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.