm feeling better?

Visited

2011-05-13T14:29:00.000-04:00

visited 29 states (58%)

Create your own visited map of The United States

visited 20 countries (8.88%)

Create your own visited map of The World

So many places to go. So little time (and money)!

Travel and day 1.5.

2011-05-12T14:32:00.003-04:00

Our travel day started off well. Really well. Both of us decided to take the morning off so that we could sleep in, exercise, and finish up some last minute preparation. So we did just that. We slept in. We took a walk around the neighborhood to see the azaleas. Blake worked and I cleaned the whole house.

The day peaked at 11:15 a.m. and went downhill from there. We left our house at 11:30 to walk to the metro, to get to the bus, to get to the airport (did you get all that?). At 11:31 the skies opened up and it poured. We had umbrellas, but our luggage was still soaked by the time our 6 minute walk to the metro was over.

We got to the airport - wet luggage and all - on time and had just about the easiest check in experience I've ever had.

But, as it turns out, it was too easy.

After getting lunch at potbelly (I especially love eating Potbelly at the airport because their prices are the same as the outside world...hooray!) and sitting around waiting for our delayed flight for a couple hours, I noticed that there was a group congregating around the gate. It didn't look like they were about to board, so we went to check it out.

With no prior announcement our flight had been cancelled. The terrific storm moving through New York at the time cancelled all incoming and outgoing flights from JFK. Perfect. Because we had planned to connect through JFK to Charles de Gaulle, both of our flights were cancelled.

We ran back to the ticketing gate to beat the rush and spent the next 45 minutes finagling the last two seats on another airline that would leave late that night, and connect us through Heathrow rather than JFK.

There was no way we wanted to get back on the bus to the metro to walk to our house with all our luggage, so we tried to entertain ourselves at the airport for another nine hours. We read, we ate, we walked, we coveted the girl scout cookies that the deploying soldiers were receiving in their care packages. Blake spent some time calling the vending machine company to argue back the dollar the machine had stolen from him. (Incidentally, the did end up sending him a dollar in the mail this week. Not a check. But a lone dollar bill. Go figure.)

When we finally got on our flight (that had been delayed yet again) that night, we were exhausted. I made it through the in-flight meal and about half of the Voyage of the Dawn Treader before I dropped into an uncomfortable, though satisfying, sleep...punctuated only by the hacking cough of the woman in front of me.

Not only was our flight delayed on our end, it was also delayed coming into Heathrow because they'd shut down a large portion of the airport. We finally landed and were immediately given "fast passes" to get us through security and boarder patrol quickly to make our connecting flight. These fast passes only helped so much. You see, we had landed just as the Royal Wedding was starting. And as that started, Heathrow stopped. Everyone was glued to to the TV screens and we had run, pushing our way through the masses of on-lookers, while they said their I-Dos. Those darn royals almost cost us our flight to Paris.

Now I can tell all my friends that I was in London for the Royal Wedding.

But after all of that (plus the train to the metro to the hotel) we made it to Paris for day 1.5 of our European adventure. It had been 5 years since I'd been back, but it almost felt like I'd never left. Our first stop after dropping off our bags was the FranPrix to snag some tabbouleh, baguettes, and brie. Be still my heart. I dream of that lunch constantly.

We walked a couple of blocks and ate our lunch at the Places des Vosges with Blake's parents.

Don't look too closely. I don't want you to see how tired and bedraggled we look.

We walked around my old stomping grounds....

..... and stopped by my school on the Rue St. Merri.

We also stopped by a couple of my other favorite haunts in the quatrième:

Amorino (where they shape the scoop into a rose)...

..and Le Gay Choc (where the pastries are shaped like pastries, except for their specialities on the weekend when some are shaped well....to give you a Gay Shock let's just say).

We also started Blake's pre-birthday celebration that night by going out to a fabulous seafood restaurant with his parents. It's not every day you turn 30, and it certainly deserves several or more days of gastronomical celebration.

Pitch and Stitch

2011-05-11T14:31:00.001-04:00

Tomorrow I'll begin my recap of all of our European adventures. It's been a while since I've used the Internet, and we need to get re-acquainted.

So before I bog you all down with a lengthy travelogue, I'll leave you with some really good advice. Well, not it's so much advice as it is a plan to make your Friday the 13th a glorious-not-gloomy day: http://loopedyarnworks.com/blog/stitch-n-pitch/.

See you there, crafters!

That's Good Stuff.

