No sleep til Brooklyn...or until the AC gets fixed

Next time someone tells me that global warming is just a myth, I am going to punch them in the face. Seriously. Don't tell me this heat we've been having (since, let's face it, April) is normal. I've been living in DC summers my entire life and we'll usually get this hot maybe around August or so for a few weeks, but never this early, and never this long. But I don't need to tell you, chances are where you live it's the same story.

So what would be the worst thing that could happen right now? That's right: for the air conditioning to break. Which is just what happened in my bedroom. See, my building is pretty old (built in the 1960s), so instead of central air, I have a convector unit in each room which is kind of like a radiator. It does AC in the summer and heat in the winter. Unfortunately, the one in the bedroom started making this really loud clanking noise on Wednesday night that was 1) too loud to sleep through and 2) made me think the motor was going to explode. It also scared the crap out of me when it woke me up around 3:00 in the morning.

Now I have this thing where I cannot sleep when it is really hot. It just doesn't happen; in fact, I like to keep it so cool that I sometimes use an extra blanket, even in the summer. Wasteful? Whatever, it's how I like it. Leave me alone. But there was no way in hell I was going to be able to sleep with no air conditioning these past few days. Which left me one option: the couch. The AC in the living room is working just fine, mostly because it broke back in May. Insert your own "fighting with the wife" joke here, but it seemed pretty sad to have to sleep on my own couch in my own house.

As Whitney pointed out, at least my couch is comfortable. But after 4 nights I found myself really longing for my own bed again. I called in a work order on the AC first thing Thursday morning, but of course they didn't get to it before the end of the day Friday. And the maintenance guys don't do work on the weekends. You can bet your ass I called the office today (Monday) as soon as they opened to ask what gives. And guess what? When I got home they had fixed it! The national nightmare is over, I can get back in my own bed!

And now I realize how incredibly lucky I am that I even have the option of air conditioning and I feel like a whiny little punk for even bitching about it. That's middle class guilt for you.

PS: this might also be the first blog post ever where when I ran spellchecker, I got the message "no misspellings found." Go me!

St. Maarten and the Floating Tiki Hut of Magic

Are we at the end already? Unfortunately, yes. Time for the last post about my Eastern Caribbean cruise vacation. Insert sad face here.

You might have noticed that I skipped a few stops, basically because when it comes to two of the islands I decided to just not to do anything and stay on the ship. I sat by the pool, read a lot, and just in general hung out and enjoyed my vacation. But the last full day of our cruise we had our final, and favorite, shore excursion. Ladies and gentleman, I give you: the floating tiki hut of St. Maarten.

Tucked in a little cove on St. Marrten in the Caribbean Sea, the floating tiki hut is just what it sounds like. A tiki hut (with bar and grill) that floats on the water. There are deck chairs, as you can see, and full snorkel gear. So basically, you can snorkel, then relax in the sun in a deck chair, grab a burger and a rum punch, and then just jump off the side and swim in the warm, clear water.

Nice, huh?

There was a boat that traveled back and forth from our cruise ship so people were free to stay at the tiki hut as long as they wanted. Which for me, Chris, and Patrick meant that we stayed there all day. They packed up around us, closed up the hut, and we took the last boat back with the staff. Because when you have that sweet a set-up, you don't leave. Unless you're Kent, in which case you head back after about 2 hours. But, bless him. It's his way.

By the end of the afternoon, when we were the only guests left at the tiki hut, the bar staff was just giving the rum punch to us for free to help get rid of it. Chris and Patrick got a bit, shall we say, toasted, but I figured one of us should stay sober-ish. So we kicked back, drank, and enjoyed the tunes piped in from the staff's iPod playlist.

Snorkeling in the cove was even more fun than our first stop since there was lots more to see. We hunted around for cannons that had blown off Fort Amsterdam in a hurricane, and looked at a sunken yacht, super colorful fish, lobsters, urchins, and the occasional scuba-diver. All in all, it was the perfect day.

And they let me drive the boat back! (not really)

So I bet you're wandering, "wow, this all looks great, but what did you guys do when you were on the boat?" And even if you weren't wondering that, I'm going to tell you. We did a lot of roh roh-ro-oh-oh-ing from Lady Gaga's Bad Romance (and Patrick and I performed an epic dance number to it in the dance club one night), we also did a lot of mocking of the Southern people we spent the day with on Dominica ("oh my word!"), and we did a lot of karaoke. A LOT of karaoke. Almost every night. And we might have done some choreographing of our karaoke routines, just to make sure we were up to snuff. But our perseverance was rewarded, as we received several medals for our karaoke performances. The karaoke lady was also very impressed with Patrick's acting resume...in fact, they showed the remake of Fame (which he appeared in) our first night on the ship. Coincidence, but a happy one.

