Please Mom May I Have Another?

Because we're classy and have an enormous condo, Cam and I eat at the coffee table. We could eat in the breakfast nook, or the formal dining room, but that's absurd (and also more flat out lies. We have neither.). The coffee table's got shelves - a 2x3 grid of cubbies. Winston likes to lie in the one below my plate, per the above picture.


Then, at some point during the meal, he creeps out. Mom? Food? Me? Aren't I cute?


He then spends a lot of time staring at my plate, hoping. This is actually really polite behavior for him - he thinks nothing of standing up on his hind legs and fishing around on the counters for goodies. I'll try for a picture of that next.

Dinner, by the way, was rigatoni in a roasted red pepper & parmesan cream sauce, topped with windowsill basil, zucchini on the side. With homemade chocolate chip cookies for dessert. Not too shabby!

Yummy Jonathan Adler Wishlist

I've recently come out of my cave a little bit by entering contests on a few of my favorite websites. What could it hurt, right? The Pioneer Woman has frequent, insanely awesome giveaways, which I love. Any excuse to visit her site, really. Tangentially, she also has a really simple philosophy about updating her blog: Do it daily, so people never waste their time visiting. Food for thought.

Anyway, it's the giveaway going on over at Decor8 today that sent me straight to my Blogger account. Holly Becker's giving away two Jonathan Adler gift certificates, and to enter the contest, you had to list 2-4 items you'd love to buy there. My typing wrists are resting in a puddle of drool after making my list. Here are my choices.

Pie-in-the-sky selection: chain rug

Slightly closer to earth: meurice mirror

And finally, affordable: helix bath jar


Of course, the likelihood I'll win contests on these fabulously popular sites is slim, but it's so fun to enter!

Who Feels Like Chicken Tonight?

Me, for one. I've got that ridiculous bird in the oven right now. Ridiculous because he weighs 5lbs. I wanted a nice yummy organic birdie in the 3-4lb range, but ye olde Perdue was my only option. I think it'll be fantastic anyway. It's destined for the belly of my friend who could use some comfort food. We'll let you know how it turns out, because you need to know.

So, the many many wall-ready pictures aren't up yet. I'm weirdly indecisive about this particular decorating decision. Just about every piece of furniture we've got I've loved and felt sure about, and I know I want all those pics up, but I'm having a hard time with it. I need some opinions, but I think that'll be hard to do electronically. So would you please come over and help me with that? I'll feed you chicken!

On Deck

So, the framing saga continues. While I was waiting on my custom frame job for that little zebra, I headed over to American Frame on my bro-il's recommendation. There, I picked out frames and mats for just about everything else we needed framed. I have to say - easy to use website, much less expensive than in a brick & mortar shop, and everything arrived quickly and with all the pieces. Some might see it as a drawback that they're covered in plexi, not actual glass, but it looks great and these aren't priceless heirlooms. I'm pretty pleased, I have to say.

Cam and I (OK, mostly Cam) assembled everything Monday night. Now the fun part - where are we going to hang all these beauties? Speaking of beauties, here are the credits, from L-R:

-A print of a tern we picked up on a daytrip to Ellicott City, MD
-A signed, numbered Jay Ryan print from the Andrew Bird and the Mysterious Production of Eggs tour. This one's called "opposite day." Jay toured with Andrew and sold his prints, especially a collection of 14 based on Andrew's songs. And when Andrew came by work, Jay came along. He gave me a stack of his work - seriously, about a dozen different prints. They are each amazing. I gave some away, hung two in my cubicle, framed these 2, and have a few more. He's incredibly talented.
-A papyrus from Cairo Cam brought back. It's of a big black cat.
-"black and white and read all over" by Melissa Bryant, also known as mywireempire on Etsy. That's the one I got framed for $70.
-Gingko leaves in a wreath from Bold&Noble, also available on Etsy.
-Another Jay Ryan. I'm a lucky girl. This one's for "masterfade."
-And another papyrus from Cairo. This one's my favorite of the stack Cam brought home.

