The Abominable Snow Dog

DC is pretty much at a standstill today because of the massive snow storm we're getting.  The Federal Government is closed (exceptionally bad timing seeing as Blake is down in Texas for work and doesn't get to take the time off), schools are out, and no one is on the roads.

I've taken bear on a couple of off-leash walks today and let him play with all his muppet friends in the park.  Each time we come back inside he has to spend 20 minutes thawing out in the bath (the snowballs he collects on his legs and stomach are outrageous with this heavy, wet snow!) and then another 20 minutes drying off, but it's worth it.  He is just so darn happy outside exploring and romping with his neighborhood pals.

Off-leash walks are really lovely for me right now, too, as I'm fairly slow and cumbersome in the snow.  Bear runs circles around me and checks back every few feet to make sure I'm coming, so he gets even more exercise than I'd be able to give him on a normal walk.  And I get to waddle along at my own pace.  It's a win-win.

Our neighbors have been ridiculously nice to us all winter - shoveling our walks, clearing our car, helping us lift heavy things.  What with my carry restrictions and Blake's back being on the fritz, we've been like a couple of 85 year olds around here.  I've been baking lots of cookies and delivering lots of flowers to say thank you, but I'm still feeling guilty.   All of our direct neighbors are quite a bit older than we are, so I feel like we should be the ones helping with their walks (and most years we do).  Let's just add this to the list of many reasons why I'm excited to almost be done with pregnancy. Only six weeks left!

We're probably going to come down to the wire time-wise with our bathroom renovation.  The horrible weather (ice and snow storms for the past week and a half) have made the progress on our bathroom slow and it looks like our timeline will be pushed back a week.

Unless Maybe is born super early, that should work out fine.  I'm just ready to be living without the dust...and without a bathtub hanging out in the study.  Though, if those are the worst of my worries, it's fairly obvious that life is pretty darn good right now.

Shopping DC: Mid-Century Furniture

I'm not quite sure where this week went, but here were are at the holiday weekend already!  Blake is out golfing (I opted out of that one...), I'm lounging around the house reading and writing, and we've got fun plans for the evening that include furniture/building materials shopping (here and here) and eating at Busboys and Poets, one of our favorite local places.

So in honor of what is probably my favorite furniture store in the DC area, today's post is about where to find the best mid-century furniture (best being fact. not opinion ;))

1.  Peg Leg Vintage
Peg Leg is located in College Park, MD, just inside the beltway.  It's along Baltimore Avenue, only a couple miles from IKEA, so anytime I have to go to IKEA, I reward myself with a trip to Peg Leg afterward.  It's a great bribe.

The couple that owns the shop are just the coolest people. Every time I go in, I end up talking furniture with them for 45 minutes, and wishing I could stay longer.  Oh boy. I'm that customer.  They'll answer any questions you have about the pieces and even give you ideas for how to style it.  They'll encourage you to lounge on a chair you're eyeing - just to make sure it meets your comfort needs - and will even move other furniture around so you can get the full effect of putting your feet out on the ottoman while completely reclined in a Mister chair.  Do I sound like I speak from experience?

It's not a huge store, but their inventory is constantly changing.  Also, the owners said they always have 10-15 storage units packed full with other furniture, so if you're looking for something specific, let them know and they'll search for it for you.  Last time I was in they mentioned that they were on the lookout for a warehouse space so that they could display all their furniture at once for monthly warehouse sales.  I'm hoping that happens soon.

One of my favorite things about Peg Leg is that they don't spend time re-doing the furniture.  They just buy good stuff.  That way, they don't charge you an arm and a (peg) leg for anything.  I've been pleasantly surprised about how good the prices are.  I know it's off the beaten path, but I think their location also allows them to price things fairly.

2.  Modern Mobler
If you want to see some absolutely gorgeous restored mid century furniture, look no further than Modern Mobler.  They have locations on Georgia Avenue in NW Washington DC and in Kensington, MD along antique row.

Unlike Peg Leg Vintage, Modern Mobler's prices are not low, but I would venture to say that they're fair.  Each piece they display has been expertly restored to look like new.  They have a full-time restorationist employed for their two stores and you can tell that he puts love and attention into each piece.