So that about wraps up the vacation recap. We came, we saw, we conquered, and I avoided getting a sunburn. Think of it: pasty ol' me in the Caribbean and I managed to avoid any sunburn, thanks to my trusty SPF 75. I hope to definitely go back some day, but maybe next time pick a lighter itinerary. An island a day was very ambitious. And as you can see, it takes a lot of energy to sit around and relax all the time.

Did I mention that I got a coconut monkey drink? And you know that coconut came home.

St. Lucia and the Volcanic Mud Bath

The adventure continues! After the coral paradise of Barbados, it was back to the volcanoes on St. Lucia (pronounced Loosha). Kent and I had signed up for an excursion on this island, one that involved slathering ourselves in hot volcanic mud. Score.

But first, we had to endure a two hour drive to the volcanic park. And I say endure, because St Lucia is hilly. Actually, it's VERY hilly. I don't think we encountered a single straight stretch of road. We're talking winding, twisting roads here. The volcano might have actually only been like 30 miles from the ship, but we had to take such a circuitous route to get there it was INSANE.

But the longish drive to the volcano meant that we got a great view of the island. We did some of the scenic overlook action, and then drove up to a place called Marigot Bay. According to wiki, it's considered the most beautiful bay in the Caribbean and has been featured in movies like Doctor Dolittle (the Rex Harrison version) and Romancing the Stone. I think our guide also mentioned that they shot some scenes from Pirates of the Caribbean there, but don't quote me on that.

While driving around the island, we also a ton of banana plantations. I know it sounds crazy, but I found all the information about bananas pretty fascinating. Turns out, each tree produces only one bunch of bananas (but you can get up to 200 in a bunch), and the bunches are wrapped in these special blue bags to protect them from insects and the sun. We also drove by pineapple groves (and saw baby pineapples!) and tons of bread fruit and mango trees.

But the island is most famous for the Pitons, two large volcanic mountains that are called "volcanic plugs." Right next to them are active sulphur springs and pools of volcanic mud which were our final destination!


There was no doubt where we were when we got to the volcanic park; the smell of sulphur was very evident. Or as Kent so eloquently put it, "it smells like damn rotten eggs here." He seemed particularly sensitive to the smell, but I had spent every summer of my youth in Hot Springs, Virginia where there are natural mineral springs that smelled pretty much the same. So I guess it was familiar to me. Anyway, we got a brief tour around the park, seeing the natural springs (with temperatures over 120 degrees) and a broad volcanic wasteland area with bubbling pools of boiling mud. It looks like an alien landscape right out of Star Trek. People actually aren't allowed to walk around on it anywhere since a tour guide fell through the ground and sustained second degree burns on half his body (he survived and fell through because of air pockets underground).

Then it was on to the baths. We walked down a few stairs and there was a pool of hot mud. And it was HOT. The first time I tried to stand in it (it was about ankle to mid-calf high) I had to jump right out. But the best method was just to grin and bear it for about a minute, and then the body acclimated to the change. The mud was actually on the bottom of the pool; you just scooped it up and rubbed it all over your body. And it felt amazing. It was chock full of minerals and the bits of gravel acted like a natural exfoliant. Once we washed it all off in the shower, I could not believe how smooth my skin felt...for several days afterwards! Of course I walked around with volcanic mud under my fingernails for the next 3 days, but it was so worth it.

Me and Kent rock the "volcanic mud" look, straight from the runways of Paris and Milan.

After our mud bathing, Kent went in search of food as he is want to do and we bought some amazing fried chicken and fried bread (think of it as a pita combined with a tortilla). I know we were in a total tourtisty area, but it still felt somewhat cool to be enjoying the local cuisine. All of our meals had been eaten on ship before then, and while I'm not the most adventurous diner, I enjoyed sampling the local flavor.

Then it was back on the van for our return ride! And it seemed even more twisty on the way back. Although we did get to stop at a fab overlook restaurant to take in the view and rum punch. Ah, rum punch. It's like the water of the Caribbean.

A few more pictures:

Mangoes (yes, I think they look like balls too)

Mineral pool at the volcanic park

Me and Marigot Bay. Thanks to the nice Australians who took my picture since Kent had wandered off to look at souvenirs.

Barbados

On the third day of our cruise, we hit the island paradise of Barbados. Of all the islands on our itinerary, Barbados was the one I had actually heard of. I've always pictured it as an island oasis for the wealthy and envisioned smooth white beaches and blue water. And guess what? I was right! But there's also a whole lot more going on there, as we discovered on our little tour.

