Out of Office

That's how I've felt for the past two weeks. I mentally checked out of the office on or around Monday, December 15th, and I haven't gone back. Well, I'm here right now, technically...blogging...at my desk, but still! Mental vacay. This was a busy December, both in the office and out. (And that's not counting the things I had on my calendar but totally skipped.) Why is it that when we reach adulthood the holidays are a lot more overwhelming but without all that childish excitement? Well, I still consider myself capable of childish excitement, but it seems harder and harder to drum up when so many other things interfere. I thwarted the busyness to the best of my ability this month and managed to fill my cup with Christmas cheer despite it all!

First of all, let's talk about the Nutcracker. LOVE IT! It's definitely my favorite ballet. How can it not be, I've seen it close to ten times. This year I went all out for the Washington Ballet's Nutcracker, and it was amazing. Please keep in mind that I have the best going-to-the-ballet-shoes of all time. Why, you ask? Because they look like toe shoes. They're pink and satin-y and they have ribbons that lace around my ankles. They're also freakishly tall and really hard to walk in. Ugh. Even Dr. Scholls can't make these shoes as comfortable as my Merrills. Oh well, they look good...and as long as I take careful, measured steps they feel mostly good. Pair them with a sleek black dress and viola! I'm ready to go. Two of my roommates and I cabbed it downtown to have a leisurely pre-ballet dinner at Chef Geoff's before the show. And I mean leisurely. Don't try to make reservations less than 36 hours in advance of show night, cause then you'll have to eat at 4:30. Seriously, don't do it. The ballet started at 7, so we got there with plenty of time for appeteazies, first courses, second courses, and desserts. It was gooooood. Best butternut squash ravioli of my life. Best ravioli of my life, for that matter. Despite the excellence of the food, libation and merriment at Chef Geoff's, the real magic started when the curtain rose in the Warner Theater at 7pm. Have you been there? The theater is gorgeous. I was breathless throughout the show. One thing I love about the Nutcracker is that it's adaptable. Parts of the story can be worked to fit the tastes of the musical director. I've seen it performed maybe 4 different ways. In Tulsa it's set in 1920's Paris. Septime Webre's setting (for the Washington Ballet) was more traditional - the family home of Clara and Fritz and their parents with the tree that grows and the toys that dance. However, the second half of the show was very D.C.-oriented, and it was splendid. The nutcracker prince was George Washington. The Waltz of the Flowers was performed by the Cherry Blossoms. The Arabian Dance was more of an Anacostian Tribal dance. (Don't ask me who the Anacostians were. All I know is that Anacostia is a stop somewhere on the metro line.) Clara and Drosselmeyer's nephew were transported to their magical kingdom via riverboat. What a delight! I didn't want the evening to end. Luckily, the route home took us right by the National Christmas tree, so the night was Christmas-complete.

Let us not forget that I experienced two incredible shows in D.C. over the past couple weeks. I not only saw the Nutcracker, but I saw the revival of West Side Story at the National Theater. Wow! Forget Tony, I'll never stop saying (read: singing) Maria. Good times, people, good times. So there were other events that kept me busy: Christmas parties, orchestra concerts, visitors, Christmas shopping and family band concerts. Okay, not a family band, per say, but more of a member of my family in a band playing a show. Confused? My cousin Shara's band, My Brightest Diamond (see link at right for sweet deets), came through DC on tour. So I got to spend a cold rainy Thursday night listening to great music with strangers, friends and family. It was awesome. I would also like to give a shout out to Clare & The Reasons, who opened for MBD. They are so good. Loved every moment. Besides that, I played two WMPA concerts that were fun, caught up with friends who were passing through town, and prepared to leave for home.

So that takes care of the out-of-office stuff. Want to know about the in-the-office stuff? Well, prepare yourself. I was an office elf. Blerg. I thought I was signing up for the set-up committee. No, in fact I was signing up for the holiday party planning committee. Rookie mistake. I commandeered the gift exchange portion of the party. I recruited invaluable help from a couple coworkers, but I had to manage the whole shebang, and it was torturous. "Gillian, send out a mass email with the rules for the game so people can be prepared." No problem, done. "Um, wow, Gillian, send us ANOTHER Smithsonian email. Those rules were like a book." All lies, there were three sentences to the whole email. "I never read that email, how do we play this game again?" "Gillian, explain the rules to everyone before we start." ARGH! I will not be elffing next year. No, no, no.

On the bright side, my office won the door decorating contest. We re-themed the "12 Days of Christmas" as the "12 Months of (the Donor Fundraising) Campaign". As you can see from the picture, we showcased each of the 12 months with lyrics and visual representation. But that didn't win us the prize. We also included an audio representation. We sang, well I didn't as I was accompanying on the violin, and recorded ourselves on a digital voice recorder we taped to the door. That's what won us the prize. People kept walking by, pressing the play button and listening to us squawk out the 12 months of campaign. What a treat for the ears after the 5th time, really.

So there you have it. In a nutshell, that's what kept me busy this month. That and reading some really good books, watching some great movies (Marley & Me was phenom), and baking chocolate chip cookies. Plus, I had 5 fabulous days with my family in Tulsa, and now I'm back at the office (supposedly) scrambling to enter all the gifts before our year-end deadline. Well, I will be scrambling again shortly. I needed a break from the scramble. It's hard to go back to work after spending such good times with the fam. I really didn't feel like coming back to the District. Next year I'm taking more time off. Don't feel too sorry for me, though. The fun doesn't stop once Christmas ends. There's still New Years Day, my 4-day weekend including MLK Day and Inauguration Day, my birthday weekend, and so much more. January's going to be good. I can feel it.

Welcome, 2009. Make me proud.

Sounds of the Season

My favorite part of Christmas is the music. Okay okay! Let's be real. My real favorite part of Christmas is celebrating the birth of Christ. Buuuuut! Whilst celebrating the great coming of our Savior, one often finds celebratory words put to...wait for it...music. The secular stuff is pretty good, too. Ready for some trivia? My favorite sacred piece: ooo, tough one - probably "Silent Night." I do love a good "Lo How a Rose," though, and "Good Christian Men Rejoice" makes me jolly. Favorite secular piece: definitely "The Christmas Waltz." Love it, love it, love it. Right now I'm listening to the full Nutcracker score. Gets me every time. More trivia - did you know that "Coventry Carol" was written as the mothers' lament when King Herrod was killing all their infant sons? That's what someone told me at orchestra rehearsal last night. I'd like a second opinion.

As my fellow musicians can attest, this season is probably the busiest one for people who love listening to music, making music, and appreciating music. Especially for those who make music, it's a very busy time. These days I don't make music for money, so my schedule isn't quite as full of Christmas parties and church services as it has been in the past, but that hasn't stopped the music from coming to me, as you'll see.

Last Tuesday afternoon I left the office at 3 o'clock to catch the metro to Bethesda, Maryland. The Washington Metropolitan Philharmonic was scheduled to perform a special one-night-only Christmas concert at the Strathmore Concert Hall (totally gorgeous, by the way) that evening at 8 pm. I will preface this story by stating that this is the longest day I can remember in recent history. You might think it was only 24 hours, but I must have fallen through the space-time continuum somehow. I arrived at the concert hall ready to rehearse for two hours. We had a lot of music to go over. Several guest artists made appearances with the orchestra that evening, so we had to go over our pieces for each one of them. What a disaster! One guy never got his music for a piece, so he was singing along in the wrong key. One guy said he'd only ever played the love theme from The Godfather in c minor, and he wanted the entire orchestra to transpose the piece so he could play it "like [he'd] been playing it for 23 years." We couldn't do that. Let me rephrase - most of us string players couldn't do that, so the guy had to play his oboe in g minor instead. Then, of course, every time we were ready to rehearse with a different soloist that person was nowhere to be found. Ultimately our dress rehearsal ran a bit over time. We all had a sick feeling that the concert would be the same way.

It was. We had less than an hour and a half's worth of music to play. We started the program promptly at 8pm. You know what time we ended? 10:30pm!!! Yes, thanks to our emcee/guest oboist, we ran an hour longer than necessary. Never have I heard a man tell so many stories! And I am now aware that he has not only played at Strathmore, but at the Lincoln Center, the Kennedy Center, Carnegie Hall, and all over Europe as well. You know what was especially fun? After we played the Godfather theme and our oboe/emcee man had made his "impromptu" appearance he grabbed the mic, tried to make a joke about c minor, said "Hit it, Steve" to our keyboardist, and proceeded to play the entire piece again in c minor. Apparently, it was really important that the audience hear him play this piece in the key with which he was most comfortable. Gah! I worked very hard to school my features. People could have seen me roll my eyes, after all. Well, I heard enough anecdotes and bad jokes that night to last me throughout the entire Christmas season. This man would set the mic down and start walking off stage, then turn around and come back to tell another story he forgot to mention previously. I couldn't tell if the audience loved or hated him. Maybe both. But the icing on the cake was dropped from the metaphorical spatula when this emcee joined the orchestra for our final number, the "William Tell Overture." He fiddled with his chair and music stand for a bit, got settled, looked at his watch and whispered quite conspicuously and in all seriousness to our conductor, "We need to speed this one along, Ul, we're out of time." I just about stabbed him with my bow. Don't worry, at the last minute I remembered Christmas is about sparing, not spearing.

