The Cake that Took the Cake

I missed a February post by that much. Blimey. Oh well, I prefer March to February anyway - now that I don't get Presidents' Day off from work. Happy March! Beware the Ides of it! Aaaaand scene.

I've been home over a month now. Can you believe it? I can't. I left Arlington, VA, on January 24th and arrived in Tulsa on January 25th. I think we can all agree that I've been home over a month. And this week will be my fourth on the job. How did I get so Tulsan again so quickly? I don't know where the time went, but I'll tell you this: I'm loving it. Who knew I'd be back on the streets of Tulsa - driving, not walking, as this is no pedestrian city - and so happy to see that Taco Cabana and that Panera bread and that ORU?! It is good to be home again.

Alright, I'm going to insert my foot into my mouth RIGHT NOW and tell you what my goals are for this year in Tulsa. Yes, please remind me of these in 9 months and listen to my sob stories of how I just couldn't quite get them all accomplished. Whatever. Here we go: I want to take violin lessons again, I want to learn to cook more foods, I want to pick up this physical fitness thingy again and I want to spend more time poolside during the warmer months. My first goal isn't set in stone, but I would love to be a sub again for the Tulsa Signature Symphony. I did that when I was living here last and it was great fun. Plus, this October my dad and brother will performing with the symphony, and it'd be jolly good to play with them. I told my mom I wanted to learn to cook more and I'm worried that will be interpreted as let-me-cook-for-you-often. Nope! I just want to try new recipes and...okay, that does sound like let-me-cook-for-you-often. Okay, maybe I'll start trying one new recipe a week. Geez, I should just take some initiative. I'm not shaking on it!

Alright, here's the rub with the physical fitness thing. I really have to do it. Problem! I don't walk everywhere anymore. In DC I walked two miles everyday just to get to and from the metro. I canceled my gym membership because that was enough of a work out for me in the winter months. Well, now I'm driving everywhere AND sitting at a desk all day AND sitting on my couch at night to (re)read Harry Potter. But how to get motivated to pick up those running shoes again? Maybe look in the mirror. Ha! Self-deprecating humor! It's like I'm hilarious and British! Anyway, that's a goal. March is a good time for this. Perhaps I'll pair that goal with giving up something junk foody for Lent. Perhaps.

Finally, let's spend some time at the pool, people. I don't have one, but I know people. I have pool connections. I just have to milk them for all they're worth. Not that I'm using anyone. Aaaand scene.

You know, I've found myself a lot busier than I thought I'd be upon returning home. For some reason I had this expectation that I'd be home every night, wondering what activities I should get involved in so I could "plug in" to the community. I guess that's been my task the last two moves I've made (i.e. Kentucky and DC), so I assumed the same would go for Tulsa. Nerd. How about all the friends I haven't seen in ages? How about the musical events I attend because I'm finally in the same city where my dad and brother play? How about it?! Maybe that's why this month flew by...

Alright, I have a cake story, slash explanation for the picture that won't seem to copy and paste to the bottom of this post. My Sunday school class made a cake to auction off at the annual FUMC Birthday Banquet, an event to raise money for youth missions. Not only were we making a cake to raise money for the youth, we were making a cake to win the "Best Cake" prize. Last Saturday we gathered, tools in hand, to make a penguin and his igloo look impressive. We even incorporated a class "uniform" into our presentation. Gotta admit, victory tastes sweet.

Hot Suey

Dagnabit it's hot around here. Whew! Spring is here...except summer's really trying to barge its way in before Spring's even had one spin around the dance floor. Nosy season.

Nonetheless, I am LOVING this weather change. I've been in the best mood for about three weeks now and it's all because of the weather. Lies, all lies. It's not all because of the weather. I've also entertained three out-of-town visitors, started grilling out again, and checked a few things off my "Bucket List." Okay, okay...I realize that my brother takes great issue with this term. He thinks it's too morbid. If anyone has a suggestion for what I can call my Two-months-goals list then please, by all means, give me a shout. Until then, I'll be (semi) satisfied to just call it "The List."