Barbados was the one day where we didn't have anything planned. We didn't book any excursions, just figured we would wander off the boat, find our way to the beach, and have some fun. As exited the port, we saw a sign for a tour of the island that cost $20 and would end at the beach and we figured, why not? We piled in a 10 seater van with some fellow cruisers and set off.

The tour ended up not being as exciting as I had hoped, although I did pick up a few tidbits. For example, Barbados, unlike our previous stop of Dominica, is not a volcanic island but instead made up coral. So all the rocks? Little bits of coral. Also, for $25,000 a night you can get a suite at the ritzy hotel on the island. Yeah, $25, 000. YIKES.

We also saw St. James Church, which was the first church on the island. It was built by the English and stunning inside. The whole things looked to be made out of coral and wood and just seemed to glow.


We also drove through the first village founded by freed slaves on the island and got a gander at the Freedom Memorial. Very moving. Not that long ago, the entire island was covered with sugarcane and men and women performed the most backbreaking, difficult, dangerous work you can imagine: harvesting the sugarcane and turning it into rum.

Then we drove around the island up to a scenic overlook where you could see all the way to the Atlantic Ocean and then turn around and see all the way to Caribbean Sea. I was surprised by how much the landscape actually reminded my of England; green rolling hills, lots of trees, and of yeah, the occasional group of King Palms. They don't really have those in England, I suppose. At the scenic overlook there was also a monkey, but it made me sad how gross all the tourists were around it. Throwing things at it and basically taunting it. People really suck sometimes, you know?

People who don't suck? Us. We respect the monkey.

But things got better. After a quick and pointless stop at a mahogany craftsman (???), we hit the beach at Carlyle Bay. This was probably the most gorgeous beach I have ever been to....it had the softest smoothest white sand and the water was so blue. I swam further out in the ocean than I ever have before (almost to the buoys) since you could see the bottom and it was just a smooth sandy ocean floor. Also, the water was unbelievably warm. I've never actually "swum" in the ocean before, it's always cold, and pebbly, and gross, and I am kind of scared of jellyfish--so I usually just go in up to my knees or so. But here it was just so easy and relaxing.


And I didn't get sunburned. Reapplication every 45 minutes, people!

Dominica

Our second day of the cruise, we set off for the volcanic island of Dominica. Our excursion this day was a two-fer. We would start off by traveling to a rainforest and seeing the Emerald Pool, a waterfall and natural pool. Then we were heading over to a volcanic (black sand) beach, which has definitely been on my list of things to do for a long time.

We met up with our tour right outside the the port and rolled our eyes at some very obnoxious very southern people speaking very loudly and yelling at each other. Chris said, "thank goodness they're not on our tour," and of course two seconds later they climbed aboard our van and were on our tour. Swell. So despite their clearly right-wing belief system ("oh, you went to school in Virginia? My son applied to Liberty!") they were very nice people once we got to know them. Also, we ended up spending the rest of the trip making fun of they way they talked by saying things like, "oh my word!" at every opportunity, but it was all in good fun.

Chris, me, and Patrick at a photo spot above the capital city of Dominica, Roseau. That's our ship, the Carnival Victory, in the background.

The rainforest on the island was very cool. It was very primordial and spawned lots of Jurassic Park quotes from me and Patrick since it had that kind of feel to it. Huge trees, ferns, and other deep green plants everywhere. We first spied the waterfall from above and then hiked down to the actual pool. Chris and Patrick went into the water, but I didn't want to sit around in my wet bathing suit while we drove to the beach, so I declined. But I did clamber over the rocks and climb around the back of the waterfall to get some neat pics.

After we hiked back out of the rainforest (in a rain shower, no less) we loaded back into the van and headed to the beach. Driving through the island was interesting. It's beautiful and colorful, but there is a lot of poverty. It's actually not as bad as I was expecting, no shanty towns or the like, but it is definitely striking. And the juxtaposition of being on this fabulous vacation against the poverty was not lost on me. But I assuage my guilt by knowing that I am there putting money into the economy and maybe helping that way? Anyway, these are the kind of things that you can't help but think about.

We got to the volcanic beach and trust me, it was very cool. There was a little snack bar where you could get drinks (such as rum punch!) and we got beach chairs and umbrellas. There was also this guitar playing/singing guy who serenaded us with reggae versions of classic songs while we relaxed. The only downsides of the volcanic beach were 1) the sand got REALLY hot, and 2) there was a strip of rocks that you had to get past to get the nice sandy ocean-bottom. But nothing's ever easy right and once you got to the nice warm water, it was all worth it.

White foot, black sand.