Now we just have to figure out where to hang everything. That's the sort of project I enjoy!

45.79 Miles!

Hi there! Check out my little runner girl, down there on the left - she's so pleased! Just synced some new runs. Post to come tomorrow night, a follow-up to the framing post - we now have 6 framed beauties in need of wallspace, and I had a top-secret project that turned out well, so details soon. Sleep well, my friends!

Frames And Layers

This evening I headed over to Capitol Hill to get a mat for an Etsy print I needed framed. It was a great experience - the gentleman helping me, DJ, was quiet and intelligent, but also enthusiastic about the choices I made. He loved the frame, which was clearly inexpensive and from Target (and yeah, me and my big mouth, I totally told him that's where it was from in a weird confessional way), and thought it looked great with the mat color I picked. It was such a good experience, and so inexpensive, that I decided to get another print framed. This one was small, but such an odd shape that I hadn't had any luck finding a frame that could work. So I selected a simple white, wood frame, and a mat that complimented the image, and plain glass.

$70, and I'm assembling it myself.

I knew framing was expensive, but wow! But, also wow - what a great trade to learn. You need space, and specialized equipment, but if I could learn how to do that, that would make a great Plan B. Have you seen this article that's making the rounds right now, from the New York Times? It's called "The Case For Working With Your Hands." I like to think that's not something I've ever needed convincing about, that I've always valued work, and trades[wo]men. If it was ever something I was elitist about, all traces of snobbery have disappeared since dating Cam. He's always made his living as a mechanic of sorts - he's worked on cars, motorcycles, and boats, and now, on hydrogen generators. He's got more career mobility than I'll ever have, and I really admire the knowledge he picks up along the way and how he's constantly building upon that base, and using it to solve new problems. Everyone does that to a degree, of course, but nothing I do gets our DirecTV wired through the air ducts*. Cam took one look at where the TV needed to be mounted, and where the cables came through, and made it happen.

I have said for a long time that building and decorating cakes for Baskin-Robbins was quite possibly my favorite job. I learned a ton, and I've recently been chipping the rust off those old skills, baking cakes for friends. So far, so good, and I'd be lying if I said I'd never entertained the idea of chucking my career (after much more practice, of course) and hanging out my shingle as a baker.

Dipping my baby toe into the world of framing, though, gave me another idea (a fantasy, really). How cool would it be to apprentice with a framer, then open up a shop? I love the design aspect, of picking the right mat and frame and detail for a picture. But as appealing as that all sounds, I'm equally intrigued by the tools of the trade, necessary for cutting wood and fitting corners and sizing glass.

I'm not really someone who has dreams about what I'm going to be when I grow up. Gross as it sounds, I already got what I wanted. I got - and have - my dream job. But lately, I'm starting to get glimpses of what my next life could be like. It's a relief, really, because between getting said dream job and now, I've been a little worried about the "what next," about how to have goals and dreams when I got what I really wanted at 25. How exciting to see there's still a path ahead of me.

*On a side note, there was one home problem I should have been well-equipped to solve, and I failed miserably: wiring my record player to play through my stereo. I carefully plugged everything in, from turntable to preamp and out of the preamp into the stereo... And it sounded AWFUL. Distorted and loud and just dirty. I should have realized hey, it sounds like this is double-amplified, a problem I know how to solve when dealing with my recording equipment for work, but nope. I got a new stylus, Cam and I grounded the crap out of every stage of the setup even though it didn't sound like a grounding issue, and I even got a new, fancier preamp in case that was the issue. And then I turned to my genius friends, the audio engineers. They all thought of the same question instantly: "Hey, is there a preamp already built in to the record player?" Duh. Yes. So now I have not one, but two useless preamps. But hey, I can listen to my vinyl again!