So, you might not be able to go in and pick up a few items on a whim, but you'll be blown away by the eye candy.  The employees also know a ton about the furniture and are happy to answer questions.  It's almost a museum experience.

3.  Miss Pixie's
Miss Pixie's is located on 14th Street in a newly revitalized area of DC.  It's not strictly mid-century, so you'll probably see it pop up on other lists, but it usually has some great mid-century pieces.

Some pros to Miss Pixie's:  It's a large space and they have a great revolving inventory of fun pieces.  It's also pretty moderately priced.
Some cons to Miss Pixie's:  It's right in the heart of hipster-ville and things that are "fairly priced" maybe listed a bit higher than they otherwise would be.  That said, it is great fun to people-watch in this area and I love over-hearing people in the store talking about what they're going to do with a particular piece.  Lots of great ideas!

After you're done getting lost in Miss Pixie's, there are a ton of other great furniture stores in the area to busy yourself in for the rest of the day.  And if you need a break from all the inspiration?  I recommend treating yourself to a Peanut Butter Bacon Burger and a milkshake (while taking in whatever black and white film they're showing on the wall) at the new 14th Street Ted's Bulletin location.

Shopping DC: Books

Lately (while Blake was up in NYC) I've been eating all sorts of random things for dinner, so I've edged off the meal planning for a while.  I don't think my smorgasbord dinners would be all that interesting...and they certainly wouldn't contain links to great recipes.

Basically it's been like this:

Monday:  Chips and salsa and pickles.

Tuesday: Pita and hummus and raspberries.

Wednesday: Frozen enchiladas from my frozen meal stash.

Thursday:  More frozen enchiladas as leftovers.

Yes. It's been a classy affair over here.

So as I've been slacking on the meal planning posts, I thought I'd start on another series.  I love DC.  I enjoy shopping.  I adore lists.  Add those together and I give you "Shopping DC."

Mostly this is for my own good so that I keep it all organized.  Like I said, I love lists.

Where do you go in DC to buy books and enjoy the experience?  Well, in the spirit of lists and DC adventures, here is my first foray into "Shopping DC."

1.  Friends of the Library, Montgomery County Book Sale.
I've mentioned this place before (probably as the Wheaton Library Book Sale) because I visit it all the time.  I'm probably there at least twice a month and I leave with a stack of books every single time.

The Book Sale takes in donations from all over Montgomery County and organizes them into category and then by author last name.  It's as big as a Barnes and Nobel, but resides in the basement of the Wheaton Regional Library.  They've got a great kids section (with board books that look like they've never been used) and a fantastic young adult section (I got a whole set of hardcover Harry Potter books for $15.00) and a classics section with beautiful leather-bound copies...it goes on and on.

Most books are between 25 cents and a dollar.  So, whether you're looking for beautiful books for decorating purposes, or to build up your own library, or to purchase your book club books on the cheap, this is the place to do it.

2.  Capital Hill Books
Blake thinks of this more as Capital Claustrophobia Books (I sort of agree), but it's a great place to visit.  It's a used bookstore located right by Eastern Market and you feel like you're being transported through time when you walk through the door.

The best way I can describe it is 1 part hoarders episode, 1 part Harry Potter's experience at the wand shop on Diagon Alley, and 1 part Shakespeare and Company in Paris (minus the cats and the transient writers living in it).

It's worth checking out just for the experience and the great photo-ops.  Also, it doesn't hurt that it's across the street from the delicious breakfast options at Eastern Market.

Photo from here

3.  Politics & Prose.  Arguably DC's most famous bookstore...and the only non-used bookstore on my list.  Politics & Prose is a great store by itself, but my favorite thing about them is that they schedule so many events and author talks that you can keep endlessly busy satisfying your bibliophile needs.

They offer writing classes and support local authors.  They put together book signings and help sponsor the National Book Festival.  I've been to a number of their events at various locations throughout the city (my favorite was seeing Khaled Hosseini at the Historic 6th Street Synagogue) and am always impressed.  Don't forget to sign up for their email lists so you don't miss out on any of the events or interesting classes.