2011-04-26T14:25:00.000-04:00

I feel like we spend a lot of time eating when we have guests in town. Or, if not eating, then figuring out where we're going to eat next or how many different restaurants we can fit into one day (breakfast, lunch, dinner, dessert....midnight snack?).

So when my cousin Glenn came down from Cornell a couple of weeks ago, we practically gorged ourselves every day. I had to remind myself that I was not, in fact, on vacation, and that I should at least try to stick to my normal food intake. Even with my internal checks-and-balances reminder system, I still ended up feeling uncomfortably full for almost the whole weekend.

I mean, look at those piles of trash in front of us in the photos below. Man, that was Good Stuff. Literally.

I got the toasted marshmallow shake for the first time. It was (ahem) too overwhelmingly sweet for me. I know, blasphemy. I can usually handle my sweets, but this was just too much. I had to have Glenn finish it for me.

What I'm really trying to say is: come visit us. You'd like it. But be sure to be gastronomically prepared for a food marathon.

Just a little homeless.

2011-04-25T19:49:00.000-04:00

Late this past fall we painted our newly windowed and air conditioned den. These are my painting shorts.

They started out as painting pants last winter. But then I painted in the spring, got too hot, and took scissors to them (while wearing them, I might add) to turn them into jagged capris. Then, I painted in the summer and they evolved (again, while wearing them) into the shorts you see here.

I had a bit of a problem when it got chilly again and I had another painting project to do.

Enter the fuzzy socks + slippers. A combination made in cold-footed heaven and the reason I'm posting this less than attractive photo of myself.

Blake got such a kick out of my fluffy footies that he followed me around the house all evening trying to take paparazzi photos of me in my fuzzy-socked glory. At the time I saw this footwear as the best solution. Now, looking at the photo, I agree with Blake. It is a sartorial malfunction.

I Love DC in the Springtime.

2011-04-19T15:55:00.000-04:00

Our choke cherry tree is blooming in all its pink, puffy, heaven-scented glory. It blooms later in the season than most others. So, after the downtown blossoms have faded, we get to enjoy these right outside our front door. The best part? No tourists.

I should give credit where credit is due: Blake has humored me in taking lots of pictures of our yard and home with his new snazzy camera. I'll have him post more photos on our house blog when he has a moment. You'll be impressed with all of the work he's done in the front yard (our fall sidewalk replacement took a real toll on our front lawn) and with the beautiful trees, bushes and flowers that are colorfully popping out all over our yard. The azaleas and hydrangeas are almost here, and we've already started enjoying our mass of lilacs.

Add that to the hundreds of double cherrys, dogwoods, rhododendrons, tulips, daffodils and other flowers in our neighborhood, and we've got one of the most pleasant and beautiful evening walks we could ask for.

Goût Français

2011-04-18T15:47:00.001-04:00

I bought a large bag of lemons on sale a couple of weeks ago, and didn't end up using as many as I thought I would for salad dressings and drinks. A couple minutes on the google machine and I'd found my lemon surplus solution:

French lemon curd.

Theses miraculously tasted exactly the same as they do in France. I doubled the recipe, but it still wasn't enough. We went through one large tarte and a whole platter of mini tartes au citron in two days.

I think I've found my new obsession.

Thursday lunch productivity.

2011-04-13T10:26:00.000-04:00

Like I've said before, craft circle is really fun. I get to learn a new skill, eat lunch, and listen to heated debates about knitting v. crochet and cats v. dogs. Now that I'm getting the hang of this whole knitting thing, I've branched out of the 2 dimensional / rectangular scarf realm and into the world of 3 dimensional oh-so-cute baby booties.

This has recently turned out to be a surprisingly useful hobby. Is it just me, or are about a-million-and-seven of my friends pregnant right now? Well, the jig is up. You're all getting booties.

An Open Letter

2011-04-08T10:11:00.000-04:00

Dear Mr. Senate Majority Leader and Mr. Speaker of the House,

I would like it if you allowed my Blake to keep his job and his salary.

Please stop bickering like petulent children and come to some sort of agreement. You're beginning to make me feel very unpatriotic.

Signed,
I'm All For Cutting Government Spending, But There's Got To Be A Better Way

I promise I vacuum on a regular basis...

2011-04-06T10:24:00.000-04:00

I shed. I shed a lot.

And every time a hair tumbleweed blows aimlessly across our hardwood floors Blake says, "look! Another one of your hair friends!"

Experimenting with HTML

2011-04-01T11:22:00.000-04:00

I'm starting to experiment with html a bit. I'm sick of the way my photos look against the grey-blue background, so I've changed it to a cleaner, crisper white. Technology makes my impatience/ need for change a little easier. Instead of chopping my hair or re-arranging the living room, all I have to do is manipulate my blog background color.

