Things I Learned This Weekend

There's a reason I've worked across from two thrift stores for six years and only went in for the first time last month.
Because I love thrift stores and having one so close five days a week is dangerous.

A mere $2.65 can provide a lot of happiness.
That being said, I scored an awesome deal at one of these stores on Friday: a dollhouse that I thought was going to be $5 but ended up being a mere $2.65. Yes, I just turned that big age. Yes, I have friends buying actual houses. But dammit, I love miniatures and I love crafts and I'm excited about this! Plus, there is a thriving dollhousery and miniatures market out there, just google and see. I feel like I can still be normal as long as I don't: 

1. Buy dolls and start re-creating, or re-imagining, my life.
2. Spend a ton of money on (admittedly fabulous) dollhouse furniture and accessories.
3. Ignore my actual life in favor of a potential dollhouse life.

Not everyone loves chaotic shopping as much as I do.
On Saturday, I gathered a group of friends for the Old Town Boutique Warehouse Sale that was held at the "towering George Washington Memorial Masonic Temple." (That's how the free trolley that runs in Old Town describes it.) I'd heard of this sale but this was my first time attending. Old Town has a thriving boutique district and each year a bunch set up shop at the memorial with some deeply discounted wares. To say it was chaotic is probably a bit of an understatement, but I LOVE chaotic shopping. The more I get to dig and hunt for that elusive thing I didn't know I wanted, the happier I am. That's why I love thrift stores so much. My friends weren't quite as thrilled as me, I think, though just about everyone bought something and all had a smile on their face when we left.

A Nutella and strawberry crepe just is not an adequate lunch.
For lunch we made the somewhat-lengthy trek down King Street to a crepe restaurant I've only been to once. We just had a good time relaxing and laughing and I think everyone enjoyed their meals. I enjoyed mine but, considering I get a Nutella and strawberry crepe as a snack on a normal day, making it a meal meant I was hungry exactly five minutes later. It was good while it lasted, though.

Working in a place for six years makes you have a lot to say about it.
Most of my friends had spent limited time in Old Town and it was fun to explain my favorite haunts or odd stories about this bar or that alley. I even took two of my friends up to my office to show them around. It's both odd and fun to have my worlds collide like that.

My roommate and I have the best Saturday nights of anyone.
I'm not a going-out-on-Saturday-night type of person. If I'm out it's usually on a Friday night after work and even then I'm home by 10. Luckily, the roomie/best friend isn't a Saturday-night partier either. For the second time in recent history, we spent our Saturday night doing various things whilst also watching episodes of the brilliant CNN series Crimes of the Century. We are some serious history buffs and true crime lovers and this series is just made for us. So far we've seen the episodes on the Unabomber, Oklahoma City, Waco, Reagan assassination attempt, and DC snipers. And we still have a few waiting for us on the DVR. Try not to be too jealous of our hopping lives.

My cough syrup is the best sleep medicine ever.
I don't sleep and I have weird reactions to medicine so to find one that actually knocks me out and helps me sleep uninterrupted never happens. I'm going to have to find out what's in the medicine, pray it's not codeine or morphine or cocaine, and see if it comes in another sleep-aid form.

You're not a real woman until you buy a saw.
Watch out, she has a saw! I've written before about using Daddy's table saw and wanting my own, but it's just not good for an apartment and also probably not good for my fingers. So this cute little one will have to do for now.

I love my local hardware store but also kind of hate it.
I love it because it's close, has tons of stuff in a small space, and it has a rewards card so I get coupons. But I also kind of hate it because it's not possible to walk in and NOT be asked if you need any help. Why is this bad? Because a lot of the time I'm looking for something to be used in jewelry making or, like this time, a dollhouse. I don't know if it's because I'm a woman or because I was walking up and down every aisle, but I must have been asked five times if I needed something. Even when I can't find what I'm looking for, I still prefer to just look for it myself because you never know what else you'll stumble across. I'm thinking of getting a tshirt that says "I've been going to hardware stores since before you were born. Leave me alone."

There's an amazing toy store with a robust art supply department within walking distance of my apartment.
I get to support a local business while buying fake fur and duct tape sheets. (Also for the dollhouse and also I think it was killing the cashier that I wouldn't tell her what I was making.)

The best reason not to take a Sunday nap is to have a video chat with best friends.
This may have been the first time all four of us have done a video chat together. It turns out we were more caught up on each other's lives than we thought, but it was still great to just all be together for a bit.

It is possible to cry at a sport that's not Carolina basketball.
I can't help it, I just love the Manning boys so much and so wanted Peyton to win. I only teared up for a second after one of Seattle's (way too many) touchdowns. I just hate to see any team (except Duke) flounder so poorly and lose by so much, but especially a Manning-led team.

It is possible to build a (roofless) house in a weekend.
Bam, progress! From box to this in just two days. Thanks to some discounted "oops" paint at the hardware store, it even got some color

Things I Learned This Weekend

Introducing a friend to the wonders of Old Town's La Tasca is a great start to the weekend.
As does the sangria, too, of course. Brandie, who now works in Alexandria, met me for a happy hour on Friday and I got to introduce her to my favorite HH locale.