I mentioned that the fateful Tuesday was the longest day in recent history. We concluded the concert at 10:30pm. I walked to the metro, waited for 10 minutes, rode the rail for 30 minutes, switched platforms to catch the next train, waited for 20 minutes, caught the Orange line and walked home from my metro stop. I got home about midnight. Too late for this ol' gal! It took me the rest of the week and weekend to catch up on my sleep. You do realize that missing two hours of work meant I made it up the rest of the week by either staying late or coming in early. Staying late is the bane of my existence, so I chose to come in early. That did not help the sleepyness.

Okay, so that was Strathmore. A detailed description, I know, but you need to realize that the pain you experienced reading my tale is nothing to the pain I experienced living it. Yeegads! You ready for another story about music? Okay, here it is.

Every year the Office of External Affairs, of which I am an employee, has an office door decorating contest. Every office decorates its door. We all vote on our favorite door at the office party, and the winners receive a half day off work. Tempting. This year we had a little office meeting - there are 6 of us total in our cubicle-ridden file cabinet of an office- and decided that in order to be competitive this year we needed to stimulate not just the eyes but the ears as well. I did not volunteer my musical services. No indeed, I was volunteered by another. You see, I generally like to keep it mum around the office that I play the violin. Having this knowledge encourages my coworkers to ask me to play for things like office parties. I always nip that in the bud as quickly as possible, but I can never quite wipe away the disappointment they feel for not being able to procure free entertainment. Plus, this punky's not a solo player. No, I like to play with an ensemble...if the occasional solo is thrown my way just because I happen to be playing the lead first violin part then fine, I'll do it! But I'm not about to set up my stand and be the only thing for people to listen to. Blech. Regardless, my boss proposed a fetching idea for our audio stimulation. "I'll sing," she says, "and Gillian can play the violin." AHHHHHHHHHH!!! I didn't say no, though, because the prize is worth the risk. So tomorrow afternoon I will be playing "The 12 Days of Christmas" with my office's resident flutist. Don't worry, we're just going to record ourselves on a little digital recorder and attach it to our door so people can play it at their leisure while they peruse our display of the 12 Days of the Economy. Or did we decide on the 12 Days of a Campaign? I think the campaign one (think fundraising, not political).

Anyway, I just got home from work after a little practice session with the office arranger/flutist. Great arrangement, by the way. We'll make those Office of External Affairs people proud! Can you believe how much work we've put into this? I mean, JT actually took the time to write out a score for flute, violin and voice. Impressive. And it better pay off! I could use that extra half day to sleep and stuff.

So I rounded out the week with another orchestra rehearsal. We're playing 2 concerts with violinist Jenny Oaks Baker (www.wmpamusic.org) and her repertoire includes some fun fiddley Christmas tunes. "I Saw 3 Ships" does sound much more exciting when you're pretending you're Irish. Attempting to fiddle (a favorite pastime of mine) and playing Christmas music (a favie for life) are going to make these upcoming concerts WMPA's best yet! If you're in the DC area stop by. You won't be disappointed. Plus, I'll wave to you from stage and flash a toothy grin for the camera. Booyah!

(See that pretty picture at the top? That's 925. Nice, id'nit?)

The Real World: Domestifestivacation

Domestifestivacation. Like it? I made it up. It involves being all domestic, making domesticity into some sort of party or "festival" if you will, and also vacations. I don't know why I threw vacations in the mix. Probably because I like them, k? Well anyway, part of being a grown up means being domestic...at least in my life it does. I grant you, making do in the "real world" means many things to many unique individuals, but for me a big part of attempting to live in Adultdom is attempting to keep myself fed and clothed. Oh, and avoiding living in squalor. In layman speak, it means I have to feed myself and do chores. Blech.

In my limited experience, there is practically nothing in the real world that matches up with how I thought it would be. I've already discussed my feelings about work. I'm not ready to get on that soapbox again. However, the whole concept of life as an adult is a soapbox in and of itself for me. How did I not see any of it coming?? The working, the getting plugged in, the errands, the doing things for myself, the self-reliance, the actual independence. Just thinking about it all at once blows my mind. I feel it's best to tackle this one topic at a time. If I wanted to discuss every aspect of adult life that has surprised me over the past 3 years, I would be writing for hours and still not have exhausted my feelings on the subject. Ergo, today I discuss domesticity.

Yeah, like living in a dorm ever got me ready to live on my own. Example. (My parents will love this...) I remember having a very serious argument with Donnie and Shar-Shar before the summer of 2004. It left me in tears. I was also in tears during the "discussion". Angry tears! I was adamant that I could handle the responsibility of living on my own, in San Antonio, with my best friends before our senior year. With some sort of waitressing or retail job, I was sure I could live in relative comfort whilst paying my bills and having the best summer ever. I humbly suggested this to the parental unit and boy did I get the smack down. In their infinite wisdom, my 'rents asked that I think about all possible ramifications of my perfect little scenario. Really, really was I going to pay all my bills and buy food and gas and pay rent living on tips? Okay, they didn't just ask me to think about this stuff, they told me I couldn't do it. I was livid! They were crushing my dream! I was so young and free and I knew I could handle it all. I was going to be a senior, for crying out loud. How hard would it be to live with my besties for just 3 months? Oh wow, oh WOW. I laugh at myself now, imagining what my summer would have been like had my parents agreed to my request. AND I laugh incredulously thinking about how so unprepared I was for life on my own then, especially considering how unprepared I was for it after I graduated (and at that point I'd been living "on my own" for 2 semesters.)

Playing house can be fun, but it's no joke. That's why I moved back home after I graduated college. Yes, I was a boomerang kid...or latchkey kid? I don't know all the words. They have some name for people like me. But it was cool. I had a good job. I was moving back to Tulsa, a city with a relatively low cost of living. Yet, I was not prepared to live on my own. Okay, just think about this. Were I to live on my own, I would have had to buy furniture. Do you realize how much a couch costs?! It's ridiculous! Just furnishing my kitchen alone would have broken the bank. Oh, and beds cost an arm and a leg (and are wicked tricky to relocate). Too much, I tell you! So, I moved back into my old room and set up shop. I had rent on reasonable terms, I helped with cooking, I helped with cleaning, and I bought a tiny TV and rabbit ears for my room. Yes, I was postponing some things...like paying the heating bill and planning menus for one. I'm not going to lie, it was a great set up and I miss it occasionally. But here's the thing, I didn't see it coming. When we graduate, we're supposed to forge our way in the world all self-sufficient and independent. We're supposed to buy couches and floor lamps and maybe a decorative rug. We're supposed to be able to jingle our key rings in younger people's faces and say, "Yes, this is the key to my very own apartment" and "Isn't it just the most fun being grown up? (Insert condescending/patronizing laughter)" Sheeshkabobs.

When I moved from my parents house I moved right from the real world back into the fake one. I went back to school. I couldn't handle it otherwise! Too much, people, too much. I didn't realize it at the time, but I was continuing on the path toward Adultdom whilst trying to avoid it at all costs. That is, while I was postponing parts of the real world (read: working for a living) by going back for my Master's, I wasn't able to ignore all parts of being a grown up. This time, with this move, I really was moving out on my own. No parental cushion, no close proximity to home. Only me, my student loans, and my razor-sharp wits. Ha. Each school year I lived in Kentucky I lived with friends. I knew them before hand, we made a decision to be roommates, and it worked well both times. Easy transition, right? Then I moved to a city where I knew next to no one. Try finding a good place to live when you have no potential roommates and the cost of living is sky high. Oh, well you might have done this part already, but at the time I hadn't. Where was I going to start??

I probably started freaking out about a month before I moved. First of all, how does one decide when to move. But of course, that's tied to where one moves. Which is tied to finding a place to live. Which entirely depends on one's ability to find affordable safe living. Hello, Facebook! I was blessed to have KY friends who had DC friends who pointed me in the direction of some good classified sites run by churches. Hmmm, still a problem. I didn't know what places were safe places, what parts of the city were cooler than others. I didn't even know where anything was. Is it better to live in the District or outside it? Is it better to live in Virginia or Maryland? I found lots of affordable housing in places that turned out to be an hour away from work by car. The scariest part was knowing that most people I talked to just moved to the city and stayed in hotels for a week while they found a place. I didn't want to do that. Yikes. Plus, how do you know that when you find a roomate online, or even your own apartment, that you're not going to be living with creepies and bad landlords? Or landladies. Hahaha, landladies.