Tidal Basin blossoms and the mysterious Wharf

I probably post the same pictures every year, but I can't help taking more each time I visit the cherry blossoms at the Tidal Basin.  I went twice this year: one by myself on a morning jog, and once with Blake, Bear, Brady (Blake's brother's dog) and some of Blake's friends from work.  Both days had fantastic weather and a manageable amount of tourists, so it was enjoyable on all levels.

I made the mistake of wearing white pants when we went with the dogs. By the end of the morning they were looking not-so white.  Having dogs jump all over you and then eating lunch on a derelict cement retaining wall at The Wharf will do that to you.  Go figure.

Bear loved the people and wanted to watch the paddle boats go by.  We got stopped every few feet (per usual) by people asking what type of dog he was, if they could pet him, and (my favorite) if they could take pictures with him.  Yep. He was a hit with the young Japanese tourist crowd.  I wonder how many instagram accounts he's showing up on because of it.

We had a terrible, snowy winter this year, so I was worried that the blossoms might not come in force. But, luckily, I was wrong.  We hit it at the exact right time - the trees were practically weighted down under all the fluffy pink blooms.  It smelled like heaven...and gave me allergies enough to last through the weekend.

Because the Cherry Blossom Festival was going on, a lot of the cross-streets were closed and it was nearly impossible to drive across the Mall to the basin.  We had to get creative with our navigation and ended up parking along the SW waterfront on a street we'd never been down before.  As we were walking along, I recognized the wharf from several DC-based movies I've seen.  I'd never known where that location was until now.  I would compare it to a miniature version of Pike Place Market in Seattle.  Minus the trinket sellers and beautiful flower stalls.  But that stink of fresh seafood and open-air shrimp slinging?  Yep, that's reminiscent for sure.

For $15.95 we got two crab cake sandwiches, fries, hush puppies and a drink.  Not bad, right?  I can't believe we'd never heard of The Wharf before (maybe we're just that out of it...or not hip enough).  It'd be a great place to take out-of-towners who want an authentic eastern seafood meal.  We'll be back again for sure.

Too much text to read.

This is a couple days late for Veterans day, but I've been thinking about it for a couple weeks now and not known quite what to write.

A few weeks ago I read a fictional account of Iraq war veterans called Billy Lynn's Long Halftime Walk.  It was one of the most thought provoking books on war I have ever read.  I'm not sure I could glowingly recommend it to a wider audience as it was also the most profane book I've ever read.  But, I guess that's to be expected when it's told from the point of view of a young soldier.

Billy and his colleagues are back in the US on a victory tour after their heroism at "the battle of Al-Ansakar Canal."  They are paraded around the country and hailed as heroes at various events, including a halftime show at an NFL game where they're brought up on stage with Destiny's Child dancing around them.  

What struck me most was Billy's reaction to folks who would come up and talk to him and express gratitude or want to discuss the war.  The writing was superb.  Billy would zone out during these conversations and only hear key words that seemed to be repeated by everyone he met "thankful, honor, nine-eleven, terrorist, grateful, Osama...."  The thank yous seemed so empty coming from people who could never dream of understanding what he'd just been through, or how it felt to lose a close friend right in front of your eyes, or how it felt to destroy a person. 

They'd thank him, then move right on to their beer or huddle back in their expensive coats against the cold, while Billy was lost in thought, re-living his terrible experiences.  

All this time, Billy and his colleagues are also trying to negotiate a movie deal.  The money their agent has promised them is going to solve all of Billy's problems (or help solve his parents' problems).  He's got nothing, and his parents will lose their house if the money doesn't come through.  

[Side note: I'm revealing so much of the plot because I feel like if you read it, you'll get lost in the writing and the emotion of it all and not care as much about the spoilers.]

It all really got to me.  How do we sufficiently thank these young kids who are dying for us?  How do we we let them know how important we think they are?  How do you convey your gratitude and patriotic emotion without being so empty?  

How is it that these injured (mentally and physically) boys are not taken care of when they return home? We can't erase their experiences, but can we ease the transition back into "normal" life?

