Too Hot to Trot

T-day. It happened. It was awesome. My pumpkin pies were delicious. Okay, they weren't perfection. To be quite honest, the crust (I made from scratch) was overdone and the filling was made with Splenda cause I was too lazy to go to the store for real sugar. However, I worked with what I had and it turned out just fine. Fine enough for me to have consumed almost a whole pie in the span of four days. Boy did I eat. But that's for later. For now I relate to you the semi consecutive adventures of the Thanksgiving weekend.

Wednesday was pure bliss because The Secretary let all us non-essential Smithsonian workers out three hours early. Now that's what I'm talking about. Thanks, G. Wayne! You're a good man, Charlie Brown! So Wednesday I got home, made some pies, made some pizza pie with Roomie B and just hung out like it was my job. However, I couldn't get too rowdy because I was poised to wake up at 6:30 AM Thanksgiving morning to drive out to Centreville, VA, for the Virginia Run Turkey Trot 5K. Me and the two Roomies B & K were running proudly as the PHC (penthouse club - cause we all live on the second floor of our house, natch). Disclaimer - I'm NOT a runner! I know I've mentioned this mutliple times in the past, but let me reiterate. I'm not a runner, peeps. I had never in my life run a full 3.2 miles and I did not anticipate starting on Thanksgiving morning. My last and only other 5K took me about 48 minutes or so cause I walked half the time. So I wasn't about to run the whole thing this time. And let me tell you something else, I made it known. I used every opportunity to let my patient roommates know that I was not going to be fast and that I wasn't expecting them to wait on me because I was such a turtle and blah blah blah. Of course, they were too nice to listen to my not-so-subtle hints and they stuck with me. They even refuse to acknowledge that they would have had a much faster finish time if they hadn't been tracking with me. So kudos to those angels of mercy. And you know what? I ran it. R-A-N it. The whole thing!!! 3.2 miles!!! I didn't walk ONCE! WHO LET THE DOGS OUT?????

Um, seriously. I was so impressed with me that I couldn't handle it. Well, not whilst I was running, but rather once I could see the finish line. I wasn't impressed with me when I was having fantasies of falling and breaking my ankle so someone would have to carry me the rest of the way. I had all sorts of beautiful daydreams about maiming my legs or falling over crying or something - anything so that I wouldn't have to run the rest of the way. And I am such a BORE when I run! Okay, a Scrooge. Not even a bore, but a straight up Scrooge. I can't think about anything else but the movement of my legs and arms and I really have to concentrate so that I don't wimp out every other 2. So I can't be all jovial and talky and laughy like my roommates who are in much better shape than I. They were making jokes and being fun and then there was me, trudging slightly behind them, the biggest frown on my face the whole time. Breathe in, two three, and OUT, two three, and IN two three, and OUT two three. And spit. (And don't try to give me advice on the whole "mental" aspect of running and all that hooey. I don't care. It sucks.) And I feel every stomp I make on that pavement. So if you ever ask me to go on a run with you, beware, I'm grumpy. Oh, but everyone else was having a good time. There were over 4,300 runners out that day, many with turkey hats and some in costume and all with smiles on their faces. Ugh, happy runners. But let me tell you, when I saw that finish line and realized that I really could handle running the entire way I started sprinting. I looked at K & B like yes-let's-do-this-thing (and they were probably surprised that I remember how to be a pleasant person) and then we all started cheetah-ing towards the finish line. Made the trek in 34:41. HUZZAH! My mood lightened considerably from that point on.

So after that bout of pure awesomeness (on everyone's part - thanks again to the angels of mercy for their great patience and forbearance...and my guardian angel who was keeping my lungs pumping the whole time with no help from me) we got a little Starbucks to celebrate and Roomie K and I headed to Fairfax, VA, for Thanksgiving dinner at her parents house. Good times, noodle salad. Well, no noodle salad, but plenty of other good food. Kristen and I actually cooked the turkey ourselves. I know! What a weekend of firsts. Pies, miles, poultry. The rest of T-day was spent indulging in good food and drink, laughing with friends and playing board games. That night Roomie K and I headed home with great plans to sleep as long as possible until sometime the next day.

Friday = BLISS! I did nothing. Repeat (w/ slight alteration): practically nothing. Unfortunately woke up earlier than I'd hoped, 8:30 ish, but spent the rest of the day lounging in the library, reading, eating pie, watching movies, and not venturing outside at all. All in my pj's. Well, until about 7 or so at night. By the way, I'm rereading Mansfield Park and I love it. I want to read it aloud to myself in a terrible British accent but that would be weird cause other people would hear me. It made me reminisce about the first time I realized that I loved Jane Austen. It was Aunt Jan and Auntie Beverly who got me hooked on the Austen. Shout out! Anyhoo, Friday night Roomie K and I decided we simply must have a Christmas tree. We went to our favorite local Home Depot and got this precious little fir tree just right for our library. We decided not to decorate until the morrow, read some more, and retired for the night.