After several hours, it was back on the van for the trip back. Patrick and I started singing (as is our way) and we caught the ears of the Southerners in the van. Eventually we got everyone singing along to some Motown favorites, and the Southerners promised to stop by the karaoke lounge to catch our act (more on that later). It was just kind of cool how we started out not really knowing or wanting to know the people on the tour, but by the end we are all buddies.

Coming up next time: Barbados!

Ahoy, Matey!

I know what you're thinking. "Where has Maggie been? I miss her witty comments regarding the every day minutiae of her life!"

Well, the answer, gentle readers, is that I have been on vacation. Yes, once again I have set sail for lands unknown (at least to me) and went on another cruise. This time I hit the Eastern Caribbean, and I thought I could take you through the trip bit by bit, sharing all the delightful tales of my adventures.

The cruise (aboard the Carnival Victory) left out of San Juan, Puerto Rico. This was my first time in PR, but we really didn't get a chance to do a lot of sight-seeing for a couple reasons. 1) It was really hot there. And it is NOT a dry heat. It's even more humid than it is here in DC, believe it or not. 2) We were all pretty exhausted. First from having traveled down to PR, and after our arrival back in San Juan, from all the fun we had on the ship. So unfortunately my impressions of San Juan are limited to a bit of walking around Old Town San Juan (kind of like Old Town Alexandria but Spanish influenced rather than English) and what I could see out of the hotel window.

Our cruise was a 7 day trip through the "exotic Eastern Caribbean" and included a new island every day, which got to be a bit overwhelming. We didn't actually push off from San Juan until 10pm the first night, so we treated it as a day at sea, running around and getting acquainted with the ship, which not surprisingly, had an identical layout to the ship from my last cruise. Thanks, Carnival, for preventing me from getting hopelessly lost at sea. Get it?

And guess what the very first thing we did on the ship was?

Mai Tais!

Our first stop the very next day was at St. Thomas. We didn't actually spend time on the island though, since we had all signed up for a snorkeling excursion. It was my first time snorkeling and I have to admit, I was a bit nervous. I've never been before, and I was convinced I would somehow screw it up. I mean, I can barely walk across my living room without crashing into something. How was I going to fare in the ocean? Luckily for me, turns out snorkeling is basically idiot-proof. I didn't even have a problem with my mask fogging. And it was fascinating being able to actually see all the life that teems right below the surface of the sea. You can see it in pictures and on television all you want, but actually seeing it, right there only a few feet away, is actually really amazing.

Me and Kent post-snorkel. You can see the mask marks on our faces if you look close.

Up next: the volcanic island of Dominica (pronounced like a girl's name ("Dominique-a")).

Constitution: -5

Well, here we are again. Just four weeks after getting over a hellacious cold, I'm feeling sickly. It's not quite a cold, not quite the flu, but this weird sore throat, achy, fatigue, headachy hybrid. As soon as I woke up with a sore throat on Monday I knew the bell had tolled. That's always how it starts for me: a sore throat. It usually then progresses to the stuffy nose and fever stage, but thankfully I seem to have dodged the bullet. But that still leaves me with the aches and exhaustion.

The sad thing is, I've always prided myself on my constitution. I only get sick about once a year, usually the above mentioned cold, but this is my second time being sick in less than two months. Boo. I'm going to chalk it up to several things: the sudden and WTF change of temperature the past few days, the stress of the past couple weeks with all my family issues, and my tendency to work a lot. I know, I know, everyone thinks I work too much (although I don't really agree), but I can't argue that I've been pushing myself hard lately. And this is the result.

I want ice cream.

Things to do in DC: National Aboretum

Confession time: I had never been to the National Arboretum. I've lived in the DC area basically my entire life, but had never been And what's even worse? My MOM had never been to the National Arboretum. She's lived in the area her entire life (which is about 25 years longer than me) and had also never been. So I was looking for something that we could do on her birthday, which was two weeks ago on Monday, April 19th, and someone happened to mention the National Arboretum it seemed like the perfect solution. And then we learned the azaleas were in full bloom and it was a no brainer.

Yeah, we're kind of dorks that way.

First things first: the organizers of the National Arboretum are very smart. They know that people are going to want to walk around, but since we are Americans and lazy and fat we aren't going to want around too much. So everything in the Arboretum is driveable and walkable. Mom and I opted for the combo pack: we drove to the beginnings of where we wanted to go and then wandered/hiked through the area, but could then head back to the car and drive to the next display. Which could be almost a mile away, so I prefer to think of it as being efficient rather than lazy.

We weren't there too long, it was a weekday after all and there was traffic to consider, but we managed to hit the azaleas, boxwoods, Capitol columns (moved to the Arboretum after the renovating of the Capitol building), and drove through most of the other areas. We didn't get a chance to see the bonsais, because by then Mom was getting antsy and wanted to head home, but you always gotta leave something for next time, right?