God bless friends. I knew someone who knew someone who accepted renters recommended by mutual friends. I ended up moving to Arlington, VA, and staying with a family I'd broken bread with a couple times in my life. (Aunt Jan gets a shout out here.) Oh, another blessing? Barron was with me :). I ended up living just near a metro line that took me straight into work. I got to explore the city for a month and a half while I looked for a more permanent place. By the time I moved I had a better idea of what I was looking for in my living situation. If you've read my other blog posts, you know how I found 925 and the greatness that is the cute yellow house. But my real world experience didn't stop with the move. Oh no, dear friends. It continues, because once you actually move in, that's when you start learning to live like an adult.

My parents taught me well. I was no stranger to the kitchen as a child. However, I never really got that creative gene for planning menus and throwing around names of spices like they were on my guest list for the taste bud party. Hmmm, this doesn't taste quite right...I should throw in a dash of...wait for it...I have no idea. I mean, I could clean the kitchen with the best of them, but I never had a good plan for making the mess. My Ragu spaghetti and salad meals were fine for a single woman on a high carb plan, but I longed for more. I could see visions of the beautiful foods I would make, the praise I would receive, the accolades. Okay, I didn't really care about the accolades. I just wanted a little variety. You see that picture of the pear concoction at the top of the post? That's a stuffed pear salad. Layers of juicy pear, spinach leaves, dried cranberries, feta cheese, almonds, a hint of ginger-sesame dressing, all drizzled with pure honey. It was delicious, and just look at it, all aesthetically pleasing and sitting proudly on my dining room table. I didn't make it. I tell you, I don't have the creative gene! But, I have made great strides in the domesticity department and I'm here to tell you, the situation is not hopeless. Just because, like I did, you existed on Ramen and Easy Mac and Snackwells during college doesn't mean you can't transition to a higher, more delicious standard of eating. Grown up ways deserve grown up tastes...tayz...that's never going to rhyme.

So I'm learning to cook. I have a very patient roommate who grocery shops with me and plans meals with me...I'm becoming quite the sous chef. She'll say, "Ooo wouldn't that shrimp be good with some orange marmalade, ooo maybe some ginger, oh and definitely blah blah blah." I say yes, and she's always right. It does taste good. I can't come up with that stuff, but I sure can eat it. Oh, and I can finally make an omelet!!! And I mean a real one, not just scrambled eggs with stuff in them. I have to give myself some credit. Given proper instruction I can make many edible dishes. That's progress, people.

There are other things about being domestic that come more easily to me: laundry, vacuuming, burning candles to make the house smell yummy, taking out the trash. Things I forget to do: change the air filter, change light bulbs, sweep the porch, mow the lawn, water the plants, file papers, dust my bedroom furniture. I am a very good mail sorter, though. But really, who knew all that went in to independence and living "alone." I mean, even with roommates I have more responsibilities than I care to assume.

Just one more department in the Adultdom complex I've been exploring. Domestifestivacation. You know, it really can be fun. Cause I get to do what I want. I choose my choice. And I can not do things that I'm just not in the mood to do, like dust my bedroom furniture. (It's very unsightly as some of it's black and shows dust after one day of being clean.) And when I don't feel like coming up with something uber creative and gourmet to eat, I make a giant pot of chili and eat it for days. Step two: in progress.

The Real World: Work

I am of the opinion that no one is quite prepared for this. And you know why? From age six at the latest, we're all schooled like it's our job. Okay, we're not all schooled like it's our job...I have taken a sociology class or two, after all. However, "average" middle class Americans are definitely schooled. Educated. "Prepped", if you will. Well, I won't. Nope. College doesn't prepare you for the real world. Ha! After those four glorious years of semi-independence and grown up-edness, I believed in a nice smooth (though maybe tearful) transition to the "real world." Boy was I in for a surprise. Yipes.

There are some things you just can't learn in a classroom. Like how hard it is to wake up before 9 every morning, or how difficult it is to make friends when you're not thrown into classes and dorms together. Things are so much easier in college. I mean, I can't just enroll in a Tennis I class anymore without doing some serious research. No oh-I-guess-I'll-take-it-next-semester. Now it's all, Google tennis in the area and see who offers it for the cheapest and blah blah blah blah blah. This is just one example. FYI I've given up on actually improving my tennis "game" anymore. From now on, I'll only have the skills I remember from Tennis I, spring semester, senior year 2005. And I bet regular coaches don't give you free cherry limeades from Sonic for doing well in class. Blerg.

So who's with me? I guarantee you that every one of my best friends from college has said to me at one point, "I just don't think I was meant to work." Oh, and I said it to each one of them, too. Going to class, hanging out with friends in the library whilst "studying." Yes, that feels natural. But knowing what you want to do in order to support the lifestyle to which you'd like to be accustomed, and actually getting that first job you hope will lead you down the right path to grown up bliss? Not natural for a young woman of 22. That decision is just too big for one person to make. And then once you make the decision, or you fall into it somehow, it's not always clear you've made the right decision. (Counting sick days and annual leave time and holidays and all that stuff is just flat out intimidating. It is much preferable to travel year round on the budget of independent wealth.)

I think the problem starts about sophomore or junior year of high school, and it just doesn't go away. Admittedly, we're all socialized to ask the young people what they see in their future. It's just part of normal conversation. But with those loaded questions comes so much pressure that we youngins just can't shake! People ask you these questions like, "What are you going to do?", and you're expected to answer with some form of clarity. Then, of course, if you don't know what you want to do and you admit it, some well meaning soul will tell you, "Oh there's no rush. I don't even know what I want to do and I'm 80." You appreciate the sympathy, but you think to yourself, if I don't need to know now then why is everyone and their mom asking me this question? Honestly, at that point in my life I even started making things up that sounded plausible so I wouldn't look like a clueless goon every time someone popped the question. "Um, I'm thinking about applying to law school." Yeah, right. Oh, at the time I kind of thought it could work, so it wasn't totally a lie. The point is that except for the lucky few, hardly any of us has a career plan well mapped out when we graduate college, or even grad school. I know I can't be the only one. We're just barely figuring out who we are as adults and we think we're supposed to know what the rest of our lives is going to look like.


How are we supposed to know exactly what to do after college? Some of my friends went straight into grad school, either knowing precisely what their career goals were, or just postponing the inevitable of getting a job and joining the ranks of the working people. I was blessed to find a job about a month before I graduated college, so I had that nice safety net of knowing what I was going to do come June 2005. Well, I knew what I was going to do but I didn't quite understand how to do it - how to exist outside my norm. How did one live without going to class every day? I'd been a student all my life, so I was good at it. I loved it, actually. So now came the greatest challenge of them all...working for a living. Well, I'll have you know that work is for the birds. It's just so...regular. There's so much routine and order, at least for some. It seems like the most exciting chaotic jobs only come with a lot of advance training, and I was trained to look at the world sociologically, not to cut someone's head open and do brain surgery.

Even with the best of intentions and the greatest of co-workers, work isn't always everything it's cut out to be. For those who don't know what they want to do, have no five-year plan, and don't know how what they're doing now can catapult them into what they'll be doing next, the real world can be a scary place. It certainly was for me. Of course, I did come up with a tentative five-year plan. (I kind of had to, since people still refused to stop asking me what was coming next.) I was going to work for about three years, go to grad school, and then do something...else. The "else" was still up in the air, but I had some outline for action and that was enough. Or so I thought.

The five-year plan quickly became the three year plan when I gave it greater thought. What?--I have to go to work every day from 8:30-5? No, no. You don't understand, I'm used to having 2-4 classes a day, doing some homework, maybe going to orchestra rehearsal, and then doing whatever I want. I don't understand this long day thing you've got going on here. Um, I don't quite know what you mean when you say "paid vacation." How am I not allowed to take a month off at Christmas and a full three months of summer? Hmmm, it's mid-July and I'm WORKING. I don't like this. No. Okay, this paycheck thing. How do I work that out...bills, bills, bills. Do I really need a cell phone? Car insurance isn't a have-to-have, right? Why does everything cost so much money?!?!? Of course, there were perks to the ol' working routine. I didn't have to study for a test for many moons. My weekends were completely free. I didn't have to look at my grades every semester with my fingers crossed. Nonetheless, for me the real world was too much of a shock to the system and I had to retreat. Hello, Grad School! It's me, Undecided!