Here's what I've checked off The List for the past couple weeks - cooking (check), exercising (mostly check), being social (checkity check-check-a-roony) and, ummmmmmmm don't know what else. If you'll recall, these are all things I thought I'd have trouble doing during these two months of solitude-ish. Turns out my fears were unfounded. I've had one of the busiest springs I can remem--nope, scratch that. Two springs ago when I was writing my thesis - THAT was a crazy busy spring. But since that time I haven't had such a busy spring. Until now. Whatever.

My church is in the process of moving into a new facility, so I've spent a couple nights this week painting and moving furniture and organizing toys and getting the place ready for our first services there this Sunday. I'll be back there this weekend, too, making sure everything's in order. We won't be meeting in the movie theater anymore. I'm a little sad about that, even though I did see a mouse in the theater that one Sunday. Gross. Anyway, this week has been a good one for working alongside my fellow church members and getting to know them better. Nice people. Let's hope everything gets done by Sunday morning. Yipes.

Granted, I haven't been to the gym as much as I told myself I was going to be, but I've supplemented those exercise times by continuing to walk to and from the metro at a sluggish pace and sometimes jogging around the neighborhood before coming home to eat peanut M&Ms on the porch. Oh, and one time I went to play tennis but then all the courts were full so my friend and I just walked a few feet apart from each other, stood in place and tossed a Frisbee for a while. Vigorous, no? Tell that to the mirror who practically broke in horror when I went swim suit shopping yesterday. Just kidding, the mirror said something like, "Don't worry, deary, you still have plenty of time to get svelte. Eat that chocolate bar when you get home and reward yourself for it being Wednesday."

As far as the social stuff goes, that's just plain easy during the warmer months. Now everyone's out on their porches and in their yards and it's no trouble at all to say, "Hey neighbor, come on over here and hang out on my porch!" It's happened. It does help that I've had a few visitors come through over the past three weeks. One of them, a good friend from college, is going to be moving to these parts in the next couple months, so I consider that a real social victory for myself. Oh, and congratulations on the new job, Julie.

That's me in a nutshell. I'm having a ball and keeping it real, per youjjjj. (That's an abbreviation of "usual", for the layman.)

OH! I forgot one thing! On Easter after church I drove into the city to have brunch with Roomie B and her parents. Success! I found the place,( The Jefferson hotel), found parking, and did it all without breaking a sweat. This is a milestone, people! I generally hate driving in the city because it's scary and people honk at me when I'm doing nothing wrong and everyone's angry and there are so many cars and AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! Buuuuut, this time I felt quite confident and I generally knew where I was at all times. So I'm getting more comfortable with this place. Score.

Bucket List

Hello, faithful readers. Spring approacheth, no?! It's been rainy and dreary here the past few days, so you know it's about to be Spring. I could do without the rain, but I'm happy about the seasonal change.

I've been way too productive lately and very homemaker-y, and it has really worn me out. This weekend was the first of nine that my roommates and I will spend without one of our own, Roomie K. She is medical missioning abroad for two months and has left us all to our own devices. I am determined not to be a hermit during her absence. I want to have something to show for these two months...perhaps there will be a show-and-tell presentation upon her return. Therefore, Roomie B and I have made a Bucket List. No, not a life/death bucket list. More of a goals list for the time during Roomie K's absence. But I digress. I was talking about my extraordinary productivity this weekend. Let me explain.