But if you're looking for a really lovely place to take a walk with plenty of parking (and dog-friendly) this is the place for you. And did I mention it's free? Awesome.

Pink azalea

Mom communing with nature. The funny part is, about two seconds after I took this picture she tripped and fell on a tree root and went flat on her face. Now you all know where I got my natural grace.

Me standing by the Capitol columns (look close).

I love this picture. Doesn't it look like some fairytale path leading to a magic kingdom? Although it could also lead to a witch's cottage who will then try to kill you in some overly complicated way so she can munch on your bones. Let's just say it's a nice azalea-lined trail, eh?

There's a lot I want to tell you about my Grandmother. First, that she lived to be 89 years old, which is a pretty big accomplishment all by itself. She lived from 1920 to 2010; think about all the things she saw and all the history she lived. Some good, some bad, but still--almost an entire century of history.

The next thing I want to tell you about my Grandmother is that I am named after her. But not really. She was born Margaret Virginia Riley, while I am Margaret Ann Riley. My Grandmother hated the middle name Virginia; apparently she really disliked the Virginia she was named after. Remember, she was born before Social Security, so when the time came to sign up for her card, she told them her name was Margaret Ann Riley. From then on, she was known as Margaret Ann Riley on all official documents. And so am I. Although I have to admit, I've always been partial to the name Virginia and would have must preferred it to Ann. But I didn't get a vote owing to the fact that I was still a good 40 years or so down the road.

Names were always important to my Grandmother. When she was in fifth grade she was expelled from school. The reason? Some kid on the playground called her Maggie. She responded by beating his head repeatedly into the asphalt until the nuns pulled her off him. But nobody ever called her Maggie again after that.

My grandmother married my grandfather in 1945, right before he left to fight with the Navy in World War II. When they met, they hit it off right away, and he introduced himself as Earl. He asked if he could call her sometime, and she replied, "Sure. As long as you have a name other than Earl." Good thing his name was actually William Earl, or I might never have been born to write this blog post.

People throw around words like "feisty," "spitfire," but Grandma really was. She was also tenacious, stubborn, and very set in her ways. There was a right way and a wrong way, and hers was the right way. And usually it was best just to get out of the way and let her take care of whatever needed doing. It was easier on everyone.

At her memorial service on April 27th, Father Chuck noted most of what I said above, but he added that Grandma was always classy, always a lady, and always elegant. Not only were the things that she did done well, they were done right. Grandma took pride in presenting herself, her home, and her family in a proper way with all the care that many years experience can bring. She was the type of woman who would not venture out of the house without properly combed hair, and perfectly applied lipstick. Example: at around the age of 80 she was helping my Dad dig the holes for the foundation of her deck (in the summer heat having given blood earlier in the day no less) and passed out. When the paramedics arrived, she refused to go to the hospital, as her hair was still in curlers. They made her sign the release form and everything, but damned if she was going to the hospital with curlers in her hair.

But she would go anywhere, no matter how far the distance, if someone in her family was in need. She was always the first one to offer help, whether it was a hug, a hand, a casserole, or a word of encouragement. She was the head of our family, our matriarch, and our center. There's a hole now, no doubt, and it's up to us all to try to live up to her example. After all, you could do much worse than be feisty, tenacious, and classy.

Oh, but you can call me Maggie. Or Margaret if you like. Either way, I think of her when you say it.

MARGARET ANN RILEY (Age 89) passed away on April 21, 2010. Born in Minneapolis, Minnesota on June 14, 1920, Margaret was a current resident of Alexandria, Virginia, and an active member of Good Shepherd Catholic Church. She is proceeded in death by her husband William Earl Riley, parents William and Margaret NcNelly, three brothers, William, Bernard, and Thomas and one sister, Mary Heald. Margaret is survived by three children, W. Thomas Riley, Roz (wife), David L. Riley, Linda (wife), and Kimberlee A. Riley and seven grandchildren: Sharon E. Riley, William B. and Amanda Riley, Margaret A Riley, Marin and Scott Darone, Brian Nicholson. A memorial service will be held on Tuesday, April 27, 2010 at 11:00am at Good Shepherd Catholic Church, 8710 Mount Vernon Highway, Alexandria, VA, 22309. In lieu of flowers, contributions may be made to the cancer charity of the donor's choice or the Geriatric ward of the Veterans Administration Hospital of the donor's choice.