Grad school it was. I just knew that this would be the answer to my problems. I would learn, I would teach, I would get my doctorate, and I would spend the rest of my days in the ivory tower, sharing my immense knowledge of sociology with all the eager young minds of the day. (Insert incredulous laugh here.)

Of course, once I got to UK my plan changed again. Oooo, being a professor isn't as awesome as I thought it would be. I have to publish how many articles? Wait, why don't professors get to focus more on teaching than they do on research? What's a CV and why do I have to do one? You want me to go to a conference and...present?!? No no no no, can't, I'm busy...every time. Well, okay I do like grading papers and giving feedback, so I can go to a smaller school with less research emphasis and focus on my teaching. Oh WAIT...I'm responsible for two classes of freshman and I'm dreading every day I have to go to that class. No, I will not give you a make up exam because you overslept! What do you mean you didn't know the assignment was due, it's on your syllabus!!! No, I will not give you an extension cause you weren't in class to hear the announcement...read your syllabus!!! Being a teacher is tough. I wasn't thrilled to be responsible for these kids' learning, and Lord knows they weren't thrilled about learning what I had to teach them. Even to this day I refuse to read my teacher evaluations. I told the admin assistant in my office to just put them in my file and never send them to me. I don't want to know what they thought of my professoring. I did inadvertently get some feedback from a student who wrote in his "fictional" paper that his Sociology TA was a fairly easy teacher and was pretty funny. Okay, I liked that he called me funny, but that was enough. I was done.

I know I'm not the only one who's faced this predicament. We think we have an idea of what we might want to do. Then we try it. We hate it. What next? Mid-stride I considered dropping out of school and getting a job, but I decided that having a Master's was a big deal and I'd really regret not having it if I left. Thank goodness I reached this realization at school and had the free chance to talk to a career counselor about my future. I took tests, I read pamphlets, I assessed my personality. I'm an ENFJ...no, INFP...okay, I really don't remember. I'd have to look through my files. (INFJ? That sounds right.) All I know is that I started realizing that exactly what job I performed wasn't as crucial to my decision-making process at the time as finding a job with the qualities I wanted to have in my work life. For example, I didn't want to deal with the public all the time, and I didn't want to work in a really high stress environment. As I reviewed the results of the various assessments I took, I noticed that Grant Writing kept popping up as a possible career path. Excellent notion, I thought. I knew I didn't want to ask people for money via voice, but I'd done Development work before and I always liked helping the Development Director work on grants. I like writing. It's a viable option, I thought. After much painful consideration, and many appointments with the UK Career Counselor, I decided to get an internship that involved grant writing. Practical experience is highly underrated. It can make or break the job search. Classroom experience turned me away from wanting to teach sociology to college underclassmen. Renting event space to brides taught me to avoid any occupation in the wedding industry. I was determined to see, ASAP, if I was cut out for grant writing.

Well, I never got the chance to find out. I took an internship with the local Girl Scouts council in Lexington, and I did all sorts of things for the Development Office. I kept up the giving database, I helped organize fund raisers, I took control of stewardship for annual giving. I researched funding opportunities for our grant writer. What I did NOT do was write grants. Ever. Not once. But you know what? I didn't mind that much. Through the most unexpected of ways, I gained enough experience to steer me in the direction of Development and Advancement Services. By the time I was ready to start applying for jobs, I knew what kind of job I was looking for...ish. I stuck to the higher ed and non-profit sector, and I applied for jobs in Development. I'll have you know that I never anticipated doing this kind of work. It never popped into my head as a possibility for making a living. However, through all my bumps, experiments and stumbles, I found something I knew I could do with relative satisfaction so I could pay my bills and start paying off my student loans.

So that's how I ended up at the Smithsonian. I applied for about 25 jobs online through various fundraising org websites, and I got two interviews. One in DC, and one in Boston. I arrived in DC on February 26th for my interview with no expectations. I didn't know if this would be a good fit for me, but I thought it was worth finding out. I'm glad I did. I knew after the interview that I wanted to work for the Smithsonian, and I wanted to live in DC. But here's the thing - I only knew what I wanted for the short term. And I was okay with it. My interviewer asked me what my career goals were, and I made something up that sounded horribly naive and convoluted. I didn't fool anyone. She and I both knew that I had no clue where I wanted to go in my career. In fact, I still don't know and I've been gainfully employed for over 5 months. I enjoy gift processing, and the whole Advancement Services field intrigues me. But long term?

Well, I've decided that I don't have to have career goals or any sort of long term plan. Why should I? After several years of worries and anxiety, I've realized that I can do just as well when I don't try to look at the whole picture at once. The way my life has gone thus far, I know I'll look back in 30 years and think, Oh, that's how I got here. Until then, I won't know exactly where the ol' job road is leading me. I tend to fall into situations. I learn something, I meet people, I find out a little bit more about what I do and don't want in a job, and I fall into something else. And that works for me. I wish I could tell everyone graduating from college that it's okay not to know. I wish someone had told me that I would really find my way more by accident than by design. Maybe people tried to tell me, but I was too freaked out by growing up to really listen.

Naturally, with all this new found wisdom, I chose to move to a city where everyone my age is only here for a bit. It's such a transition city that no one expects any DC 20-something to be here for the long term. So you know what socially acceptable questions we DC strangers ask one another? That's right, "How long do you plan on staying in DC? Do you think you'll stay here or move on to something else?" Oh good grief! Well, at least I can say with greatest confidence that I just don't know. "We'll see," I say. Mmmm, I just love the promised adventure of that phrase.

The real world is a shock to the system for those of us fortunate enough to enjoy life without it for the first 22 years of our existence. The very rhythm of it all is overwhelming. There are so many facets of being an adult that I never anticipated. There's so much to do, so much to pay. But I have one thing figured out: I don't have to have things figured out. Work will be. I will work. Where I work will be determined on an as-need basis. Step 1, complete.

Election Day

I guess elections are a pretty big deal when you live in the capital of anything. The government's hub, if you will. Every day I come home to leaflets, pamphlets and flyers littering my front stoop. Vote Obama, Vote McCain, Time for Change! Blahdeeblooblahbloopers. At least once a day some well meaning campaign volunteer knocks on the door of 925 to find out who I'm voting for and if I need more information on his/her candidate. Don't judge me, but sometimes I just tell people I'm voting for whoever their candidate is. It makes them leave me alone. Or sometimes, if I answer the door with my phone to my ear it makes them go away quicker. Tactics, people.

These past few days have been the worst. Now it's at least twice a day that volunteers stop by. Near the metro stops they congregate in throngs, jumping up and down and yelling at me to vote. Seriously, that actually happens with the jumping and everything. When I get off the metro there are at least four people standing at the top of the escalators, homemade banners waving ferociously in the breeze. Can banners wave ferociously? Well, they do here. Yipes. It's madness, I tell you. Utter madness. I feel like a celebrity. People follow me around, asking me my opinion & telling me how to pose--er, vote. This has been happening for a month now, you realize. Cute elderly folk would sit in the metro just past the gates and give people forms to register to vote. Voting lines have been long as all get out. Not for me though, this ponky voted absentee-style. For whom? None of your dang business.

Government employees don't get Election Day off. Ridiculous, right? I know! We get Inauguration Day off, which is a pretty sweet deal - what with MLK, Jr. day it makes for a nice 4-day weekend right before my bday - but I want today off! They don't know that I don't need to go vote. What if the line is 4 hours long? I should have excused absences! Maybe I need to have a 5 hour prayer vigil before I vote, and then I have to wait in a 6 long hour line. They need to respect me! Oh well, I can't have everything. I do get a holiday a week from today for Veteran's Day, so I really shouldn't complain. Ohp, too late.

So did you vote yet? If I hear that question one more time, I'm going to take out a giant ink stamp that says YES I VOTED, FOOL and pound it straight into homey's forehead. Donezo. Homey don't play that. I'll tell you what homey does play, though...online election coverage during work hours. Yes, that's right. Fine, if you're going to make me work I'm going to keep refreshing Washingtonpost.com like it's my job all day long. As my friend Q says, "I like watching the states turn colors." Totally brill.

So in other random news, I went to my first (and not last) Coldplay concert on Halloween. It was AMAZING. I love when people are awesome live and not just on a doctored album. No, I did not dress up. I don't do costumes. Overrated. But I did jam out and take lots of pictures on my cell phone cause I forgot my camera. Of course, I don't know how to upload the photos to my computer. So you'll just have to picture it in your mind's eye. Coldplay, the Verizon Center, Chinatown DC, me and my roommate Kristen, section 205. Good visual. The band came into the audience at one point to play a quick set and they were only about 60 feet from me. AHHHHHH! Love love love love love them. Alright, gushing over.