No, seriously, I love a Saturday by the pool.
Have I mentioned this enough this summer? My 4 hours there on Saturday spent caught up in a great book (see below) and the funky tan line of my bathing suit ties prove it.

Band of Horses and My Morning Jacket put on a damn good show.
I went to Merriweather Post Pavilion on Saturday with some friends, old and new, to see this concert. While I only have 2 songs by BOH and 1 song by MMJ, it was a great show and I will be expanding my catalog of their music soon.

A hot dog and a glass of wine can cost as much as the GDP of a small country.
Plus french fries, a margarita, and another glass of wine. But they all were good.

Two great bands, especially when they're playing "Rock the Casbah," make my ears ringing for hours worth it.
Next time, I might have to wear ear plugs. It's just so loud!

My hair is a better dancer than I am.
On the way home, Shana and I wanted pictures of us dancing. While she's cute in all hers, mine are just all hair.

The book "Gone Girl" is completely worth the hype.
And a great way to spend a Saturday by the pool in the sun and a Sunday on the couch while it rains.

In which I complain about numbers

My current work project involves economic and business processes. Or, more simply, my current work project involves numbers. Lots of numbers. And formulas. And math. I'm a word person. Give me numbers and I shut down and can barely remember my own name.

Let me break it down a bit more. In high school I got As. That's it. From freshman to junior year, six classes a year, four report cards a year, an A for every one of them. That's 72 As. Senior year, block schedule, four report cards, eight classes, 28 more As. What's that, there are two As missing? Why yes, and not just because I'm bad at math. But because the first half of the last semester of my senior year I got...a C. In AP Calculus. It still hurts.

As you might imagine, as someone who not only got 100 As but still remembers them 10 years later, I was more Ms. Neurotic Over-Achieving Basketcase than Ms. Easygoing. Thus the C did not go over well. My parents didn't even have to punish me because I was so hard on myself. But I raised C to a B and wept with joy because it really was that difficult for me and I was grateful just for the B.

Needless to say, I haven't really shined the past few weeks. I have, however, cried, panic attacked, pulled hair, and whined. A lot. I've also started taking what I call "word breaks," where I do something that involves my first love. I write a blog post or an email or, my new favorite, slip out of the office for 15 minutes to read. I come back happy, refreshed, and ready to tackle those numbers! Yeah, not quite, but there are significantly fewer tears after a word break.

There's a small church and cemetery near my office with ample shade and stone benches that is a great place to get away for a few minutes. This is where I've been taking most of my reading breaks.


View from my favorite bench.



Pretty day.



Most recent reading material: Stranger than Fiction by Chuck Palahniuk.



Cute sign by drinking fountain.

I feel the earth move under my feet

Seeing as how I've blogged about probably all of the other items on Davy DCist's list, I can't not mention that minor issue of the EARTH QUAKING yesterday.

To be perfectly honest, I still don't really believe it. I saw the buildings sway, heard the rumble, felt the shaking, but still just can't quite wrap my head around it. Give me blizzards, suspicious packages, and hurricanes any day, no problem. But an earthquake? In D.C.? Don't be absurd.

Tuesday was such an amazingly beautiful day: Carolina blue skies, low heat, and a gorgeous breeze. So around 1:30 I decided to take a work break and pick up a few things at Gap, two and a half blocks from my office. On my way back to the office, about a block and a half away, I felt a rumbling that I assumed to be a big truck. Then, I noticed the buildings start to sway. And I just kept staring at them sway. While the buildings in Old Town are only two or three stories high, they are also quite old and, oh yeah, generally stationary.

I sometimes have a problem with vertigo, and once they started swaying, my head got all wishy washy and nothing really made sense after that. Thus I went to my go-to mode for any stressful or unknown situation: rationalization. "They aren't really moving. It's just a big truck. It's scaffold falling. It's construction work. Or a big truck." (I kept looking all around for this damn truck.) A man on the street even stopped and asked if it was an earthquake and I scoffed, said no, and kept walking. (I feel really, really bad about this, that I just said no and kept walking.)

After I dismissed the big truck, construction, and earthquake theories, I moved on to the most obvious one: bomb. But even then I couldn't even panic or stir up any real emotion, so I focused on walking as quickly as possible to my office, determined not to draw attention to myself in case it did turn out to be a dastardly big truck. It seemed to stop almost as soon as it started  and I probably only moved 10 feet while it was still going, but with my head all wobbly, who knows. All I wanted was to get to the office and be around people I knew. For some reason that was a big deal, to see people I knew so they could tell me what happened. Because for some reason I didn't trust the earth moving and all the strangers standing in the street staring up at the buildings.

I got to the office to find everyone gathered in the hall discussing what had happened, no one quite believing it. After a little while I realized I was shaking and didn't stop for about an hour. But it really was just...fine. I stayed late to avoid the metro mess and then spent about two hours on the train due to speed restrictions. A few picture frames in my apartment fell and a glass jar broke, but that was it. It still doesn't quite seem real, especially given the destruction we've seen in Japan, though that one was of course much stronger.