Belated Birthday

It only makes sense that I would be late in blogging about my birthday celebration when the party itself took place more than a month late. Blame it on the rain; or more accurately, the snow. The original event was scheduled for my actual birthday weekend back in February when a big group of us was going to head up to Atlantic City. Nature, it seemed, had other plans. Specifically, a blizzard. If you remember, Chris, Kent, and I managed to outrun the storm and make it up there but everybody else was trapped in a snowbound DC. The back-up plan was to return to Atlantic City in March, but again, things didn't work out. Turns out in the Spring hotel rooms in Atlantic City are twice as expensive as they are in the winter (go figure). So, alas, our plans were once again foiled, this time by the over-priced casinos.

But all hope was not lost! I figured, why should I miss out on a birthday extravaganza just because some stupid casinos are trying to gouge me? We then came up with a third plan: instead of travelling somewhere to party, we would just do it here. Dinner and bar-hopping in National Harbor on Saturday combined with a huge sleepover, and then brunch and massages on Sunday. And this time, everything went off without a hitch.

First, we had dinner at Ketchup, which I am afraid to say, had terrible service and only so-so food. The manager was very willing to discount our tab and throw in some free drinks when we complained, but still. I had such high hopes, but I can't really recommend it.

And then. Onwards to the country-western themed bar for more drinks, dancing, and yes, riding the bull. For you see, there is an electric bull, and who doesn't enjoy that. Kelly, Tito, and Rachel all braved the bull with Rachel posting the best time, probably due to her mad horseback riding skillz.

Tito in mid-fling from the bull.

At this point, I had consumed several gin and tonics (though not as much as Selvi, ha) and can vaguely remember singing the song Dance Magic from the movie Labyrinth. You remember the one, "you remind me of the babe/what babe/the babe with the power." Yeah, I'm not really sure what brought that up.

Since I am now officially old, by the time 12:30 or so rolled around I was pretty wiped, so we all headed back to my place for some slumber-partying and Avatar: The Last Airbender watching. And yes, we are all nerds. What of it? After about 6 hours of sleep (ugh) it was time to get up and head out to brunch at the City Diner down the street where we gorged on eggs, sausage, milk shakes, pancakes, and all other assorted brunchy things.

AND THEN. What might have been the best part of the weekend: massages. Believe it or not, it was my first body massage, and while it didn't blow my mind like I was hoping, it was definitely relaxing and quite enjoyable. Selvi and I were in the same room, I guess where they do the couples massages, so we giggled over things like my masseuse saying "your forearms are so tight" and Selvi apologizing for her "head being so lumpy."At the end I did not want to move and walking was a bit of a challenge...but there was hard cider and french fries to be had at the Irish pub across the street so I managed to drag myself out. Oh, and we had to eat the six or so pieces of cake that we brought back from the diner, right?

Mmmm...cake.

All in all it was a superfun weekend spent with superfun people and one of the best birthdays ever. Thirty Smirty. I say, bring it!

Screw you, Spring.

Yeah, that's right I said it. Yes, the trees in bloom and the flowers are so pretty and it's daylight longer and blah blah blah.

It hit 90+ degrees yesterday, people. In the FIRST WEEK OF APRIL. This is unacceptable. Those are August-type temperatures, not April. At least in the summer I can seek the refuge of the swimming pool, or my air-conditioned condo, but not in April. Because guess what? They don't turn on the AC in my building until May 1 due to some lame-o Alexandria city law. So you know what I do when it is over 90 degrees in my apartment in April? I sit there and sweat, that's what I do.

Also, I had to sleep with the window open last night (since it was so hot) and now I have an increasing sore throat because of the bucket-load of pollen I inhaled.

SO FUCK YOU SPRING. Go back where you came from.

Rally to Repeal

I talk a big talk, but when it comes to actual action, sometimes I'm a bit lacking. I always vote, I donate money to organizations I believe in, but I'm not really one of those extremely motivated political activist people who is constantly up in arms about something and marching, demonstrating, and rallying. I'd like to think that if I was present back in the 1950s and 1960s, I would have been a big force for social change, but who really knows. I guess there's no accounting for laziness.

Last week, while killing time on Facebook, I noticed that a friend was attending an event called "Rally to Repeal 'Don't Ask, Don't Tell.'" at Freedom Plaza Thursday at noon. This caught my eye for several reasons. One, I'm always trying to help out the gays. Two, here was a perfect opportunity to participate in something I believed in. Three, Kathy Griffin was going to be there and I think she's really funny. And four, the weather was supposed to be gorgeous and it was a good reason to get out of the office.

It turned out there was a group of us who were interested so a bit before noon we struck out from the office to Freedom Plaza to get all fired up. I would say there were several hundred people there by the time the rally got started, plus many more just in general milling around and enjoying the gorgeous lunch-time weather. There were several speakers, whose names' escape me (I know, I suck), but they were all impassioned, articulate, and excellent. Kathy was funny, as usual, and described her adventures while sitting in on the Congressional hearings addressing "Don't Ask, Don't Tell," as well as the various politicos she ran into. Also, she is SO TINY in real person. Practically pocket-sized.