Next on the random list, orchestra. We had two concerts last month, and the second one went a lot better for me than the first one did. Mainly, I was well rested. Secondly, I was focused on the notes and better rehearsed. We played at the Church of the Epiphany in downtown DC, and it was great. I love playing in churches, especially when playing sacred music. It just fits. We had a really good turn out, so hopefully people will spread the word about the orchestra. Now that our first concert is behind us, we've started rehearsals for our December shows. You know what that means...Christmas music!!! YAY YAY YAY YAYYYYYYY! I have a hard and fast rule for myself, as do many, that I will not listen to Christmas music before Thanksgiving. I want to give that important holiday its due. However, I just can't help it that I have to rehearse "Coventry Carol" and "I Saw Three Ships" and more before that day. I mean, I have to do it. Sho hate it, she says quite facetiously. WMP is hosting a guest artist for the Christmas...oops, sorry, Holiday...concert and she's fiddling along to some classic Christmas melodies. I'm excited about that part. I do love a good fiddle session. In fact, I've been listening to my Natalie McMasters CD a lot recently. All I want to do is jig around to some good Irish tunes. Story of my life.

Anyhoo, I suppose that's the word. Oh, I should probably tell you that the picture on this post is a little old. It's from this summer when my friends Katie and Alexandra came to visit me and we went to the Lincoln Memorial. I was moved to make a speech...to the ground, apparently. Either that or I'm a very demonstrative reader. Bye bye.

Violin Nation, President: not me so much

Greetings, travelers. Welcome to the oasis. Parched? Have a tall glass of...I really really really should have practiced more last week! Blerg. Just yesterday I participated in the season opener for the Washington Metropolitan Philharmonic. My performance was, well, less than thrilling. The same cannot be said, however, for my colleagues and peers. Cheers to the WMP! We had a solid first concert, accompanied by chorus. And with the added fan base of the chorus, we even had a solid audience, too. In fact, my weekend was bookended by some great music. Listen well, children, and I will tell you the tale...

The other day, my roomie Kristen and I were walking through a neighborhood park close to 925. We saw, on a telephone pole, a flyer for a FREE chamber music concert performed by the IBIS (I still don't know what that stands for) at the Lyon Park Community Center. The flyer assured us that the theme of the evening was "movie music", and you should know that I can never, ever turn down an opportunity to hear movie music. That settled it. We had plans for Friday night. When Friday came around I skipped merrily home from the metro. No, that's a lie. I would never skip home. How embarrassing. I walked home with a bit of spring to my step, delighted that the weekend was nigh and the temperature was high. Nope, lied again. The temperature was not high, it was more like perfection. We'll say 70s. Soooo, I entered my house, sorted the mail, walked up the stairs with my mail in hand, passed through my doorway and immediately plopped down in front of my new computer.

Here's a side note: I got a new computer. Yes, friends. I am the new owner of Laurel's technologically delicious Mac Mini. It sits primly on a ghetto black coffee table in my room, and it works like a dream. I received the highly anticipated computer package the previous day (Thursday) so I was still working on personalizing it and getting all my settings adjusted to my liking. Oh, I'll have you know that I set it up all by myself. I'm no slouch.

That being said, I spent a bit of time playing on the computer before I took off with Kristen to run some errands before the concert. I would just like to say that every time I drive around Arlington and the Pentagon and the Potomac it just renews my excitement for living in DC. We were just running an errand to Pentagon City and there was the Air Force Memorial, piercing the evening sky. That's probably my favorite memorial, by the way. It's so cool. Anyway, I saw that magnificent feat of engineering on my way to Costco. Costco is not a magnificent feat of engineering. It's more like a magnificent setting for organized chaos. It brought back so many memories of shopping with the 'rents at Sam's Club. Good times, good childhood. Okay, so after some errand running, Kristen and I stopped to pick up some dinner at Noodles & Co. (don't tell my P90X coach) before heading to the community center. We didn't think it would be a good idea to eat our smelly pasta dinners in the community center, so we sat at a picnic table in the park right outside and scarfed down our meals in the dark. We walked into the community center, found a seat near the back, and were promptly transported to a dream world of magic. Well, I certainly was.

IBIS is made up of 6 musicians: a string quartet, flutist, and harpist. All the musicians are employed either by the Kennedy Center Opera Orchestra or the Boston Esplanade POPS, or something like that. They're all professionals - that's the point. I heard a violin duo piece, string quartet pieces, a flute/harp duo, a harp solo (lovely piece by John Williams from Angela's Ashes), and a quintet arrangement of Mischief Managed from Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, also by John Williams. I LOVE JOHN WILLIAMS! Ahem. Anyway, it was great. It was free, it was musically sound, and it was creative. Me likey.

The rest of Friday night and Saturday passed in a blur of sleep, movie watching, computer playing-onning, and birthday partying. Sunday I arose for my first WMP orchestra. No, I wasn't nervous. I was too sleepy to be nervous. Plus, I sit at the back of the second violins. Not too much pressure there. However, I am pleased to announce that we had a good first show. The violins were a wee bit skimpy, seeing as how we were missing two of our first violins (that's what happens with a volunteer community orchestra), but we pulled it off. I heard nothing but good things from the audience members. The Hymn of Praise for chorus and orchestra, written by F. Mendelssohn, was really lovely. It's murder on the violinists to play. We have practically no breaks and consistent brush strokey 8th notes for pages on end. It's very exhausting. But I made it, sleep deprived as I was. And we get a second chance to make it even better when we perform the show again this coming Sunday. The WMP's season is comprised of 5 different programs. Each show is performed twice, once in Alexandria, VA, and once in DC. So this Sunday is the DC Sunday. After that, it's back to rehearsals for our Christmas concert. My favie! :) I mean, just yesterday I was making sure that all my Christmas CD's are in iTunes to make for the best Christmas playlist this town's ever seen.

By the way, it is very difficult to rebuild one's playlist when one's iPod has gone to iPod heaven. Actually, I wouldn't be surprised if my iPod was in purgatory with as much trouble as it gave me at the end of its life. I had some great music I'd downloaded from my brother and sister's computer and now it's all gone cause I never had the songs in my own song arsenal. Fool of a Took! Oh well, I'll build it back up again. No worries. That's what the iTunes store is for.

So that's that. I'm enjoying my new computer. Trying to find a Mac compatible webcam + mic so I can Skype my sister like it's my job. Oh, and I did get a call from the Alexandria, KY Police Department. "Oh, sorry about that. You can just disregard that citation. It shouldn't have even been mailed to you. Our systems were down that day so the officer wasn't able to verify the license plate at the time." All one big misunderstanding, folks. Happens to the best of us.

So this week I'm holding down the fort at the office, preparing myself to be a stellar volunteer at the Smithsonian's national board meeting this Thursday and Friday, and trying to finish my book for book club next week. Cheers, y'all!

Three-day Weekend

Yesterday I stayed in my pajamas all day. All day long I was in my pj's. Yesterday was Saturday, today is Sunday, and tomorrow...is Columbus Day. I would like to take this opportunity to thank Columbus for discovering land that eventually became this country. Without his dedication and hard work, I wouldn't have a holiday from work tomorrow. Boy am I glad for good ol' C.C. and his 1492 greatness.

As you might have guessed based on previous posts, I've had a fairly busy summer and fall. I've spent my time getting adjusted to life in DC/Arlington, and I've been fortunate enough to see some friends and family in the short time I've been here. Well, what with all the social activity I've had (cut to me, tooting my own horn) I needed a nice long weekend of doing nothing. What a delight it was yesterday to stay in bed all day, reading a book and watching movies and episodes of Friends. Oh, and occasionally going downstairs to get a chocolate chip cookie from the kitchen. But I'm getting a bit ahead of myself. I'll start with Friday.

My boss made my day on Friday when she told me I could slip out of the office early to start the weekend. I left at 4, much to my delight. I took the metro to Clarendon and realized I had enough time to stop by the post office before it closed. I'd planned to run this errand on Saturday, but since I was already out I figured I'd get it taken care of. I walked to the post office, crossing my fingers and hoping that the certified mail I was picking up was my stimulus check from the IRS. (The first one they sent me got lost in the mail during my move.) I walk up to the window and wait quite patiently as an employee rummaged through the postage bin. I opened the letter she presented me with, a bit surprised to see the return address, "Alexandria, KY, Police Department." According to the APD, I owe $50 for a parking citation I incurred on August 16th when I parked my green Dodge Dakota in a no-parking zone. Hmmmm. I definitely do not, nor have I ever, driven a green Doge Dakota. For my entire driver's life I've had my trusty little black Nissan Sentra. Also, I was not, nor have I ever been, in Alexandria, KY. Ever. I certainly wasn't there on August 16th. I was in DC. In a polite panic, I left a couple messages on various voicemails begging the administration in the police department to call me about this erroneous parking ticket. Bah! I anticipate that these good government people will have Columbus Day off, as I do, so hopefully Tuesday will be the day of reckoning when I take the Alexandria PD to task for its grave mistake.