What do you think?

Nun ya business.

2011-03-29T16:04:00.000-04:00

Just in case I needed one more reason to love where I work...

I just spent the last 15 minutes discussing NCAA basketball, ESPN brackets, and the final four with our resident nun. Nun's can have fun, too, you know.

iBlake

2011-03-27T20:56:00.000-04:00

For the last two nights I've been lulled to sleep by the happy tip tip tapping of Blake on his new iPhone.

Luckily for me I can sleep through anything...even Angry Birds.

The General Store

2011-03-24T15:42:00.001-04:00

I just found out that a restaurant in our neighborhood, The General Store, is closing its doors.

This is sad to me for two reasons:

A. I really wanted to try some of their world-famous pie.

B. I have good memories (ok, good memory singular) there.

Several months ago I needed gum real bad. REAL Bad. But I was too lazy to drive to Giant or CVS (7 minutes away from our house), and the gas stations by our house don't have convenience stores, so I suggested to Blake, "Hey, let's try that General Store in our neighborhood. I bet they have random convenience store things. It is, after all, a general store, right?"

And so I walked in like a woman on a mission. Like I said, I needed my gum fix.

I noticed the people sitting at the tables with menus, and the man hovering by me that looked suspiciously like a waiter, but I kept going. I walked all the way to the back of the buildling, through several rooms, and past numerous tables. And. No gum.

Then the man who looked suspiciously like a waiter jogged after me and asked me if I would like a table. That's when my suspicions were confirmed. This was, in fact, a restaurant and not a general store as advertised.

I contemplated ordering some pie, but instead walked out sheepishly while Blake held in a giggle.

So. I didn't end up with any gum that night, but I'll always have fond memories of The General Store.

(Photo via)

The Zoo, Sock Monkey and Jimmer

2011-03-22T16:04:00.001-04:00

Saturday we went to the zoo with Logan and Janelle, the entire touring population of the Midwest and smattering of hipsters in sock-less loafers. -

We had a good time cracking jokes about pandas, making up dialogue for the great cats, and discussing how the most entertaining animals to watch at the zoo were actually the tourists. Then we sat in the parking lot for 45 minutes waiting to get out. And Logan discussed how he'd tell off a certain Pennsylvania driver if there weren't women folk around. Lets just say that I'm glad there were women folk around.

I think the highlight of my evening was watching the boys watch Jimmer and Blake's favorite sock monkey commericial:

Blake laughs so hard and so uncontrollably every time he sees this commercial that I can't help but giggle along.

I think Janelle and I particularly needed a good laugh after being repeatedly beaten in Wii Mario Kart by our husbands. I still maintain that there must have been some cheating going on. Just you wait. Some day Yoshi and Bowzer with prevail against Toad and Mini Mario. And when that day comes, you can bet your sock monkey that there will be much cheering and gloating.

Answers

2011-03-16T15:02:00.000-04:00

Firstly (and most importantly), here is the recipe for the homemade oreos mentioned in this post. They're about the simplest cookies I've ever made --even rivaling the old tried-and-true chocolate chip cookies.

Ingredients
1 boxed Devil's Food cake mix
2 eggs
1/2 cup Crisco

Pre-heat oven to 350 degrees. Mix Devil's Food, eggs and Crisco until combined. Roll dough into quarter-sized balls and place on greased cookie sheet. Bake for 8-9 minutes. This should make 40 individual cookies or 20 paired oreos.

I usually frost them with a cream cheese frosting (1/3 package of cream cheese, a couple tablespoons of butter and milk, and several cups of powdered sugar), but you can frost them with straight buttercream, too.

Secondly. Like I mentioned yesterday, last week was an exciting one for us. Blake and I both got job offers. Flattered as we both were to get these out-of-the blue offers, after much consideration we both decided to stay where we are because, well, we really like where we are and we feel really good staying where we are.

And if that wasn't already flattering enough, I also learned that I was getting a promotion with a fancy new title and a raise. NEAT! AND. I won a staff award, which also comes with a cash prize. There's nothing like "found money" to add a little spring to my step. I've already spent a portion of this found money on the Matt Clark painting and am planning to spend the rest in Europe (six weeks from tomorrow!).

As you can imagine, all of this came as quite the surprise in our quiet-little-lives. And, though this hullabaloo has been a lot of flattery and a lot of fun, I'm rather tired and am ready to go back to that life. I like quiet and little, and sometimes I even like boring.