Kathy ended calling up a soldier who had been discharged under DADT but had been invited back by his unit. I'm not sure how common that is, but apparently it does happen. His name I remember, Dan Choi, because he kind of hijacked the rally, told everyone he was marching over to the Whitehouse, and then chained himself to the gates. I am not making this up. He was then arrested, as can happen when you chain yourself to the Whitehouse fence. From what I have been able to read in the press, it was NOT planned by the organizers of the rally for this to happen, but it sure was entertaining. Although I'm not sure that is the way to bring about real change these days. Really it just kind of makes you look like a fool. I prefer to stick with mobilizing people through inspiration, not by getting my ass arrested. But what do I know? I've only been to the one rally.

Ominous

There are a couple things that happen in life and you just KNOW something bad is coming. Example: the phone rings VERY late at night. This is not often accompanied by good news. Example: an email from your boss saying, "please come by and see me." Chances are he or she is not going to tell you won some kind of special super secret award based on excellent performance.

And another example: a long rectangular piece of paper stuck on your windshield. This usually means one of two things: you either got some kind of ticket from the fuzz, or someone bashed into your car but was "nice" enough to leave a note.

Oh, yeah. You're fucked.

So when I approached my car last night and saw just such a piece of paper attached to my car, I experienced the old "heart jumped into my throat" cliche. Your pulse speeds up, your mouth goes dry, you get a sense a hint of hysteria, and all of a sudden a million thoughts spring into your mind.

"How could I get a parking ticket in a Metro garage? I didn't park in a reserved spot did I? What about a handicapped spot? Oh, god, someone must have hit my car and left a note. Where did they get me? Is there any damage? Did they just open their door into my door and scratch it? Maybe it's all on the other side? It definitely looks like a hand-written note on lined paper. Oh, god, please let me be able to drive the car home."

And then, as I drew closer, I noticed the handwriting looked kind of familiar. I took a deep breath, grabbed the note and read:

"Marg, what are you doing at Huntington? I walked by and saw your car, wish I saw you. Love you!" --Mom @ 5 pm"

My Mom had seen my car and left me a note. Awwww. Also: THANK THE LORD. Crisis averted.

Nothing to see here, just move along....

I suppose everyone goes through periods when they feel like nothing much is happening in their lives. But it's not really true. I mean, SOMETHING is always happening, right? For example: this morning it is dreary and rainy and cold and I just want to curl back up in bed but instead I got up early to come into work because I always feel like I am not working hard enough even though I work like 6 days a week and am way ahead but still.

But that's not very interesting.

You've probably noticed that I haven't updated the blog in awhile. And it's not because I'm feeling lazy, or I've become too busy. Almost every day I ponder for a good minute or so (and that's actually a long time to ponder something, at least for me) what I could write on the blog. And I come up blank.

This is the same problem I have when people ask the question, "so what have you been up to?" Unless you've gotten engaged, married, had a baby, started a new job, or had some other life changing event, it's kind of hard to answer that question. Up until a couple months ago I used to be able to talk about how I had recently renovated my kitchen, but that's old news. Now all it seems I'm left with is, "oh, you know. Working, hanging out with friends, the usual." And while that's true, it feels really really lame to say.

So even though things have been going on lately, like that I've been busy planning a vacation to England in August, organizing a fun weekend at the end of this month for a belated birthday celebration, getting ready for a week-long work trip to Reno, rushing here and there for various social activities with friends and family, there's no real good way to relate these kind of general happenings.

So what have I been up to lately? Oh, you know. The usual.

For a good time, call a Jew.

Last Saturday, my youngest cousin Sarah had her bat mitzvah. For those not in the know (from wiki):

According to Jewish law when Jewish children reach the 13 years for boys and 12 for girls they become responsible for their actions, and "become a Bar or Bat Mitzvah". In many Conservative and Reform synagogues, girls celebrate their Bat Mitzvahs at age 13, along with boys. This also coincides with physical puberty. Prior to this, the child's parents hold the responsibility for the child's adherence to Jewish law and tradition and, after this age, children bear their own responsibility for Jewish ritual law, tradition, and ethics and are privileged to participate in all areas of Jewish community life.

So basically, when someone turns 13 in the Jewish faith, they are considered an adult member of the community. And you know what that means...

PARTY!