The rest of Friday was peaceful. I watered the mums, I went through the mail, ate a giant homemade chocolate chip cookie and watched the series premiere of The Starter Wife. Brilliant! So then Saturday came along. I finished "The Sweet Far Thing" and was terribly disappointed by a cheap ending to an otherwise entertaining literary trilogy. I watched "Caramel" and was surprised at the mixture of Lebanese and French the characters spoke. Don't even ask me what I did with the rest of my day. I have no idea. But it was awesome.

Today I had orchestra rehearsal. We rehearsed with the chorus for the first time ever, and our first concert is a week from today. Yipes! It was a good rehearsal, though. Mendelssohn's Lobesgang (or something like that) is a really nice piece, though dreadfully long. My arms are aching by midway through. We had so much to go through today that we only had about a 7 minute break during our 3 hour rehearsal. Now that works out the arms. I came home from orchestra, and did what I normally do on Sunday nights: I got something to eat, talked to my roommates for a little bit and then put my last load of laundry in the dryer. I came upstairs and started preparing for slumber when I realized that I really don't have to do that. I get to sleep in AGAIN! Mwaaaaaahaahhahahahaha! So here I am at 11:30 on a Sunday night, still awake. Shocking, I know.

Tomorrow is supposed to be a beautiful day and I intend to take advantage of it. I might play some horrible tennis, maybe I'll go for a walk. There is this great island called Roosevelt Island (I think) on the Potomac River - it's a great place to go for a nature walk and enjoy the fresh air. Remind me to take you there when you visit. Anyway, there are numerous possibilities and I will explore all the options. Weee!

For those of you who don't have a 3-day weekend...sorry for your loss. For the rest of you, I wish you the best in all your endeavors. Hopefully they'll be as fun as mine. HA!

Random Updates, Commence!

Long time, no talkie. Er, readie. I don't know. I've been a busy bee, you might say. Doing what, you might say. I'll tell you, I'm saying.

See these lovely ladies sandwiching me in this picture? Erin (left) and Amanda (right) came to see me last week for a little sight seeing and DC/Arlington exploration during Amanda's fall break. I know these delightful people from my years in Lexington, and it was so much fun to have them in town. They got in on a rainy Wednesday night and left on a sunny, breezy Sunday afternoon. I'll have you know that I only missed one exit on the way to pick them up at BWI, and missed NO exits when I dropped them off on Sunday. Next time, I won't even need my Google map directions. Wabaaam! (By the way, in this picture we're standing in front of the Castle in the Haupt Gardens. I met them for lunch on Thursday and we were so happy we took a picture to commemorate the occasion.)


Unfortunately, I had to work on Thursday and Friday while Erin and Amanda frolicked about town. This week and last week are two of my office's busiest times during the year. With the fiscal year ending and reports and gift entry and blah blah blah, I couldn't take time off. My guests were quite resourceful and took advantage of those hours to visit museums, take a walking tour (DCbyfoot.com - I highly recommend it!), and do other general sight seeing things. When I left work, the fun began (for me) and I joined them for good times and great food. (In this picture, Amanda and I are pleased to be sitting next to one another on the Metro. Note, this is not the same moment as the one in which we entered the Metro car only to find a large pile of vomit on the floor.)

Thursday night Erin, Amanda and I ate homemade burgers and watched TV at the great 925. Saw a little Ugly Betty, a little VP debate. It was an eclectic evening. Spending the night in was nice and relaxing. I recommend it to a friend. Friday after work I met them outside the Castle and we walked to the Sculpture Garden across the Mall to listen to the final evening of Jazz in the Sculpture Garden. Every Friday night during the summer a live jazz band gives the good people of DC a treat for the ears. Many people bring picnic baskets full of goodies and just hang out around the garden, listening to good music. (Wow, say "good" more.) This Friday marked the end of the summer season for Jazz in the Garden, and it was a bit chilly outdoors. My friends and I didn't linger for two reasons: a. we were hungry, and b. the band was playing smooth jazz (not my favie). We ended up spending the evening in Clarendon - dining, meandering, shopping, and just enjoying my awesome neighborhood. Saturday we feasted on "Grandmother's Light Luscious Lovely Pancakes" and prepared ourselves for a day in the sun. We spent the afternoon exploring the Georgetown neighborhood. M Street is loooooong. From Georgetown we Metroed it to the U-Street neighborhood. We visited Cake Love (most delicious cupcakes ever, by the way), and ended up at this great restaurant called Islander Caribbean. This eatery holds a special place in my heart now because they serve mainly Trinidadian cuisine. I'd been wanting to try this place and Amanda and Erin were more than willing to be guinea pigs with me. We weren't disappointed. I mean, I had chicken roti and even a large glass of sorrell! Unfortunately, they were out of mauby, but the sorrell was pretty good. Ah, the motherland - Trinidad, how I love thee.


My visitors left me two days ago, and now I'm left to my own devices. Yipes. Well, technically I'm not on my own. I do live in a house with 4 other young women. Kristen (on my left), Bridget (right), Stacie and Bekah (not pictured) all keep it real with me at the 925. Work is keeping me busy, as I mentioned previously, and I like it. I work on gift entry and monthly reports and listen to my CDs (I have yet to replace my iPod) and pass the time quite productively.

Some of you might be wondering what I do in my free time. Well, you might not be wondering, but I don't really care. I'm telling you anyway, foo. You know how you don't necessarily have things scheduled when you're not working, but your time just gets gobbled up by random things for which you don't plan? Well, that's my story, too. I am in a book club and a community orchestra, so those things feature prominently in my planner. Other than that, though, I hang out. I read, cook dinner with Kristen (my fellow P90X-er), watch Dancing With The Stars, wander around Clarendon, etc. On weekends Kristen, Bridget and I will sometimes venture in to DC and tap into the night life. On Sundays I've been visiting The Falls Church and I'm enjoying it quite a bit. No, I don't practice during the week, though I'm hoping to change that soon. There is still a lot of DC that I want to explore and random tasks I must complete (like getting my VA license). There are always things to do, and I like that.



For the foreseeable future, 925 will no longer be featured as a bed n' breakfast for my friends/family. I'll miss the activity. Katie (left) and Alexandra (right) started things off with a bang in July. Together we saw the monuments (thanks to DC by Foot), the Capital (you can't miss it - it's right behind Katie and Alexandra), the Library of Congress (partially seen in the last picture), and plenty of museums (I highly recommend the Portrait Gallery and the National Museum of Art). DC is awesome!






Of course, now it's getting cooler and the drearier seasons are teasing us before blasting us full force with their chilly demeanors and harsh personalities. What? Anyway, I'll pack away the air mattress and stow away the extra metro cards I've accumulated until spring arrives and the weather is ripe for travel. If, dear reader, you do get the hankering to brave the elements and fly up for a weekend that air mattress is just a closet door away.

Now I'm looking forward to sweaters and hot chocolate and citrus tea and watching movies by the fake fire (that uses light to give the illusion of flame and puts out electric heat) and holidays and orchestra concerts. Plus, the countdown to seeing my family again has begun. Christmas 2008, woop woop! The end of the year will bring new responsibilities and challenges at work, no doubt. Plus, on the horizon I see a Coldplay Halloween concert, a trip to New Jersey to see the Williams for Thanksgiving, the Nutcracker, and a few Washington Metropolitan Philharmonic concerts. I think I've blogged on all the iconic events of the summer, so from here on out my posts will be all about the great leftovers I brought for lunch yesterday. Get ready :).

The Sweet 925

Welcome to my humble abode. Cozy, huh? This delightful residence is known to all privileged enough to live there as 925. See it there on the right pillar? I have lived in this house for almost three months now, but it feels like I've been here for years. In fact, the moment I saw this view from the street I knew I wanted to live in this house.

Throughout May and June I searched for reasonable places to live in the DC area. Not easy! I thought about living by myself for a while. Yeah, good luck with that, self. Sure I could live by myself if I wanted to pay out the nose for the tiniest place ever. (Pay out the nose? Really?! That's just unappetizing.) Or I could go with something a little more cockroach infested for a little less money. No, thank you. There is no shortage of available rooms/apartments in the DC metropolis, so I had no fear of finding a place to settle, but I did have a fear of finding a place that wasn't supremely awesome. Luckily, a friend of a friend who'd been in this area for a while sent me a couple links to church classifieds. I found a couple places to investigate through those sites, and one Sunday afternoon I walked up to 925 and fell head over heels in love with it.