My house was a mess. Parts of it are still a mess. And I have some greatly anticipated company arriving this week, so a messy house is NOT okay with me. I chose to use this first weekend of the "Bucket List Era" as a semi-spring cleaning weekend. I did all my laundry, I cleaned the trickiest parts of the house [read: bathroom, kitchen, another bathroom], I went grocery shopping by myself for the first time in years and I cooked two meals for the week. WHAT?! This is not me. Usually I collaborate with Roomie K on the cooking and she comes up with all the meal ideas, but without her I did not flounder. And I'm impressed with Me. (No, not "myself". Me.) I made my first solo lasagna. That's right! Please don't judge me for the fact that I overcooked it by about a half hour. I forgot it was in the oven, okay! I was watching some TV and really just lost track of time. But I have a frozen lasagna ready for the weekend (that hopefully isn't ruined) and I'm quite pleased with myself. I also made some yummy Italian sausage/spinach/shell pasta soup for the next couple days. This weekend I also caught up on some TV episodes I'd missed, did a little reading, and caught up on some correspondence. PRODUCTIVE MUCH?!

Okay, so back to the Bucket List. Here are my main goals:

• Go to the gym regularly
• Drink more water
• Be social and not hermit-ish whilst Roomie K is gone
• Try new things around the city with Roomie B (i.e. restaurants, concert/sporting events, dancing, etc.)
• Eat nutritiously

I also need to practice the Borodin Quartet No. 2 since I'm supposed to be playing it with a chamber group in two weeks and I haven't even looked at the music. Okay, I looked at it. But have a I practiced it? Nope!

Now, my gym goal is nothing new and I've been mostly good about keeping it...with the exception of the past month. Oops. However, without my normal gym buddy around, I'm really going to have to make an effort to go. Cause let me tell you, the gym is a 20 minute walk from my house and once I get home after work I do NOT want to go out again. Plus, street parking is sparse in the general gym area and even walking home to drive to the gym takes (mostly mental) effort. Sooooo, new plan. I'm going to bring my gym bag to work with me during the week so that after I get off the metro in my neighborhood I can go straight to the gym and then walk home. Ugh, and double UGH! Keep in mind, this means I have to bring two bags on the metro and that is just pure awkward. Today was my first day of this new experiment and I was so that awkward girl with two bags. They kept falling down around my feet and I'd have to bend over to move them every time someone wanted to get past me. I couldn't hold them on my shoulders because, let's face it, that's just inconsiderate of the other riders. I can't stand it when people with their big shoulder bags and backpacks insist on keeping said bags on their shoulders and/or backs. That makes getting in the metro car during rush hour much more difficult. Keep the bags at your feet, peeps! Much easier and then I don't have to worry about a bag banging me in the face when I'm sitting down and you whip around really quickly to check which metro stop we've reached. Mmmmmkaythanksbye.

I would also like to note that it is very cumbersome to walk in the rain with two bags and an umbrella, especially when one bag is weighed down by a hefty coin bag. Yes, I have to stop at the bank and convert all my saved-up coins to bills. Gotta get me some spending money for the weekend, y'all!

So I'll let you know how the Bucket List goes. It's only Day 4. I have plenty of time...

Blerg. Also, Cooking.

It's been a while. A month, you might say. I've been unmotivated when it comes to anything but hanging out and watching the Olympics. (Has anyone noticed how much more dangerous the winter olympics are than the summer olympics? Wipeout!) However, it has been a month and Laurel has inspired me to blog again. I don't have much to say, except that you should know I'm Betty Crocker.

Well, in my opinion I'm Betty Crocker. Betty Crocker would call me an amateur and probably throw batter in my face to prove her point. Or something. However, I would shake my finger at her and exclaim, through the tears of shame and humiliation, that while I am an amateur I have been making things from scratch lately and shouldn't she be proud?! I sure am. Well, as you might know, I usually cook on a team. Roomie K is the head chef, which she vehemently denies, and I am the sous chef. She comes up with the brilliant ideas and tells me what to do and then we team up to create culinary masterpieces. Most recently we made biscuits and gravy. From scratch! I've never made white gravy in my life. You know, the breakfast kind. People don't really eat that around here and I'd kind of forgotten about it until one night a couple weeks ago. The night of the Winter Olympics Opening Ceremonies, to be precise. That Friday, Roomie K and I were grilling homemade Bleu Cheese Bacon Burgers to celebrate the U.S.A. We had plenty of bacon grease in the pan, so R.K. says, "Let's make gravy!" "Okay," I said enthusiastically. I had no idea how to do this, but I DID have a recipe for biscuits in my "Anne of Green Gables" sampler book that my parents gave me years ago. I knew how to make biscuits and R.K. had an idea for the gravy making. We combined our knowledge and not only made the most delicious burgers you've ever had, but some Grade A biscuits and gravy for the next morning's breakfast. Huzzah!