Ricki Hits Rock Bottom

Oh man. I've never hidden my love of trashy shows of all stripes. Rock of Love, the Hills, Rob & Big, if it's vaguely reality based and on MTV or VH1, I'll probably watch it. For whatever reason, Charm School never made the list... Until today. I blame the gym! The dumbest show in the world looks downright appealing compared to staring out the window while I pant on my hamster wheel. First of all, it's got one of my favorite Brett Michaels rejects, Ashley. She's a total trainwreck, and she and her partner in crime, Farrah, are a trip. What the French! But, seriously? This show is godawful, and RICKI LAKE is hosting! Now that's the real What the French! I mean, it's a paycheck, but she just uttered the following sentence:

It makes me uncomfortable because Charm School is supposed to be the kind of environment that fosters respect.

Ohhhh Ricki. I know it's a paycheck. But... Just... NO.

Shake My Taters

First of all, is there anything quite like a Mom? Cam and I are lucky to have two of the best, and so Mother's Day was an incredibly fun holiday this year. But, really, we celebrated moms all weekend.

Saturday, after a quick perusal of some local yard sales, we headed to Annapolis to meet the newest mom I know: My friend, Susan. She had a baby boy about 6 weeks ago, and we had yet to meet him. As anticipated, he's adorable. He's got her coloring and her husband's red hair, and he screamed up a storm while we there. I have that effect on infants, for some reason. Then we went to my "nephew", Evan's, second birthday party. It was a really fun afternoon with old family friends, most of all, Evan's mom, my best friend. She's pregnant again and so cute. That night we caroused with one of Cam's buddies, then the next morning, mom celebrations began anew.

My mom is super cool so for Mother's Day, she went to the bagel place and got bagels for everyone, and when we woke up we gave her her present: tickets for the 6 of us (mom, dad, sister, bro-il, cam, and me) to go see Star Trek. It. Was. AWESOME. Seriously. I mean, exceeded-expectations good-times-for-fans-and-non-fans AWESOME. I was really worried there would be a "heh heh check us out we're in a Star Trek movie heh heh" mentality from the cast, and there was none of that. This was a rockin' good time.

After the movie, Cam and I took off to make an early dinner (is that what "supper" is? The meal after church, but not in the evening?) for another awesome mom in our lives - his. She requested bulgogi and kimchi, so after a grocery shopping trip, we spent an hour and a half buzzing around her awesome, newly renovated kitchen. We chopped, diced, mashed, blended, massaged, sliced and squeezed our way to a pretty incredible meal, and she was thrilled. It was so fun to take the time to make something new, and Cam and I are a great team in the kitchen. It's pretty rad to be with someone who enjoys feeding people as much as I do.

After supper (and cleaning the kitchen), we swung back by my parents' to bring them the leftovers for their dinner, and joined them for beers on the deck. Nice finish.

Oh, and tonight? Tonight I ran, and came home to a delicious dinner a'la Cam. That's where the title comes from - he made skillet potatoes, and jumped off the couch at one point, exclaiming, "Ooh I gotta shake my taters!" Perfect.

Loudmouths

I'm not sure exactly what it is about me, and I think a lot of women feel this way, but I think I really do receive more unwelcome commentary on my appearance on the street than the average woman. It's bizarre, because I'm incredibly average - 9 out of 10 times I'm in jeans and sneakers, I'm neither fat nor thin, I have light brown hair, etc.

The thing about me is my hips/derriere are, well, not average. My waist is small and my hips are wide, and my booty's round, and that's where the vast number of loudmouths get their inspiration. I'm incredibly lucky to be with a man who loves that about me, who feels about my shape like other men feel about large breasts, so in the past couple of years I've definitely gotten a bit less hate-y about my shape.

Often the comments are appreciative (but still gross and unwanted), sometimes they're downright mean, or sound that way on the receiving end. I think I'm going to keep track, see if it takes the sting out a little. I'm not giving them any power or fame by doing this here on my little page, and it might make me feel better. We'll see.

Of course, this morning was no exception. I was walking to the bus stop, and passed two men. Said one,

"Mmm hips is wide like a horse!"