Bekka met me at the front door, ushered me into the living room, and I was sold. I didn't even need to see the rest of the house. Don't worry, I saw the rest of it. The kitchen, the sitting room, the dining room, the back porch, the back yard, other people's rooms, the staircase, my future bathroom, my future room. Everything pleased me. The location was ideal. The house is located in the Clarendon neighborhood of Arlington, just 10 minutes away from the Orange line metro that takes me right into work every morning. Within a 7-10 minutes walk is a variety of shops and restaurants to please the pickiest of yuppies. I loved it! Oh, have I mentioned that the backyard is glorious? 'Cause it is. Glorious, I tell you. Plenty of space for BBQ parties and grilling with friends. And we roommates take full advantage of it, too. In fact, after meeting all the girls who lived in 925 they invited me to a BBQ they were having that weekend as a little get-to-know-you house party thing. I took my good-sport brother with me and we spent a lovely summer's eve dining with Arlington's finest. If I had any doubts to that point about moving in (which I didn't) they were gone. I knew this was the house for me.

Saturday, June 28th, Barron and I moved my stuff via U-Haul to 925. That day was a dark day, my friends. After throwing 'bows with the U-Haul people for a while in an attempt to get the van they'd promised me, Barron and I loaded up all my things from the Eisley's house and the storage unit. We drove to 925 and got out my mattress. We wanted to move the big stuff first, you see. What better piece of furniture to have in my room than my luxurious queen bed with pillow top mattress? HA! We brought up the bed frame with no trouble. Then we went back downstairs for the box springs. Evil, evil day. We tried for a full 45 minutes to get those stupid box springs up the stairs. There are scars on the wall and ceilings to prove it! We took off the banister, we changed positions, we readjusted. We theorized, we took the springs back to the first floor and tried again. We were famished, weak from all the lifting, and a bit testy (on my end, mostly). Plus, we'd gotten the mattress up the stairs cause it's all bendy and whatnot, but no box springs. There was just no feasible way to get those box springs up the stairs. I just about flipped my lid. What??? How is this possible? What am I going to do with my bed? I love my bed, what am I supposed to do, just forget it and get another bed? I don't want to spend money on a bed when I have the perfect bed right here, this is ridiculous, I will not cry I will not cry I will not cry. Barron, in his patience and wisdom, suggested that we take a look at the windows.
"Maybe the frame can fit through the window if we take off the screen."
"Um, yeah, okay Barron. That will never work."
"Well, let's take a break and eat some dinner and we'll tackle it after that."
Wise words. We ate, we watched some TV, and then we took up the box springs again to reattempt this impossible feat. Nope, still not working. Barron and I put down the springs and started measuring the windows. I knew that there was a master bedroom upstairs, and even though my other upstairs roomies had twins in their rooms, if there was a master bedroom upstairs there HAD to be a way to get a queen bed up there. Bingo!
"Barron! Barron! There's a door in the master bedroom that leads out to the roof!"

So what do you think happened next? You think all was easy from there, now that we knew how to get the bed to the second story? Oh, my naive friend, you couldn't be more wrong. The next problem was getting the springs on the roof. Plan A - Barron stands on lawn chair at side of house and he and I raise the mattress as far as we can to roof, he holds while I gallop upstairs to roof and pull mattress up, then he gallops to roof and helps me get it inside. We attempted Plan A and got as far as the me galloping part. Mid-gallop I hear Barron yell my name, then I hear a crash.
Plan B - ask neighbor for ladder and pretend not to be embarrassed by my disgustingness, put ladder at back of house where deck is, reattempt the raising bit and the galloping bit. So, we lifted, I galloped, I pulled, I held, he galloped, we pulled, and we got it inside. Oh, and then we had to finish carrying in all the rest of my junk because only big pieces go first. blah blah blah.

So that was moving day. After that I was in no rush to unpack my things and make my room presentable. I'd done enough work for about the next month, I reasoned. Well, eventually I did get my room in working order (in perfect time to welcome my first visitors, but more on that in another post). I am now happily settled in 925, enjoying life and loving my room.

I have 4 other roommates, two upstairs with me, and two downstairs. We have the usual shared common areas, and we coexist pretty well. Everyone is nice and respectful, so that's always a plus. We have flowers outside, our lawn is mowed regularly, I even cook my own meals for crying out loud. I have a cookbook and a box of recipes I've copied from my mom over the years, and I cook up a storm. Okay, I exaggerate. Not a storm. I cook up a windy day. Maybe 20mph. I'm learning, and that's the point. I've never been so domestic in my life, sheesh. But it's fun. This is a great place to come visit, friends. You'll love this house as much as I do. I have three testimonials from friends who've come to see me already. Wait, four testimonials, because Barron knows this place inside and out now. :)

Yesterday my roommate, Kristen, planted mums around the place so 925 is ready for fall. I'm going to break out the citrus tea soon and keep us stocked on that through the next two seasons. In fact, I think after I finish this I'll go sit out on the front porch and read my book.

Life in the 925 is great. I recommend it.

Whirlwind Week

Whew, it's been a while. Busy busy, people. Busy busy. Alas, it's Monday again and I'm sleepy. That always happens on Mondays.

I don't have a great deal to report, but here's a little of my-past-week-in-a-nutshell for you. Work: going well. The entry, the reporting, the reconciling, the clean up. It's all good. Don't know if I told you, but I'm on track to do a little professional development in the coming year by way of a gift processing/database management conference. Yes, my first conference. This won't happen for a while, mind you, but I've never traveled for work before and it's quite exciting. I digress. The most exciting thing about work this past week was that it all helped lead me up to the weekend. My friend Sarah from Trinity (and UK) was flying in Friday evening and we were going to spend the whole weekend celebrating our sweet reunion (and her birthday, which is in a couple weeks). Since her plane was arriving at 6pm, I really didn't want to drive in crazy traffic to BWI airport. Therefore, I needed to leave work early Friday to catch the MARC train to the airport. I worked out a deal with my boss and, like the good employee that I am, I stayed late Monday-Thursday of last week so that I could leave early on Friday.

Ah, riding the MARC train. I've done it once before when I met a friend in Baltimore, and it's not too complicated a thing. Well, apparently in DC getting anywhere for me is complicated. I got to Union Station by Metro just fine. Metro's old hat by now. I got to Union Station and almost bought myself an AMTRAK ticket instead of a MARC ticket. Luckily I realized my mistake before I pressed "confirm." Then, I tried to get on the wrong train leaving the station. I knew I was taking the Penn Line north to BWI. I knew that a train going to BWI was leaving in 20 minutes, but THEN I saw a sign for another Penn Line train leaving in 4 minutes and I thought, well might as well catch an earlier train. Thank goodness I asked an employee if that was the best idea. "No. This train doesn't stop at BWI." Okay then. Now, fyi, everyone stands in this roped area and waits for the platforms to be posted for their respective trains. Once a platform pops up on the screen, there is a mad dash towards it so people can get the best seat possible. This is helpful for those of us who don't really know what we're doing. That way we can just follow the crowd and hopefully end up in the right place. Gate A, Platform 9. Done-zo. I was out the door with those people as fast as I could shove myself through the throng. Far north end of platform, far north end of platform. Wait, people are getting on the various cars and there are less and less people in front of me going to the north end of the platform. Ooo! There's someone with a bag - must be going to BWI. I'll follow her. Okay, I'm on the train and I'm going to ask her if this train goes to BWI. Before I can get out the words, she asks me, "Is this the right train for BWI?" Oh crap. "Um, actually I was going to ask you the same thing. I'll go ask these other women behind me." Walk, walk, walk. "Is this the train to BWI?" "I sure hope so," the woman says. I reported the good tidings to my fellow confusee and sat down. Yes, I was on the right train. However, I wasn't in the right car. BLERG! The conductor punches my ticket and tells me I have to go two cars back to get off at BWI. Oh the intricacies of riding the rail! Fine. I go back two cars. This turned out to be quite nice, because I got to sit behind this young couple speaking to one another in rapid French. I picked out a few phrases..."pas du tout" (not at all)...wait, maybe I just picked out the one phrase. Can't remember. Anyway, I made it to the BWI stop. Got off the train. Walked around the parking garage for five minutes until I realized that I had to take a shuttle from the garage to the airport. And then, finally, I arrived at BWI.

You know those scenes from Love Actually at Heathrow airport? The ones of actual people greeting loved ones at the arrival gate? Well, that's what was in my head the whole time I was standing at the arrival gate, waiting for Sarah. I hadn't seen her since our friends' wedding in May, so we did the whole jump-up-and-down, clap-our-hands, squeal-like-little-girls, hug-80-times thing that people do when they're super excited to see each other. We drew stares. And smiles, of course. I am happy to report that we had no mishaps on our train ride home to Clarendon. It was smooth sailing all the way.