Saturday morning I woke up to go see Uncle Cracker at 9. He popped my back and put those electrode thingies on my back again. They make my muscles spazz a little, so it'd be kind of funny to see me, face down on the table, my shoulders popping and locking to an unheard beat. I kind of laughed at me. He says I'm doing well and that my appointments can be more spread out. I say, no thanks. I'm not a repeat doctor visitor. In fact, I'm hardly a doctor visitor at all. His staff should anticipate me calling to cancel my next appointment and then never calling back to reschedule. My back feels good and I'm done with doctor visits for 2009 (*knock on wood*).

Saturday early afternoon I was off to Baltimore with Roomie K and her mom to check out an antiques place in the former industrial district of the city. (It's called Housing Werks or something like that for all you Google fiends.) The stuff there wasn't very appealing because it was all very unfinished and haphazardly strewn about, but the building was impressive and it was cool to imagine how I'd use the old circus sign in my new cool industrial-style decorated house with exposed brick and contemporary furniture. Or whatever. Next stop, B-more's Little Italy for lunch at Cafe Gia. Delicious sausage ravioli. Yum. Then a little walk to Fell's Point and the drive back to DC. The rest of Saturday we spent shopping for shoes (not I, I was just the encourager), buying Christmas decorations, and trimming the tree. I haven't taken any pictures yet, but you won't even be able to handle how amazing my house is with lights on the front porch and the tree twinkling in the light of a thousand electric faeries. I'll take some pictures and post them soon. Get ready, for you will be smitten.

Sunday was church, crying toddlers snotting all over my nice navy sweater (cute little tykes with their oh-so-believable crocodile tears), another run, and a Messiah sing. I will expound on the last two items.

Alright, I know that it's not polite or very Christ-like to brag. Jesus could probably do the Ironman and win and he'd be like, "Oh it's no big deal, it was God, not me." Well I'm hardly that free of pride. I mean, I just can't believe that I can run at all, especially because I fantasize about broken bones the whole time I'm doing it. But on Sunday I ran 3.5 miles. The whole thing. No walking. Yes, pride. I'm suffering from it. Whilst running I thought it might be nice if I accidentally stepped off the pavement and twisted my ankle. I thought maybe I could come up with some excuse to start bawling on the trail and wail that I just "couldn't do it anymore." But Roomie K has the patience and encouragement of a saint. She said, "we've hit 30 minutes so let's run till 40" and because she was being nice enough to keep pace with me I thought I'd throw her a bone and not break my leg on purpose. No pun intended. And because I knew I'd run for almost 35 minutes just a few days before I knew that I actually could do it. So I've accomplished my one running goal I've ever had in my life. I can now run a 5K. In fact, I signed up for another one in a couple weeks. WHO AM I??? I'm so NOT a runner, and don't you DARE try to get me to train for anything that has "thon" at the end of it because I might cut you. I guess since it's not killing me, it's making me stronger. Who knew? Ugh.

Oh, and the Messiah sing. You ever been to one of these before? I never had. I walk by the Clarendon United Methodist Church everyday on my way to/from the metro stop and I noticed they were having a Messiah sing on the night of the 29th. I though, fun! I like to sing things about God during Christmas! (And also the rest of the year, thank you very much.) But I had no idea that when they say Messiah Sing they mean that they'll furnish the soloists and instrumentalists and that YOU are the choir. The audience was the choir! I had no clue! And it was pure a-w-e-s-o-m-e! Oh man, I loved it. It was like being in choir again. We sang Part I of the Messiah, and the "Hallelujah Chorus" as the encore. I sang soprano. Um, those parts are really hard. Why was it cool at the time to string 96,000 sixteenth notes together on one syllable? "And he shall puri-fyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!!!" Handel was all about the melismas, I guess. And I didn't hit every high A, or the one high b-flat, but I got most of them. And I guess I was singing kind of loud cause the people in front of me noticed. Oops. Sorry, I got too excited! They're finishing up Parts II and III in April with another sing-a-long, so I'm definitely going back for that.

So there, that was my weekend. Lots of words to describe what now seems like just a few short hours. But I'm back at work and preparing for my performance review tomorrow morning (gag). But three weeks from tomorrow I will be winging my way to Tulsa. There's something to look forward to :).

Runner out.

Uncle Cracker

A.k.a. Sir Cracks-A-Lot, a.k.a. Sir Backs-A-Lot, a.k.a. MC Cracker. I am, of course, referring to my chiropractor. Yes, I have a chiropractor. As of yesterday morning I have officially been back-cracked. Why, you ask? I'll tell you. Because I'm old. Yup. 26 years old and I can't even handle the age old combination of moving houses and sleeping on an air mattress. Why the face?!