I'm very good at packing my emotions down, telling them to chill out, and then pulling them out at a more appropriate time. But as a result they don't always appear when I need them, or when it would be most prudent. (If you know me I'm sure you have gathered this if you've ever seen me start yelling and crying because I can't find a lost shoe. Hint: It's not really about the shoe. I've probably just unpacked some emotions from a weak prior.)  But maybe this is a good thing, maybe I'm much better in a crisis or a potential crisis than I assumed. And right now everything is just...fine. I'm not sure I'll be taking any work breaks to go to Gap anytime soon, but for now, it's just...fine.

That being said, I don't ever care to repeat it. Ever. When I say give me thundersnow or hurricanes, I mean it, those are at least predictable. And lest ye think I'm being cavalier, I know the destruction they can bring, I just like a little warning. And I really, really don't like when buildings sway.

Day 341: Great Scot!

A large reason that the fam chose this weekend to come up was the Scottish Christmas parade being held in Old Town Alexandria as part of the annual Scottish Christmas Walk weekend. It has been two years since Mom and I went to Edinburgh and its environs, and we've missed it a bit. Thus the opportunity to hear bagpipers and see a dozen breeds of Scottish dogs, could not be missed. Thus I went to my first Scottish parade in Alexandria.

Despite the freezing numbness that consumed our bodies, it was a great parade. And a pretty big deal considering the number of Virginia politicians and (Scottish) clansmen from across the country. And of course, Alexandria-born Willard Scott, and two kilt-clad, UNC hat wearing and loving Tar Heels, that were the only ones to give us candy. (Next time, we will rent a kid and then steal its candy.)

Grand Marshall Willard Scott:
I want their socks:Cutest picture ever:
Scottish people are tall:One of a bajillion beautiful dogs:
Bagpipers:They carry swords. I think since my first name is Scottish, I should get to carry a sword in the next parade.

We also visited the newly renovated National Museum of History. This is my favorite DC museum, and though a bit disappointing, I have hopes that once all the exhibits open and the crowd dwindles down, I will love it again.

Outside Star Spangled Banner exhibit:
A button I liked:
I happened to have bought a miniature of this the night before at Mount Vernon:Barbie! And who Mom and Melissa claim is GI Joe, but who I think is Fidel Castro. (As I told them, of course Barbie's a communist. No one could get that many clothes in a free market economy. Though Melissa is correct, she had a lot of jobs.)
And finally, we ate at the Elephant and Castle pub on Pennsylvania. I've been eyeing this for awhile as it's also the name of London Tube stop, and it was a good choice. Best hot spinach artichoke dip ever.

Day 330: Almost home!

I could pretty much live on King Street in Alexandria. I already work there, thus spend a good portion of my day there, surrounded by great restaurants, quaint coffee shops, and stores and stores galore. If it was all enclosed, so I wouldn't have to be exposed to the elements, and if we could eliminate the cars with vendettas against pedestrians, it would be perfection.

A few months ago one of the empty storefronts put up a sign announcing the arrival of a new store called Potomac Bead Company. I waited in anticipation for months, until it opened in mid-October. But for various reasons, including lack of funding, time, and energy, I did not venture into this bead haven, three blocks from my work, until today.

Two floors of beads, beads, and more beads. Some cheap, some not remotely cheap, all awesome. I have tons of packing and cleaning to do before HOME tomorrow, but maybe I can squeeze in making a bracelet, or three.

Day 280: Walk tall

How is it already Monday? Just doesn't seem fair. But it is and it was back to the grindstone and work work work. But the work was broken up a bit when I received my bridesmaid shoes for the wedding, sent to me ahead of time so I could break them in. And what better way to break them in than to strut down King Street, from the office to the metro in high heels, 8/10 of a mile on brick.

And by strut I of course mean hobble and stumble my way along like a drunk person. I'm quite certain had I been brave enough to turn around, there would have been a group of people following me taking bets on when I would faceplant, or exactly how many martinis I had in my system. Oh, if only they knew that not even four years of tripping on the bricks in Chapel Hill could prepare me for fancy high heels on the bricks of Old Town Alexandria.

Day 219: A Streetcar Named...?

It is shaping up to be a lovely week here, not too hot for once, making being outside a relatively pleasant experience. Tonite my friend Elizabeth met me in Alexandria, where we had dinner and then sat by the waterfront, discussing among other things, Feminism, Communism, and our mutual LOVE and obsession for the Olympics. We then took the free trolley from the waterfront to the metro. Nice night all around.

Day 196: Actually venturing off King Street

Even though I've had my job for six months, I tend to walk the same path to and from it everyday. Go to the same places for lunch. Go into the same chain stores or cute shops. Even during a year in which I am always searching for new things to do, I still do the same old thing most of the time. But in the smallest effort imaginable today, I turned down a street I've never turned down, past a church and cemetery I've never seen before, into a post office I've never been in before. Baby steps, I guess, to get me to see more of Old Town than just King Street