The rest of the weekend was a blur. I remember it all, thank you very much. It was a blur because it went by so quickly! Way too quickly for my taste. Honestly, I was a bit nervous about being the hostess in a city I don't know very well. I wanted to show Sarah DC and all the excitement it has to offer, but I didn't even know all the excitement it has to offer. Well, luckily we were both in an adventurous mood and explored the city together. And what good luck we had! We had DC-intuition every time we decided to try something new. On that note, we ate at this great French Caribbean restaurant in Dupont that I recommend to all. It's on P street. Cafe Troupe or something? I don't know! Look it up! Anyway, it was fun. Another Trinity alum lives in the city and was celebrating his birthday on Saturday night, so we got to hang out with him and it was delightful. Impromptu birthday festivities lead to good times. It wasn't so much impromptu for him, of course. But for us, it was practically a surprise party cause we didn't see it coming until it happened.

Overall, the weekend was a success. Good times, good friends, new friends, good food, good music. Noodle salad. (As Good As It Gets reference? Anyone?) I was so sad to see Sarah go, but I got to see her for about half an hour longer than we'd planned because I got lost THREE TIMES driving to the airport on Sunday. 3X. That, plus the three traffic jams we ran into, was not awesome. I don't usually get lost so badly, and it was pretty annoying that I made the same loop twice. When you're trying to get on 295 N, it's best not to take the 295 S ramp. I'm just saying. Fortunately, Sarah had her trusty work-given Blackberry with its GPS. So we eventually found our way. And I even got her to the airport on time, left for orchestra, had to stop and get gas, didn't get lost on the way to Alexandria for rehearsal, and made it there just 10 minutes late. Good, no? I think so. And for those of you visiting in the future, I now know how to get to BWI. I can't promise it will be perfect next time (sorry, Amanda), but it will be a lot less lost! Actually, now that I know to take the left fork like I'm getting on 95, I'm good! Stupid highway signs...or lack thereof.

So there you have it. Oh, for future reference, when I say that I don't have much to report don't believe me. Apparently I'll eek out every detail of an event to give you the most post possible :). It's what I do. I'm wordy. Deal. Now it's Monday again and the past three days seem like a dream. A beautiful dream. And I didn't even take any pictures to memorialize it. Yes, I had my camera. Yes, I forgot to use it. So you must be content with my fascinating description of these things. ha.

Have a good week, my friends. I miss you all!

Labor Day Weekend

Virginia Beach. Oh the sand, the surf...and the seaweed. Kid you not, even yesterday I was brushing the stuff out of my hair. Not awesome. Nonetheless, I was one of the lucky few--er, lucky thousands--who got to spend the holiday weekend at the beach with friends.

The two young ladies you see with me traveled from Lexington to VA Beach to run the RocknRoll VA Beach 1/2 Marathon. Sadly, Julia (right) broke her foot and couldn't participate. So she and I cheered on Elissa (center...oh wait, nope) and Julia's brother (far left, no, farther, no, farther), who ran in her stead. I met up with my old pals to hang out with Julia's family in Portsmouth, VA and enjoy the ocean.

Julia's brother, sister-in-law, and two nephews live about 35 minutes away from the beach, so I got to have a nice pleasant weekend without having to be smack on the dirty shores all the time. No offense! I got to play trains, cars, eat good home cooked meals, play bounce-the-ball-off-my-bum with 4 yr. old kids in the park (their idea, not mine) and take relaxing neighborhood walks. I watched a little Thomas the Train (or is it Thomas the Tank Engine?), a little Ocean's 11, and some Knight's Tale. Eclectic, no?

I had a great time catching up with my buddies from Lexington. I got some good sun. Oh, and I attempted the art of body surfing. By day 2, I became fairly adept. I'm guessing that's why the seaweed stayed with me for so long. The icing on the cake was cheering those dedicated marathoning souls who push their bodies to the limit for the glory of my praise. No, that wasn't it. Oh right - they got free foot massages afterward.

The beach was super crowded, but it was still great to be in the ocean again. I haven't had much opportunity to play mermaid in my life, but I still have a heart for the sea, matey. I'm going to credit my Trinidadian roots with that one. The water was cold, but after several squeals and wave splashes my friends and I were comfortable enough to swim out to the best body surfing waves. For those of you who don't know, when you body surf you have to wait for a good wave to come up right behind you. Then, right before it breaks, you start swimming away from it. The wave chases you, if you will. If you've timed it right, you only have to take a couple strokes, the wave breaks, and the current carries you to shore. Now, this can be a problem when it carries you so far that your hands and elbows are scraping the bottom of the ocean and your suit bottoms are filling with sand. Don't worry, those minor details don't dampen the spirits of the true Oceanites. Yeah, I made it a word.

It's been hard to come back to work this week, actually, because I had so much fun away from it. It wasn't too difficult to get back in the sleep routine that I keep during the week, fortunately. I credit a 2.5-year-old and 1-year-old boy with that. Their hours were pretty much 8-7 every night, so my hours were about 9:30-7. Hey, not my usual vacation/weekend schedule but it gave me enough time during the day to really enjoy the sunshine. Were I to have practiced my normal routine, I would have been sleeping between the hours of 1am and Noon. Quite fun, I assure you, but not the best when you're wanting prime beach hours and sunlight. In short, I couldn't have planned a better weekend.

Now it's almost another weekend and I'm trying to figure out how productive I'll be. I've put off getting my VA license for 3 months, so I should probably do that. Uh huh, grocery shopping, post office...prolly should get a haircut. Just talk to me next week. I guarantee you I'll have only read, slept, ate and watched movies all weekend. I love my life.

P90X

Oh good grief. I'm sore.

Let's see here...we often find ourselves less than pleased with our physical form, right? "Oh if I could only change that [body part]." "Yeah, I should eat better." "Well it's the new year, hope I don't break that workout resolution." Blerg.

Well, friends, a couple months ago - in a fit of insanity, I might add - two of my roommates and I were trying on clothes at the mall. Well, one of us was. The other roomie and I were giving feedback to the third and chatting calmly about how annoying it is to try on clothes that don't fit like they used to. "Yeah, I really need to start working out more," someone says regretfully. "Oh, me too!" I might have chimed in. "I hate my muffin top!" another cries mournfully. Normally these conversations are harmless. They're almost standard for friends trying on clothes. Well what happened next changed the course of my Fall forever. "Have you heard of this thing called P90X" asked a roommate. I answered in the negative. Ha! Now I know. Oh now I know.

After that shopping trip those two ladies and I decided that the three of us would purchase the P90X workout/nutrition packet and start getting our bodies in shape. A friend of ours had been doing the same program, so we borrowed the materials to see what we were getting ourselves into. Yipes! I tried to back out no fewer than three times in the hour we were looking at these books. It looked way too hard core. Sure, the before and after pictures were impressive. Yes, I knew that it would ultimately be a good thing for me. But no, I did not want to throw out my mac and cheese and start eating soy nuts! NO! Needless to say (which is weird, cause I'm saying it), I caved. My roommates convinced me that accountability is better in numbers. If we didn't do it together, we wouldn't do it at all. Bah humbug.

It is now day 5 of P90X and all my muscles ache. Why oh why did I commit to something so good for me??? Fool of a Took. Anyhoo, it's happening. And to tell you the truth, it's kind of exciting. I lied. It's not exciting. It's encouraging. There is a workout video for 6 days of the week. (I'm taking off a couple days to go the beach this weekend...oops.) And there is a whole nutrition book full of different types of food and recipes for eating the right stuff. Let me tell you, the food part isn't as bad as I thought. Ish. My roommate, Kristen, and I went grocery shopping and have been having breakfasts of egg white scrambles and turkey bacon mcmuffins. (Yes, Barron, I will call it a McMuffin despite the fact that I didn't make it in a McDonald's kitchen.) We've been having dinners of roast pepper soup and grilled steak salad and marinated chicken and steamed veggies. I've been snacking on turkey jerky and yogurt and, of course, soy nuts. It's not half bad. Plus, it really really helps that I have someone to help hold me accountable for the workouts and food intake.

Okay, honestly this thing is way too hardcore for my lazy sensibilities. It's only day 5 and I have 85 more days of this nonsense. (If you haven't calculated already, that means I'm done before Thanksgiving. God bless good timing!) But I committed and I'm doing it. And when I laugh I feel muscles I forgot existed. And when Tony Horton asks me to do 8 more reps of blah blah blah I want to scream. But they tell me it's worth it. And they're right, I suppose. But, dear reader, feel for me. Pray for me. Give me a back rub, for crying out loud. This is an exercise in discipline and I will succeed!

Oh, and don't ask me about my progress. That just puts more pressure on me to stick this thing out. Blerg.

P.S. And you thought I'd put a picture of myself on this post. HA!