A promotion, an award, and a job offer.

2011-03-15T12:59:00.000-04:00

We had cause to celebrate this week, so we snapped up this painting that we've been coveting from our friend Matt Clark.

I fell in love with it as soon as I saw it and knew immediately that it was destined to hang in our home. Isn't it beautiful?

Streak Free Shine

2011-03-08T17:02:00.000-05:00

We spent Sunday afternoon watching The Edge and saving a sparrow that had the unfortunate luck to slam into our glass door.

Blake and Anthony Hopkins were explaining that the Kodiak bear is a "man killer." I was hiding my face under my blanket during the brutal attack scene and jumped when I heard a sharp thwap just outside the room. Blake is braver than I, so he ventured out to see what had happened.

A concussed sparrow was quivering on our patio and our resident black squirrel was eyeing it with malice. We've seen the black squirrel battle it out with the grey squirrel (we call it Race Wars) and weren't about to leave the sparrow to its crafty ways. So we got a spade, garden gloves and a cardboard box lined with toilet paper and moved the sparrow into the box as quietly and quickly as possible.

After a quick google, we learned that we'd done just the right thing (minus giving the bird some seeds, which is apparently exactly the wrong thing to do). And sure enough after a couple of immobile hours, the bird flew away.

And now I have an excuse to stop using Windex. My windows are just too darn clean....

Things Organized Neatly

2011-03-03T16:29:00.002-05:00

(Via Things Organized Neatly)

As I've mentioned before, I love crisp right angles and precise placement. Which is probably why this photo appeals to me on so many different levels. The entire blog is eye candy to my chaos-hating eyes.

It also reminds me of Blake. Because when he gets home in the evening he'll empty out his pockets, place his iPod, Blackberry, phone and keys down on the counter and proclaim: "my techmology!"

How the Thai Tanic Sunk Me.

2011-03-02T13:06:00.003-05:00

Blake and I were planning to go to Rasika on Monday for our anniversary. We decided to cancel at the last minute because neither of us was feeling up to traipsing around the city on foot in the torrential rain.

Plan B was a candle-lit Ledo Pizza dinner chez nous. Nothing says romance like a medium pepperoni and a side salad in all their boxed and greasy glory. Add a box of Samoa girl scout cookies and we had a true celebration on our hands.

It was great fun, but I woke up Tuesday morning with a stomach ache. I think I had just one slice too many.

Anyhow. So this stomach ache got me thinking. At least this isn't like the disastrous results of the Thai Tanic dinner of 2007...

(Author's note: you may never think of me the same way again after this. So be it. It needs to be told.)

...Back in my paralegal days, my friends and I would work late (most every night) and then go out to a late dinner together and charge our meals to the client. We sampled a lot of fabulous restaurants this way. Most of them with names like Tosca, Ten Pehn, Cafe du Parc etc...delicious names. Classy names.

How I ever got talked into eating at a place called Thai Tanic is beyond me. But that's beside the point.

Come to think of it, I'd been on cough medicine all day and was more easily swayed.

So the three of us walked up 14th street and enjoyed a lengthy Thai dinner. The soup was delicious. The masaman, incredible. The satay. Yum. I started to recant my doubts and basked in the glow of a full stomach and medicine-induced stupor.

We parted ways about a block from the restaurant. At this point I was feeling pretty good, but tired. I was planning to make the long trek to the metro (why, oh why is there not a metro sufficiently close to Logan Circle?!) and fall straight into bed at home.

Five steps later my stomach started doing acrobatics. Oh no. Five steps after that and I knew I was in serious trouble.

I ran to the nearest CVS and asked to use their restroom. They told me that they could not let customers use it. But, they saw the increasing panic on my face and directed me to a hotel about a block up that has a bathroom in the lobby. I walked/ran (either way, I was sweating pretty badly at this point) to the hotel and asked the concierge if he could please direct me to the bathroom.

No, the bathroom is for paying guests of the hotel only. I cannot let you use it unless you want to pay for a room.

Look, sir. I am going to vomit on your carpet right now if you don't let me use the bathroom. (Yes, I actually said that. I'm not usually so direct, but bathroom usage was becoming imperative at this point. I also must mention that I was still dressed in my business-casual and did not look like the sort of person that generally hangs around town bumming public restrooms off of unsuspecting hotel staff.)

No. I'm sorry. That's just not possible. But, you may want to try the restaurant across the street. They should be willing to let you use their restroom.

I ran out of the hotel at full speed.