All these questions had been whirling around in my head for weeks, when Adrienne invited me to an anniversary party at Urban Country in Bethesda.  We arrived without knowing that the evening was also a benefit for the Wounded Warrior project.  

I had such trouble keeping my emotions (and water works) in check that night.

I'm grateful to live in a city where I can see so many active military members on a regular basis.  I'm glad that when I do it makes the war seem closer to home.  It's so easy otherwise to just push it out of my mind.

We met and talked with soldiers who are currently recovering at Walter Reed.  Some in wheel chairs, some without legs, some without a jaw, some with pins sticking out of their feet.  All under the age of 30.  

They were so kind and so impressive.  It made the war come so close to home.  My heart just ached for them.  

I felt like I was living my very own Billy Lynn.

How could I express gratitude in a way fitting what they'd done?  How would it sound to them for me to be saying I felt "so patriotic"?  Would it sound to them as empty as it felt to me?  I don't know the words to do justice to my gratitude.

I love words, but sometimes they can be so confining.  When it comes to emotion, there are never enough to so finely describe how you feel.

What I know is this. Although I don't have the words (or the capability to be eloquent with the ones I do have) to thank the men and women fighting for our country, I am so grateful for their sacrifices.  I am grateful for their optimism and faith in the greater good.  I am grateful for their bravery.  I am grateful for their tradition and honor.  I am grateful to the families that support their sons and daughters when they're so far away.


The night was to benefit the Combat Soldiers Recovery Fund.  It is a Maryland-based non-profit that provides funds to soldiers recovering at Walter Reed.  The woman who runs it does it for free so that 100% of donations make it to the soldiers.  The soldier is given a check and is able to do with it whatever he wants (fly his family out to visit him, buy Christmas presents for his children, take his wife out for dinner, buy a new prosthetic leg...).  As one of the soldiers I met said, "it is a check, yes, but it is also respect.  To be trusted to do with the money what we want shows more respect than most charities."  If you'd like to donate to the fund, you can do so here.

Mr. Bear goes to Washington

Someone told Bear that the current president is named BEARack Obama.  So, naturally he had to go downtown and check out the situation.  

Oh I love a good play on words.

The weather was perfect on Saturday (70 degrees in November!), so we brought Bear down with us to Eastern Market and the Mall.  Bear was an instant celebrity at the flea market.  We couldn't get three feet without getting stopped and without Bear getting some sort of snuggles.  As the world's friendliest dog, he was extremely pleased and hammed it up for everyone.  

We're trying to get him used to large crowds, so that was the perfect place - lots of people, lots of dogs, and lots of kids.  Oh the kids! He loves the kids most of all.

After perusing the market and gorging ourselves on street food (Chicken tikka at Indigo and blackout and maple-bacon donuts at DC Donuts - be still my heart!), we walked around the Mall to enjoy the fall colors.  It's a rare occurrence that we remember to take any pictures, but the scenery was so beautiful and we happened to have Blake's camera on hand, so we took advantage.

Bear has trouble looking at the camera when there are squirrels in the near vicinity, but I think he's pretty photogenic nonetheless.  

Why can't we have more perfect fall days like this?

 

27 - A very special birthday

Blake and I have been trying to go to Rasika together for years.  You generally have to make reservations two months in advance, and even when we do remember to make reservations, we always have something come up at the last minute so we have to cancel (I'm sure to the delight of folks on the waiting list). 

The cosmos finally aligned.  We arrived for my birthday dinner and were seated at one of the small, intimate tables in the dimly lit restaurant.  I say intimate not because it was in any way romantic for the two of us, but rather because we quickly became intimate with our neighbors - who were sitting practically shoulder to shoulder with us.

Along with everyone else that night (and probably everyone to eat there in the history of the restaurant), we ordered the Palak Chat as an appetizer.  It was divine.  But, I digress.

The couple at the table next to ours finished inhaling that heavenly spinach at about the same time we did and were (as we were) chatting amongst themselves while they waited for the main course.  That is until he was suddenly down on one knee 3 inches from me with a small box and a shaking hand outstretched toward his date.

It took me a moment to process what was happening.  In that moment and the short time following, I witnessed the world's most awkward proposal:

-Three seconds of "I love you so much. Will you marry me?" whilst Blake and I tried to shy left so as to create an extra few inches between us and the awkward.