Last week my back was all ouchy-ouchy and I didn't think much of it. I figured it was a pulled muscle from moving or something and blah blah I'm a nubile young woman and I can handle it. WRONG! All of a sudden I'm doing the most boring thing in the world - sitting at my desk - and I don't want to sit anymore...because I'm old and I have back pain! ACK! Lame! That was Friday, so I went home early and laid around. Then Saturday I laid around. Then Sunday I went to church and helped out with the little kiddies cause I thought I was better. WRONG! Seriously, how old am I? Who knew you had to bend over so much and crawl around and pick things up when you're watching toddlers? Okay, I always knew, but I never paid attention. I'll tell you what, you'll start paying attention when your back is hurting. Lame!

Monday I made a decision. No more. I was going to the doctor. Please understand, I don't go to the doctor. I'm one of those people who doesn't even have whatever yearly physical/check-up thingies you're supposed to get because I can't be bothered to make an appointment. I'm that lazy. So actually calling up Bacman and making an appointment was a strong statement in my book. Don't get me wrong, I like going to the doctor's office. It usually means I can sleep in and miss part of work and read magazines I normally don't purchase for myself--no, not celebrity gossip, geez!! But whatevs. By Monday night I was having difficulty bending over the sink to brush my teeth so it needed to happen.

Tuesday morning I woke up, struggled to put my socks and shoes on on account of my old lady back, and drove to Vienna, VA, for a little chiropractor action. On a side note, when you go to anyone for a problem about which he/she knows more than you and he/she says "wow" more than once in relation to said problem, how does that make you feel? I mean, Uncle Cracker was all, "Wow, your back is really tight." I'm all, "Yup." Then he's making me lie on my side so he can crack my spine and he yanks and we hear a stream of pops from my neck to my...um...end of my spine. He says, "Whoa." I mean, if Sir Cracks-A-Lot is saying "whoa" then I must have a back in need of cracking, right??

Well you'll be happy to know that I'm fine. Nothing's outrageously wrong with ol' Backy. But this old grey mare just ain't what she used to be. Growing up. Bah! I try to reject thee but I can't! Again, don't get me wrong - I like the real world. Ergo, I generally like being an adult. I definitely like birthdays and welcome each new one with great fervor! But the part I could live without is this kind of stuff - the aches and the pains and the lower metabolism and the ever decreasing ability to stay up all hours of the night. BORING!

You know what else is boring (not really cause it's delicious) and grown up? I'm making a pumpkin pie for T-day. Yeah. Who does that? Okay, I know like a billion people do that, but I've never done it. I'm even planning on making my own crust. Don't laugh! I've made a crust before, you Doubting Thomas(es). When it happens I'm going to take a picture and post it and rub it in your face(s). Mwaaaahahahahaha!!!

So that's my Uncle Cracker story. Oh! Follow up. I'm going back on Saturday. Just to make sure things are going well. I hope he hooks me up to that electo-machine thingy again. That was cool. But I'm feeling better already. I have greater range of movement and all that jazz. I brushed my teeth last night with very little pain. Ha! What an oldie.

Bye.

It's What's On The Inside That Counts

This, my friends, is my favorite part of the new house -- the doorbell. Isn't it magnificent? You crank it. And it's loud and sounds like a real bell. That's mainly because it IS a real bell. Booyah! So I finally got around to taking pictures of the new house and here they are for your viewing pleasure. We're getting pretty settled at 107, but we don't have everything exactly as we want it. More pictures need to be hung and more boxes need to be moved, but we're closer than we've ever been before and that's just plain exciting. Welcome to my humble abode. Join me on this virtual tour, won't you?


Though my second favorite part of the house is the front porch swing, my favorite room in the house is the library. It could function as an office, I suppose, but I find it best suited to displaying books and housing overstuffed chairs. The other night I sunk into one of those chairs and just sat for minutes on end. Thirty-ish minutes, I believe. The room is so snug and inviting that I couldn't make myself get up. I wasn't even doing anything, just sitting and staring and the books and knick knacks. Brikabrak. (How do you spell that? It doesn't have a red squiggly line under it, so I guess that's right. Ahem, moving on.)


James, our butler, took up residence in the library as he, too, knows the true value of a good book. Above James' head you can see the Hands-On-The-Wall project that adorned a living room wall in the old residence. Also, below you'll see my section of shelves in the library. (It's the one column containing all the Harry Potters, the Twilight series (don't judge me!), and other books that might not be quite as recognizable from a distance. Don't worry, all my Jane Austens are there, too. Literature!) That's what I was staring at so long the other night. So cozy.