On a scale of 1-5 of hurty-ness, I give this one a 3. Could be worse, but still sucks. As for accuracy, he actually did pretty well. Horses to get wide in the back, and they're strong, just like me. If he said I was built like a horse he'd be wrong - my legs aren't skinny, I have much better calves (haha) - but he just called out my hips. So I give him a 4 for accuracy.

Fleet(ish) Feet

I know I have a ridiculous number of blogs listed on the left here, but if you scroll all the way to the bottom, you'll see a new addition. See her, down there, my little Nike running girl? I love her. Or, more accurately, I love my Nike+. If you don't know what that is, it's basically a little kit with a sensor that sits on my shoe and a receiver that plugs into the bottom of my Nano. It tracks the distance and speed of my runs, but even better, it's a little electronic trainer. My Nike+ trainer has a woman's voice (I really need a name for her, don't I? Hmmm.), and she is the best. She tells me how far I've gone, a half-km at a time, and anytime I ask her, she tells me how fast I'm running and my exact distance. After a run in the rain last week, a new lady congratulated me - I'd PR'ed on my mile time, dodging drops. Sweet! I'm not sure how accurate she is - I'll have to test it out at a 5K sometime, or on a track (unlikely) - but I can tell you she's a great motivator.

I've only recently taken up running again, after more than a year off. It's more enjoyable than it's ever been. When I'm running, whether on sidewalks downtown or trails in Rock Creek Park, there's rarely a run where I don't feel, for at least a kilometer, like a runner. I should explain, I run very slowly. Not quite as slowly as my little runner girl on this page would have you believe - that time includes some walking after I finish my run - but slowly. And every time I catch a glimpse of myself in a plate glass window, I'm shocked. I lumber. I plod. I'm hunched over and monster-y. But I feel like an athlete. I feel like I'm standing up straighter and my legs are moving faster than they actually are. But a kid on a swing feels like she's flying, and so do I. I guess that's what really matters.

Porch Gazing

Delighted as I am to have a sweet express bus that takes me from work to home, I really love to Metro to the stop nearest to my place, then walk the remaining mile or so. It's a great walk through neighborhoods and parks, and it's so uniquely D.C. It defies easy categorization - it's very much the city, as every part of my route is just blocks from a major commercial road dotted with bodegas and liquor stores. Garbage collects in the gutters, and buses barrel through. But the on my route I pass houses, some in rows of 3 or 6, some linked for entire blocks, and many stand freely. Today there were spring flowers everywhere - daffodils in bright bunches, forsythia exploding along fences, and whatever that bush is that grows more vertically than forsythia, but in branches like forsythia, and has blushing reddish flowers. Gorgeous.

Someday I will have a house, and my house will have a front porch. The ceiling of that porch will be painted some beautiful color. I've loved that bit of unexpected color since college, when I first walked onto my friend Erica's porch and looked up to see a periwinkle "sky." Today I saw a rainbow of porch ceilings- pine green, sky blue, a bright yellow, a lot of brick red. But my favorite was this unbelievable super-saturated rose color. I'd never have picked it, but it made my heart skip a little. Sign of a good color, I'd say. And I bet it looks beautiful in the evening, sun setting and candles lit.

Stupid Pineapple Express

First of all, Cam's still not home. And I still don't know when he will be. Hopefully just another week or so. But that's not what I came here to talk about.

You know those red boxes full of DVDs popping up at grocery stores and McDonald's and elsewhere? It's a great idea - a DVD for a buck a day, no late fees. Helps fill in the gaps between Netflix rentals, or satisfies an unpredicted urge for a movie night. Good stuff! But wait. There's a catch... And I can't believe I'm the only person who's gotten trapped.

While all of these machines seem to be red, they are actually run by two different companies, DVD Play and Redbox. They look quite similar, though, and function the same way, so I didn't realize that. You can see it coming, I'm sure - I rented a DVD Play disc and returned it at a Redbox. And then found a $28 charge on my credit card for Pineapple Express, the movie I'd "failed" to return.