And in the middle of the street. 14th street. I lost it. ALL. I'm not proud of what happened, but it just happened. I had shat my pants.

I don't know if anyone else out there knows what it's like to completely lose control of yourself. Let me tell you right now. It's not fun.

And it became even less fun when I continued sprinting into the restaurant, locked frantic eyes with the hostess, and had her point me in the right direction. At this point I realized that I wasn't just in your standard middle-class restaurant. This place had white linen table clothes, candles, and waiters in tails. Great.

I spent the next 30 minutes in the last remaining stall of the ladies room evacuating myself of every last spec of the spicy-Thai-and-cold-medicine-combo. And then I left the restaurant trying hard not to make eye contact with anyone at all.

Then. There I was in the middle of the city. Thirty torturous minutes away from a clean set of clothes and a warm bath.

Luckily for me, it was winter and I had on a long coat the covered the incriminating stains. Unluckily for me, I smelled like ...you get the picture and couldn't risk getting into a cab (though, come to think of it, cabbies probably deal with worse on a daily basis).

My only option was the walk the several long blocks to the metro, pick a car with as few people as possible, stand sheepishly in the corner, and then waddle home to my apartment. So I did just that.

I was so disgusted with myself that I took all of my clothes, wrapped them in several layers of Safeway bags, and tossed everything down the garbage shoot. Then I promptly called Ashton, told her what had happened, and laughed away the rest of the evening.

And that, my friends, is how the Thai Tanic sunk me.

L'année Deux pour Les Amoureux

2011-02-28T18:33:00.003-05:00

(Photo courtesty of Alpha Smoot Photography)

Here's to you, Blake, and the best two years of my life.

We are a happy families.

2011-02-26T16:18:00.001-05:00

(Courtesy of Alpha Smoot Photography)

Having two families is a wonderful thing.

Luray! We made it!

2011-02-26T15:52:00.001-05:00

This is a little late, but over MLK weekend, we took a day trip down south with the Baughman's to the Luray caverns.

It's about a two hour drive from DC, but the wait was worth it. We had lively debates in the car on the way down on whether the caverns are pronounced "le-ray" or "loo - ray". Turns out (according to the audio tour) that it was a combination somewhere in between the two. BUT, I still say I was right ("loo-ray") because it sounds most southern.

The name Luray also prompted some corny, but oh-so-appropriate jokes: When we arrived in the parking log: "Luray! We made it!" etc. Oh such fun.

Anyhow, enough of these boring words. Here are some pictures:

Blake and Me in the main cavern. We look so good in those audio set headphones.

Here is Chris pondering the evolution of stalactites and stalagmites. Indubitably, sir.

Here the lovely Maeve and I discover the wonders of the bride's veil.

Super tourist, Chris and Maeve in front of Dream Lake.

Just looking surprised at the fact that the audio tour has now answered all of the questions we'd voiced to each other previously about the cave. It must be psychic.

And last but not least, here is as photo of the Dream Lake. If DC as a whole didn't already make you want to visit me, doesn't the promise of a spelunk in a cave make you all want to visit? It was by far the best cavern that I've ever seen. I could hardly believe that all we had to do was walk into a gift shop and down two flights of stairs to see all this. I highly recommend it.

Home Sweet Office

2011-02-22T10:43:00.000-05:00

The long weekend was nice. I celebrated birthdays with family, got creamed at bowling with friends, did six loads of laundry, watched some good movies, and slept in a lot.

But nothing chases away those good holiday memories quite like coming into work, discovering a pint of drippy, rancid milk in the office fridge and spending the next hour scrubbing it out.

So. Tired.

2011-02-17T16:36:00.000-05:00

This week has been one of the longest weeks of my life. And I have absolutely nothing to show for it.

Well, nothing but the troupe of angry red stress zits currently staging a coup on my chin.

For the Love of Chocolate!

2011-02-13T11:13:00.001-05:00

I won third place with these bad boys in the For the Love of Chocolate competition at work last week.

What's For the Love of Chocolate, you ask? It's only the single best day at Georgetown Law each year. It's a fundraising event for a student scholarship fund. You can pay $5.00 for all-you-can-eat chocolate for three hours. Or, you can enter a homemade chocolate dessert in the competition and not have to pay the entry fee.

I didn't win first prize (which was a dinner cruise for two on the Potomac), but I did win third prize, which was a new set of measuring cups from Sur la Table.

Mostly I just came home with bragging rights. And an uncomfortably full-of-chocolate stomach. Maybe eating five of these plus two full plates of other chocolate desserts was a bad idea?