-Approximately .5 seconds of a squeaky "yes" from the now fiancee, whilst Blake and I try in vain to not be included in the photos that are now being snapped from across the room.

- Another 30 seconds explaining "I was going to propose at home last night when we got takeout, but decided to wait until now."  Oh gosh, buddy. A proposal over takeout?  I'm so glad you waited. 

- Followed by 30 seconds of Blake and me wondering if we should congratulate them.  Then 10 seconds of actually congratulating them.

This all took - I kid you not - less than a minute and a half, making this quite possibly the shortest and most awkward proposal known to man.

I think being a part of a stranger's proposal is maybe the best accidental birthday gift I've ever received.

Brookside Gardens

I recently read an article about Brookside Gardens and was scandalized that Blake and I hadn't ventured there in the three years we've been living in our home.  It's only about a 10 minute drive north of us (and it's free!) and yet I'd never heard of it before.

Yesterday afternoon was perfect weather, so we took a leisurely stroll through the gardens.  I couldn't believe how beautiful it was - it puts the National Arboretum and National Botanical Gardens to shame.  Everything was impeccably groomed and signed.  It was quiet (even with all the tourists) and it felt like we were a million miles away from the city.

We unknowingly timed it just right for the rose garden.  Now, I'm not a fan of the grocery store variety roses, but garden roses? Sign me up.  They smelled divine and the colors were so vibrant that they looked almost fake (i.e. no filters or editing on the photos below). 

Just when I think I've seen everything there is to see in DC, places like this pop out of the ether and surprise me. 

Without further ado, let's take a pictorial jaunt through the roses:

More of Spring

I can't get enough of our house in the springtime.  The forsythia bush blooms bright yellow and is followed shortly by the tulips (I planted them last fall and was ecstatic to see them come up in such force).  Then there's the piece de la resistance - our cherry tree. 

Blake and I have both decided that if anything ever happened to the cherry tree that we'd have to move.  It's just so much a part of the identity of the house.  Our yard would feel naked without it.

When it's in full bloom, I can smell it wafting down the street about a block and a half away.  The sun is always hitting it just-so as I'm walking home from the metro and it makes my heart burst with how much I love where we live.  The first thing I do when I get home on those nights is to crank open all of the windows and let the scent fill the house.  It feels and smells like spring.  It's magical.

On a different note, I also think we're single-handedly employing all of the honey bees in the metro area during the two weeks it's in bloom.  The whole tree buzzes happily with activity.

Azaleas

One of my favorite things about springtime DC is that the color comes in waves.  Not everything blooms at once.  The daffodils come first.  Then the cherry blossoms and the tulips, then last (but certainly not least) the azaleas.  I'm pretty sure it's nature's way of easing us through 'til summer.  Just when I think the soggy blossoms littering the pavement are going to break my heart - wham, here comes the next round of color and I'm perking right up again.

Blake and I have been taking walks around the neighborhood at night to enjoy our neighbors' azaleas.  Our neighborhood is absolutely filled with them - in every shade you can imagine.

These photos are from my iPhone and were taken at dusk, so they're nothing special.  But, you can imagine how amazing the colors are in person.

When we bought our house we had only two azalea bushes on the property.  Huge, white, puffy ones by the patio.  We've kept those, and added several more. We can't be outdone by our neighbors now, can we?

Of Biblical Proportions

It has recently come to my attention that we're expecting the once-every-17-years plague of cicadas this summer.  And you know what?  Now that I know they're coming, it's like some sort of horrible waiting game.  Sort of like a slasher film when you know the guy with the mask will show up at any point, but you can't do anything to prevent it (because, after all, it IS a slasher film).  Yes. Like that. Except with these terrifying bugs: 

Look at those beady red eyes!  The horror, the horror!

My reading has confirmed that these suckers will show up as soon as the ground temperature reaches 64 degrees.  Then they'll crawl out of their subterranean bug villas and descend upon us like a plague straight out of the Bible.

How exactly does one test the ground temperature?  And is it worth doing, or should I just accept my fate? 