I can hardly believe I'm alone here. I know it's my own fault for not paying closer attention, but it seems like they've got kind of a racket going on. I'm not litigious, but this little runaround really makes me wonder.

Holding Down the Fort

Some sun and my man. That's all I'm asking for. It sounds so simple, but sun's been in short supply for weeks, and so has Cam. I still don't have a return date for him. Not soon enough, I can tell you that much.

It's weird, all this time living solo. I've never lived by myself before, and it's something Enna recommended I do at some point. There are certainly things I like about it - the eating with my fingers, the regular gym trips, the healthy food and the much lower alcohol intake. I had a fantastic weekend in Philadelphia with sister & bro-il, not to be beat. I lunched with a dear friend, visited Cam's family, and helped his sister register for her upcoming wedding. I've been out with neighborhood friends, been to two parties and a show, and dined at a new buzzy restaurant. I've taken myself - driven myself, walked myself, metro'd and bussed myself - to each event, and it's been a pleasant reminder of the first couple of years I lived in the city, during graduate school. It's fun to reconnect with it, to enjoy it on foot and on metro.

Other parts of me, however, are suffering. I don't mean the obvious - hugs and affection and laughter and love and conversation and checking-in and partnership. While I've been super productive, my creative impulse, fragile at best, is now dormant once again. I'm taking an online course designed to help me with that, and can barely muster the will to complete the assignments... And I paid for the class. I'm not really sure what to do about that.

Still and all, I'm taking good care of myself and our kitties.

Sitting This One Out

Today's Ash Wednesday, and as a non-religious sort, that means at least once today I was surprised by the smudge on a stranger's forehead*, but not much else. I'm intrigued, though, by the way all sorts of folks have popularized Lent as a sort of temporary New Year's, a time for resolutions that you only have to keep for 40 days. Some give up Facebook, others, carbs. I've toyed with the idea, since I'm always game for self-improvement exercises, but this is one that just doesn't resonate with me. And you know what? I'm ok with that. I love cultural fusions and sharing, I love finding what works for me in the systems of others. But it's also kind of cool that there's a tradition that's got nothing to do with me, that means so much to a certain subsection of the faithful. I don't judge the apropriators one bit, and I like watching what they come up with. But I'll sit this one out. Come my birthday, though, and you'll see me make resolutions a-plenty.

*Today, at work, a colleague and I reminsced -- in vivid detail -- about watching Robert Novack, years ago, on Crossfire on Ash Wednesday. His smudge was melting down his forehead, under the TV studio lights.

Sweeney and the Snowflakes

The forecasters have been predicting snow in D.C. for a while now, but last night, we finally got some. I woke up to a darker, more silent bedroom than usual, but didn't make much of it. I clicked on the radio, then headed out to feed the cats. Not too much later I heard the school closings, which can mean anything from a dusting to several feet. I took a peek behind the blind, and we had a little more than a dusting, but it was coming down pretty hard, with big, fat flakes blowing around.

I can't be sure, but I think it was Sweeney's first real snow. I pulled up the blind and plopped her on the windowsill. She zeroed in on those flakes pretty quickly, though Winston couldn't really be bothered. I shouldn't be suprised, I guess -- she is the cat who watches TV. Seriously. Whatever crap I've got on, she'll tune into for a bit. She'll sit on the floor right by the coffeetable, looking up at the screen on the wall, nodding her head a bit as she follows the action. Pretty cute.

Beans for the Beast

I have a secret.

When Cam's out of town - which isn't infrequent - I like to eat my dinner with my fingers. Last night I made a dipping sauce of greek yogurt and horseradish. I dunked cold steak and hot roasted baby potatoes, and it was nearly as good as the hot steak and roasted potatoes dinner Cam whipped up the night before. Dip, dip. And haricot vert on the side, sprinkled with salt. Next to the horseradish, the beans tasted so sweet.