Follow me, please into the dining room. Keep in mind, I'm not conducting this tour in house layout order, but in order of...um...uhhhhh....in order of whatever I want. Next, dining room. As you can see, it is fit for the dining and the eating of the food and the drinking of the juice.

It's boring, but it's my life. You can see through the dining room into the kitchen. This is the view from the living room, by the way. Exciting stuff. Now please turn your attention to the pantry. You might think this pantry looks oddly like a bookcase. You are correct. This is what you do when your kitchen's too small to house all your ingredients.

Now we're ready to venture into the kitchen, lovely room that it is. It's a bit smaller than our last one, but it's homey and cute so I love it. I've made a couple batches of citrus tea on that stove already. Yummm. Wait, why am I not drinking some right now? Worry not, that shall be remedied shortly. In fact, you should be drinking a piping hot mug of citrus tea at this very moment. It will only increase the enjoyment you inevitably receive from taking my house tour. Ha!




In this new kitchen we were finally able to get out the coffee/espresso machine that Roomie K bought off our neighbors over a year ago. The neighbors had never used it, and we hadn't either, so it was just like getting a new kitchen appliance. Weee! Except, um...I don't know how to use it. And no, I haven't read through the instructions yet. Someone want to give me the Cliffs Notes version? I mean, look at this thing! It's daunting! Intimidating!

Now that it's out for use I guess I'll have to figure out how it works. The coffee part is pretty self-explanatory. The espresso/steamer/cappucino part will come in time. I hope. I took this picture of our dishwasher because I like the magnet we have on there. Plus, I was in picture-taking mode and couldn't be stopped.

I mean, who doesn't want one of these magnets on your dishwasher? You'll never question the status of your dishes again. That's a lie, you'll still question it, especially if you forget to the rotate the magnet after a wash.

From the kitchen you can see this lovely view of the downstairs bedroom, yet to be occupied.

Now that you've seen the most important parts of the downstairs, I'll take you upstairs to show you my greatest accomplishments. First of all, the bathroom. Might sound weird, but this was the most frustrating room in the house. Wanna know why? I don't really care, cause I'm just going to tell you anyway. The owner of the property never had a shower curtain on this bathroom. She just used the hand held shower head and somehow avoided getting water everywhere when she used it. Not so for us. We tried with the no-shower-curtain business and failed. Water was everywhere. For almost a week, water was everywhere. And we couldn't just get any regular shower curtain, noooooo, because the width of the curtain space was 76 inches. And standard curtain rods are how long? 72 inches! We checked out Target, we went to Home Depot. The boisterous man there told us we should get some anchors that we could attach to the walls using Scotch double-sided indoor/outdoor tape and then we could put an extendable rod between the anchors and presto-change-o! So we tried that. Tried being the operative word. We got it secured, we got the shower curtains up after many minutes of pressing those anchors into the tape into the wall as hard as we could. We took pictures of our success and went to work on our bedrooms. CRASH! Half an hour later, the curtain rod had fallen. Horse apples! We weren't allowed to drill anchors in to the wall, so we next went online to find a long enough tension rod. We found some possibilities. No need to purchase, though, because Bed Bath & Beyond saved the day! Really! We were there buying some other things for the house when we stopped by the shower rod section and what do you know? -- there was an 82" tension rod. Haaaaallelujah! Thanks, B B & B. And I really think God placed that curtain rod there just for us. When we took it up to the checkout counter, the employee told us that they usually don't have extra long curtain rods. Huzzah! We can now walk into our bathroom without trodding on saturated rugs.

Here's my room. It's cozy and I like it. Nothing too exciting in here, but it was clean so I took a picture. Sadly, I think I'll have to make my bed nearly everday because when you walk into the house and look upstairs you can totally seen in my room. Ugh! Oh well, it will give me motivation (we hope) to keep my room tidy and presentable.

So that's pretty much the house. It's home. I didn't think anything could compare to 925 because that house was amazing. I was sure that when we moved we'd have to downgrade and just make the best of it. Pshaw! Like I know anything. This house is miraculous. We even have a Cardinal that likes it so much he tries to get inside everyday during all the daylight hours. Poor little thing must have had 985 concussions by now, banging his red head into the windows all the day long.

Well, that's it, folks. Now that the housing search and move are finally over, I'm setting my sights on the holidays. Thanksgiving's in less than two weeks (craziness!) and Christmas is just around the corner. And it's really time to be thinking about all the great Christmas decorations this new house deserves.

Hopefully you'll be hearing from me soon. The past month and a half haven't been conducive to much blogging, unfortunately. I feel like I haven't had many spare minutes. But, no more moving for now and I FINALLY got my room together. So here's to blogging and much egg nogging in the future! Cheers!