Blake said that in 1996 they were so plentiful that he had to scrape them off the car before getting in.  And that you can't help but step on them.  And that when they die (all at once, apparently) you have to rake their carcasses just like you would a pile of old leaves.

In conclusion, I'd advise all you unsuspecting interns planning to come to the DC area this summer to do one thing: turn and run back to where you came from.  Escape while you still can.

Sigh.

Where has December gone?

Oh, right.  It went to crummy things like the stomach flu, a cold, and laryngitis right in a row.  And horrible news on CNN.  And church meetings, long work hours, and keeping house.  And fun things like baking, Friday night dates, Christmas shopping, party planning and family outings.

Now that I have a moment, I can hardly believe Christmas is next week!

I finished the absolute last of my Christmas shopping last night.  Once again, I had the hardest time figuring out what to get for my Dad.  He's a hard one to shop for (he's not very materialistic, and male-oriented gifts are just harder) and I always want to make sure I've found just the right thing.  So, last night found me clutching the steering wheel, peering through the smacking windshield wipers trying to navigate the fog and cursing the heavily trafficked DC streets. 

I hate driving at night.  Have I mentioned it before? If not, I should have.  It's one of Rachel's necessary truths: thou shalt not voluntarily drive at night.  Unless under the influence of an extreme Christmas-shopping high, I suppose.  And night driving in low-visibility fog?  The pitts.  It ages me 50 years and finds me turning off the radio, pushing up the seat and driving in the slow lane.  Oh well.

It's all worth it to have found the right thing. 

And now. Sweet bliss. I can enjoy the stress-free anticipation that come with the holiday. 

T-Bird Pride

I enjoyed high school.  Don't get me wrong...there is no amount of money you could offer me to make me go through it again, but it wasn't all that bad.  I had good friends, I liked my classes (for the most part), I was a member of the Dorchestra, the French Club, the Ski/Snowboard club and the track team.  [I may mention that I was not the star of anything in which I participated...].  I wasn't what you'd call popular, but all was well.

I went to most of the basketball and football games.  Not as a cheerleader, and usually not with a big crowd of friends.  Generally, I went to geekily hang around with the band kids and to pay more attention to cute boys in the crowd than to what was actually going on in the game.

Our high school mascot was the mythical Thunderbird.  A creature painted in orange, white and blue on the sides of our gym and other leering places around the school. 

My friends, who were on the cheer squad, liked to make up goofy cheers imitating the t-bird.  They'd chant "thunder, lightening," then kiss both biceps and growl.  To me now (and probably to you) this seems odd.  To us then it was a thing of beauty and a source of much amusement. 

But, I digress.

What I meant to say before I got distracted by memories of my younger, goofier, freckled and brace-faced self, is that I've never had a ton of high school pride.  Timpview is just not  place I spend a lot of time thinking about.

However, last week I had the occasion to bust out my old yearbook and have a few moments of t-bird pride boasting to some of my other YA lit loving friends.

Camille and I met up at the Bethesda library last Thursday to hear YA author Ally Condie speak.  Camille and I are both fans of her Matched series, so we joined what seemed like half the teenage population of Bethesda for the Q&A session and book signing.  If I had to guess, I'd say that we were the only people above 15 who weren't there as parents with their 15-year-old kids.  In a word: it was awesome.

Ally took questions for an hour.  She explained how she got the inspiration for the opening scene of the first book from a prom that she and her husband chaperoned when she taught high school English.  As she described the school and the prom, it all sounded eerily familiar. 

So, when I had her sign my book, I asked her, just out of curiosity, where she taught.  She then confirmed my suspicions that she'd taught at Timpview.

When I got home I googled around the Internet and found out that not only had she taught at my high school, she actually taught while I was there.  It was a big enough high school that I'd never met her, seen her, or even heard of her, but when I checked my year book there she was.  A younger, early-aughties haircut version of her, but her nonetheless.

Small world, isn't it?

Bits and pieces.

If you really want to enjoy a chick flick, go out with a colleague on a Thursday night and catch the 8:00 showing.  It'll be post-happy hour, and filled with women who've had enough to drink that they're entertainingly heckling and swooning, but not so much to drink that they're obnoxious.  You won't regret it.