About those green beans. I placed the plate of steak and beans next to the stove, then sat on the couch while I waited for the potatoes to re-heat. I looked down at my laptop for a few minutes, then realized Winston was on the counter, facedown in my plate. As soon as I looked up he felt my eyes and flew off the counter and under the chair, his prize in his maw. And what did he have firmly clenched between his teeth? Steak? Nope. A green bean.

Weirdo.

Two Little Bits

One, for me to remember when I'm having a hard time getting myself to do something:

Motivation is an effect, not a cause.

Two, for everyone, because I like it:

failure, pure and simple

so, clearly, i failed at nablopomo. but i'm a pretty stubborn kind of girl, so i'll try again next month. look for all sorts of resolutiony things, like typing with proper capitalization. and taking more photos. which shouldn't be hard because DRUMROLL PLEASE...

I GOT MY DREAM CAMERA FOR CHRISTMAS. well, sort of. what i actually unwrapped on christmas day (evening - a whole other story, but basically i work christmas so my family gets all millenial on things and time-shifts the whole affair to the evening. it's great. pajamas, coffee, waffles, bacon, presents, and adult beverages. plus my sister and her husband get the morning for his family, cam for his, and santa for last minute stage-setting.) was a block of wood in the shape of my camera, with a picture of my camera pasted to the front, and all sorts of switches and buttons and tripod mount and an sd card slot drawn on. it was freaking adorable, and nearly as awesome as the fact that though it is on backorder, at some point in the hopefully not-too-distant future, i will own a canon g10. thanks, cam, bbe!

in fact, a block of wood was not the only sorry/rad present i got. i also got a rock from my sister, on which she wrote "lump of coal." she buried this rock in the center of 8 layered boxes, each wrapped. it was a bit of subterfuge in case i remembered what she got me, which i didn't, so it came as a complete surprise when i unwrapped this badass watch in a nice normal watch-sized box. thanks, enna! fyi, winston has already chewed many little kitty teeth-holes into the strap. because he is a punk. but i love it (and him) anyway.

speaking of the cats (and don't pretend you aren't dying for an update), we had kitty christmas yesterday. winston and sweeney got a catnip lightning bolt, a new attachment for the fishing pole, cat grass, and new crunchy treats. it seems that in spite of the cereal-box-vampirism*, stinky butt problem*, and absolute refusal to sit for nail trims**, santa decided to visit. i tell you, winston must have been just a whisker from the naughty list.

*that's winston, and winston again.
*that's sweeney. she's actually really well-behaved.

december, so far

12 hours driving
11 skipped workouts
10 dollar secret santa
09 yards of pine roping
08 hours baking
07 minor freakouts
06 out of town gifts
05 hours at the maaaall!
04 etsy shops
03 homemade treats
02 engagements
and a beautiful baby olivia!

just killing time

nablopomo means one thing for sure: kitty neglect. all the time i spend with my laptop in my lap is time spent with winston staring at me from the coffee table, walking on the keyboard, or smooshing his head into my leg trying to shove the computer out of the way. sweeney's a little better at dealing because she's so small, and she likes being beside me as much as sitting on me anyway, so.

here i am blogging about my freaking cats again. it seems to come to this, because when cam's out of town (which is a lot), i spend much of time at home with them. and work's been kind of intense lately (in a good way, i'm learning a new job). and i haven't been reading enough. and when he's gone, i watch too much tv. and that's not conducive to the deep thoughts. i could do a blog about crappy tv, but that would necessitate admitting how much of it i'm conversant in. right now i'm watching some poor kid on true life (oh, how i love true life) take his date to the prom, chauffered by his dad in the family minivan, in which, of course, the air conditioning is broken. and they're the first to arrive. awkward. an observation: how come high school girls think that if their dress is long, it's ok that it's extraordinarily slutty on top? like, cut to the bellybutton, and exposing the inside half of each breast? not classy. my prom dress was short, but i'm grown and not embarassed when i see pictures, so i still think it was ok.

deep thoughts, people. deep thoughts.