And yes, that's the most exciting thing that's happened to me in the past month. Well, besides the Snowpocalypse. The Snowmageddon. The Snowtorious B.I.G. (I didn't make a single one of those up.) All that snow (3 feet ish) is finally starting to melt now that warmer temps have arrived. There will be giant snow drifts across the city until mid-March, I'll bet, but at least I don't have to walk through them every day to get to the metro. I did have four snow days in a row that week. AWESOME! I built an igloo, shoveled lots of snow, and walked around in the Blizzard of 2010. People kept calling it a blizzard but I don't believe it. When I think "blizzard" I recall the words of Laura Ingalls Wilder in The Long Winter. They had such bad weather they had to tie a line between their house and barn so they could find their way back without getting lost in the storm. It certainly wasn't that bad around here. But it still was pretty hardcore. That's the most snow this area's received in over 100 years. And I really enjoyed living a life of leisure, watching movies, reading books, eating like I was a bear preparing for hibernation and hanging out with the neighbors. I'm sad those days are over, though I'm not sad to see the snow melt. I'm over it. Let's get on with Spring!

So that's about it, methinks. Nothing else to report. No "real world" revelations at this time. Work is normal, peeps are good. Oh, I am in charge of the volunteer schedule now at my church. Have I mentioned that? I'm a Coordinator now. I'm the manager, if you will, for the babies and pre-k classes during the first service. I've held a lot of fussy babies recently. I'd like to think I'm the baby whisperer, cause after I walk them around a bit they usually stop crying. But that's me handling one. The volunteers have to deal with multiple babies at a time. I'm all, "Yes! No more tears! Awesome! I'm great at this!" Then I look over in the babies classroom and I'm like, "Hmm, not so much. Multiple children are scary."

Okay, the end. Buh bye.

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.

Update-A-Matey!

I'm back. Phew! That's right, after what seems like the longest hiatus ever (though I know it's not) I am back in business. Blogville, Blogchestertonfieldville. And I'm the mayor. Or I'm on the city council or something. Whatever.

Anyway, there are a few updates I care to share. These are some big ones so brace yourselves. My boss quit. Yes, I told you that she would be quitting, and she did. Wait - I should reread the last post - maybe she'd already quit when I wrote last. It doesn't matter, I've now officially had two weeks of work without my boss and it's been insane. I've recited Philippians 4:13 so much to myself I might as well get it tattooed on my forehead. As I mentioned previously, our fiscal year ended September 30th. This means that all the museums are sending us thick packets of gift forms to record in our system, more than we get at any other time of year besides December 30th. Marlene and I have done pretty well holding down the fort, I think, but it's hard not having my boss around to bounce ideas off of or go to with pesky questions that need answers immediately. Now I have to go to her boss and he doesn't always know what I'm talking about. All in all, it could be worse. I haven't drowned in all the paperwork yet, and the only impending moment of possible doom I can see on the horizon will be when we do fiscal year reports. Don't worry, the old boss is coming back around to guide us through the process. But what about next month when she's not around? It takes forever to hire people around here so I'm sure my co-worker and I are going to have to do reports by our lonesome at least until the new year. At least. Yipes.