If you're unable to resist eating all of the left-over Halloween candy at home, put it in bags and hide it in out-of-the-way places.  I promise that this simple act will save you approximately 10,000 calories in under two days. 

If you really want a good political conversation, bring up the election with a DC resident and then remind them that their vote doesn't actually count.

If you're ever tempted by a TV infomercial, it's not always the best course of action to resist your purchase impulses.  Blake and I are now the proud owners of the Perfect Tortilla Pan Set, and after a test-run on Saturday, I can verify their absolute necessity.  (That's what having power during a hurricane does to you - it makes you watch 8 hours of TV so you get suckered into such things...)

City of Words DC is a recent find that will keep you sufficiently preoccupied during your lunch hour. 

Coming up for air.

Phew.

I've made it.

Hurricane Sandy closed down the Law Center for two days last week.  And, although it was lovely to have two days off (with power, miraculously!), I came back to absolute insanity at work.

You see, having two days cancelled means that we had to reschedule over 300 classes...all within the next four weeks until the semester is over.  It was a nightmare.  Picture a gigantic puzzle in which the pieces are constantly changing shape and deciding not to alight correctly on a whim. 

I'm down to tracking down my last handful of professors, and then I can breath a true sigh of relief, but at least I'm getting close and can finally see the light at the end of the tunnel.

So.  Other than craziness at work, yes, we're totally fine - no damage at home, no power outages, no water problems.  We're thankful that we just finished doing all our waterproofing projects this summer and are now certain they were worth every penny.  It's nice to feel like our money was well-spent. 

Saturday Leaf Peeping

Fall in DC is almost as beautiful as Spring in DC.  The air is crisp. The grass is green, the trees are orange, red and yellow.  In a word, it's gorgeous.

Blake and I have been taking daily weekend walks and bike rides to enjoy the weather and the leaves.  It was especially picturesque on our leaf peeping walk this morning.  

Photo credit, of course, goes to Blake.

BikeShare the Mall with Me

Continuing down the list of "things I've never done, but have always wanted to do," my Mom and I joined Capital BikeShare for the day and biked the mall. 

We picked up our bikes by my office/The Capitol, and made our way down the mall to the Lincoln memorial.  It was a spectacular day (weather-wise) for riding bikes.  In terms of ease, though, well, let's just say I was sweaty-palmed and white-knuckled for most of the ride.

The day was beautiful, alright, so beautiful that seemingly every man, woman, and child within a 25 mile radius had the same idea we did.  Not to mention it was also the National Storytelling Festival, so between Constitution and Independence from the Washington Monument to the Capitol was a solid, seething mass of tired/excited kids and just plain tired parents.

It was a dodge-and-weave situation for much of the afternoon.  I'm pretty sure I lost 3 pounds in water weight just from the amount of stress sweating happening during the ride.  Confession: this may come as a surprise, but I'm just not that adventurous.  Bike ride alone on the paths at the mall? A-ok.  Bike ride with 100,000 other people who all (myself included) have no idea what they're doing? No, gracias.

I was feeling pretty proud that I made it all the way down to the Lincoln in my nervous state.  My mom was great to put up with my constant breaking and oft-panicked facial expressions.

Verdict: both awesome and awesomely stressful.  I'm excited to go again when there isn't a child-friendly event.  Maybe in the evening when the monuments are lit up?  Who's with me?

 

 

An Apple (or 10) a Day

 My Mom came to visit for a few days last weekend.  Usually when she comes we end up doing house-related projects the whole time (my Mom is a home improvement genius!) and I end up feeling guilty that I put her to work for the entirety of her vacation.

So this time I made sure that we used the time as a true vacation. I took both Friday and Monday off work and we both had a truly relaxing vacation. 

It's nice to have guests that have already seen the sites multiple times so that we can branch out and do things that wouldn't necessarily be on a normal tourist's list. 

I did have a couple of things to do on my agenda - things I've never gotten around to doing, but have always wanted to do because the weekends are never long enough and there's always too much yard work or housework to be done on Saturdays when I would otherwise be gallivanting around the area on adventures with Blake.

Our first item on the list was going to Butler's Orchard for apple and raspberry picking.  It was a glorious 70-degree day with a clear sky and a slight breeze.  It couldn't have been a more beautiful day. 

Prior to driving up, I had worried that there wouldn't be any raspberries left for us to pick.  But boy was I wrong.  There were still tons of them - we just had to take our time.  We picked two pounds of raspberries (some of which didn't even make it to the car before we started snacking on them).  Hands down the best raspberries I've ever had.

We also got a little carried away picking apples.  We thought we were picking 20 pounds...but...it turns out we picked 40 (!!!!) pounds of apples.  Whoops.

Not quite knowing what we were going to do with all 40 pounds of the apples, we stopped at the grocery store on the way home to pick up pie-making supplies.  We made four pies - baked one and put the rest in the freezer - and had only used one bag of apples.  We also ended up putting together cellophane-wrapped packages to give to our friends and neighbors.  Blake and I have each been eating two or three per day, but we're still only down to 2 bags. 

Now it's a race against time...

S'More Nothing

Do you ever feel like everything exciting happens on the same day?  Not necessarily good exciting or bad exciting, but just out-of-the ordinary.

My week has been like that.  Monday, Tuesday, meh, same-old same-old: get up, get ready, chomp on breakfast on the way to the metro, work, read, cook dinner, work out, shower, watch a show, go to bed.  Repeat.

Then Wednesday hits.  A normally 35 minute commute takes 1 hour 35 minutes due to lack of power on the rails. We spend 15 minutes standing on a platform in NE DC wondering how in the world we're going to actually get to work (and join every single other person on the platform in frantically calling our offices to let them know we'll be missing whatever we have scheduled that morning):

I finally make it to work an hour late feeling ennui that can only be cured by Diet Coke or ice cream.  I opt, due to the morning hour, for the Diet Coke route.

A couple of my colleagues and I decide to further combat our metro-induced frustration by taking a long lunch and walking to the MLK library and then out to lunch.  I am now the proud owner of a DC library card (hooray for reciprocal borrowing privileges!).

The weather is perfect when I get off work, so I enjoy the walk home in the crisp fall air.  I dodge the oddly cut branch overhanging our walkway (it's a long story...), open all the windows in the house and start in on dinner and the cream cheese pound cake recipe I've been dying to try. 

Ten minutes later a man (woman?) from a childrens' poverty sponsorship agency (to sponsor the children, not their poverty...obviously) knocks on the door and proceeds to make me awkward by 1) asking if I'm really over 21, and 2) telling me that during the course of our conversation, "Bam! 50 children have already died of starvation etc. while we've been talking."  Feeling guilty and grumpy does not make my wallet open any more easily, lady (man?). 

Right before book group is supposed to start, I hear what sounds like a cross between a crying baby and a strangled cat howling outside the window.  I think at first it is some friends playing a joke on me, but Kristin knowingly informs me that it was actually a male cat in heat. 

We find him lounging in the ground-cover in the backyard, arching his back and yowling unceasingly.  It is simultaneously hilarious and terrifying and I find myself considering how I'd defend myself in the event of a cat attack (stop, drop and roll?  cover eyes, nose and mouth to prevent massive allergy attack?).

Book group otherwise goes off without a hitch, but I find myself absolutely exhausted by the end of the evening. 

What will tomorrow bring? 

Madly in Love

There's a street preacher between Union Station and my office who is loud and full of important proclamations to the world.  He'll cast out your demons. He'll bless you and your family.  He'll proclaim your past and your future.  All for the price of holding your hand...and a small donation of course.

Usually he's bellowing out hell and brimstone. Or he's praising Jesus: holding someones hand with eyes downcast in mutual prayer.  But yesterday was different.  Yesterday's prayer was my favorite. 

He was holding a woman's hand. Eye's downcast in the usual fashion.  Swaying a bit to his chanting. Ignoring the sagging pants and growing plumbers crack creeping down his backside.

And I bless you....praise him...praise him...mmmhmmm...I bless you...to fall MADLY IN LOVE WITH ME. 

I wonder if she had to "donate" extra for that?