Big change #2: 925 house will be disbanded by the end of the year. Yes, my landlord and the building contractor worked out a deal. He got the permit from the county to build two houses on the 925 lot and he will be purchasing the house from my landlord. For those of you who never got to see the house, I couldn't be more sorry. It was magnificent. The last person who will ever get to see 925 intact will be my friend Michelle who's coming to visit this weekend. The rest of you will just have to look at pictures from my previous posts and mourn the loss of the thing you didn't know was as awesome as it was. That's right, MOURN. I sure am. So now comes the big annoying part of it all - moving. Gotta find a new place. Gotta move into that new place. Have 90 days to do so. And oh my goodness do I HATE moving. Yes, I used the "H" word and I meant it! But whatever, I'm sure we'll find a great new place to live and we'll make it just as much a home as 925 ever was. Oh horse apples...I forgot about the basement and how much junk is down there that doesn't belong to a single roommate here. All the old ones moved out and left their stuff. Yard sale!

So those are the two big things going on. I'd been planning on doing some job searching and option-looking, but that's all on the back burner right now. Things just got a little too crazy for me to focus on anything else. Except, of course, Fall.

That's right, I focus on Fall because it's awesome. It's finally sweater weather around here and at night we have the heat on. Granted, it's on pretty low but it's still on. I bought a pair of house shoes this weekend. And they're amazing. So, how have I celebrated Fall?

First off, I had a three day weekend this past weekend. Miraculous. Turns out Columbus was kind of a meany and not very culturally sensitive, but at least I got a day off because of him. Thanks, man. Remember the roommate I replaced? Kate? Well she was in town this weekend. And when company arrives, you gotta pull out the big guns. So the 925 girls flew into a Fall frenzy. On Saturday morning we all breakfasted together and then drove off to Breaux Vineyards in Somewhere, VA. Loudon County, I think. LoCo. Anyway, we tasted some wines, feasted on gumbo, baguettes and cheese, and listened to a homegrown band play songs everyone but me seemed to know. It was fun. Then we zipped over to Crooked Run Orchards for some good old fashioned apple and pumpkin picking. We saw people making apple butter, we tried our hand at "Guess-That-Carcass" and I got nothing right. We climbed apple trees and ate the fruit right off the tree. I constantly wanted to burst out into "People Will Say We're In Love" from Oklahoma, but I resisted. That would have been weird.

The rest of the weekend was pretty relaxing. We're trying to figure out what to do with the ungodly amount of apples we have in our kitchen. Kristen and I made a crostata on Sunday, but that only got rid of four apples. I probably need to make about 3 apple pies and that will take care of it. But that sounds like something I really don't want to do. Too bad I don't have a juicer. This is the one time of year I'd use it. Anyway, I'll let you know what other apple thingies I make - or not - before the apples rot.

So there's that! Oh, yesterday I went to the Foundation Center offices downtown to take a "Proposal Writing Basics" class. It was informative. I learned what constitutes a grant proposal and how much time and effort it takes to write one. Juuuuuuuust great. Maybe someday I'll get the chance. Oh, you want to know how I've lived here for about a year and a half and don't know this city at all? I was supposed to exit at Farragut West yesterday, NOT Foggy Bottom. The metro stops are right next to each other, and I was to take the Farragut West stop. Right? Then why did I get off at Foggy Bottom? And why when I got to the street level did I wonder why I was at 23rd and Eye St. instead of 17th and Eye St.? Yup, I walked the blocks to 17th and Eye so that I could slip into the back row of the class about 5 minutes late. Horse apples!!!

Anyway, here's what's to come: my roommates and me looking for a new house, my boss-bosses hopefully hiring me a new boss (no, I do not want that job, ever), me convincing myself that it's not too cold to walk the 5 minutes to the gym so I can keep in shape as it gets colder and colder every day. I just got a flyer from the Washington Ballet letting me know I could get half price Nutcracker tickets right now. So, naturally, I'm already excited about the holidays. But for now, I'm enjoying Fall. And that's your update, matey!

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.