During the service at Sarah's home synagogue in Maryland, my mother turned to me and said, "there's a lot of joy in this room, isn't there?" And it's true. The room was full of people who were bursting with pride for Sarah, and not just because her reading of the Torah was magnificent and her speech was wonderful. But because they had seen her grow up into a poised and, dare I say, wise young woman. I know that sounds cheesy, but what can I say? Sometimes the cliche is true. And when Jews are happy, they aren't ones to stay quiet about it.

Seriously, Jews take any excuse to sing, clap, stamp our feet, bang on the table, dance, shout, and find any way to express happiness. And that's why they're great. Oh, and did I mention the wine drinking? My people! Gotta love them.

After the service, we spent a fun afternoon visiting with one my mother's 40 cousins (....that may not be that great of an exaggeration), and then it was off to the community rec center for the party. There were sparkly masks to go along with the Mardi Gras theme, cupcakes, and drinks. Drinks that me and Mom's cousins promptly spiked with the bourbon and gin we snuck in with us. What? I said we took any excuse to party!

And I even managed to get Mom and some of her cousins out on the floor to dance along with all of Sarah's 13 year old friends. It was a bat mitzvah miracle!

Who is that masked woman?

Mom does love her gin. Shh! Don't tell.

Round and round they go...

Step It Up

Well, I guess that decides it. Both my parents have suffered major cardiac problems within the past two years (before the age of 60) and at least one grandparent on each side of my family has died from heart-related problems (just before or after 60). What does that mean for me?

I'm totally hosed.

But I guess that really depends on me. After my mother had a heart attack, I decided to make some major lifestyle changes. I cut out processed food, began to really pay attention to my sodium intake, and became more dedicated to working out. And I lost about 20 lbs. Recently though I seem to have plateaued, and now its time to step it up.

Since about November of last year I've been focusing on working out at least 5 times a week. But here are the new rules: a "work out" consists of at least 30 minutes of solid activity. If I don't sweat buckets, it doesn't count. I'm also going to keep track of the workouts. I got some great suggestions over from my peeps on Facebook, including one from my friend Lis' blog (Inchoate Debate) to make a workout calendar with big red Xs on the days where I meet my goal. To help motivate myself, for every month that I meet the 5 workout a week goal, I'm going to treat myself to a reward. An item from my Amazon wishlist, a manicure or pedicure, or maybe some neat workout gear, but it will be something. FYI, I always go for the carrot rather than the stick, at least when it comes to self-motivation. Never underestimate the power of a good stick when trying to motivate others.

I'm also going to do better about keep track of my progress (i.e. buying an actual scale) and measuring my blood pressure. Maybe my first workout reward will a blood pressure machine!

Hmm. I'm not sure the "new blood pressure machine!" is really doing it for me in terms of a reward. So maybe I'll go for the Doctor Who specials on blu-ray instead.

There you have it: 5 workouts a week, continue avoiding processed food and eating lots of fruits and vegetables, and in general keep living an active life. I also can't wait for the weather to warm up so I can get back to my walks. After Mom's heart attack I started walking in the evenings and weekends about two to three times a week and I was pleasantly surprised by how much I have missed it since the winter kicked in. It's funny how quickly something can become a habit. So come on Spring, get me back out there!

30 year old Maggie and week old snow.

On Saturday my family and I celebrated my 30th birthday rescheduled from my actual birthday when Dad had his surgery. He's still doing great, so we gathered at his and Linda's (my stepmom) house for some birthday fun!

A couple of things made this a really great party. First, the cake was AMAZING. Chocolate cake with peanut butter frosting and Reese's Cups stuck in it. But here, take a look.



I know, right? Awesome.

The second thing that made the party great was that my brother was there! He had come into town to see Dad and it meant he was around for the birthday celebration. I only get to see him a couple times a year, so having a bonus-Bill visit was a definite silver lining to my Dad's operation. He lent his usual Bil-ness to the proceedings, as he referred to my new flip-flops (which were a birthday gift from my Aunt) as resembling a "pink muppet." Of course, he had a point.

Ok, so maybe they do like muppets. And have pom poms. But aren't they cute?

Before gorging ourselves on stroganoff and cake, we went for a walk with Dad and had some fun in the snow. Or I should say I had played around in the snow and Dad and Bill laughed at me and took pictures. And video.

Take that snow! I have conquered you!

Atlantic City, Hey Hey Hey!

First, the most important part, a Dad update! He's doing great, is home, and no worries. Whew! But really, him being ok was the best birthday present ever. Plus, now we get a bonus visit from my brother out of the deal and he usually only comes home like twice a year. So, bright side.

Since Dad was doing so well after his surgery on Wednesday, my stepmom gave me the go-ahead to head out of town as planned for my Atlantic City birthday extravaganza! Unfortunately for me, there was also a huge blizzard coming down DC way so instead of 12 of my favorite peeps coming with me, only Chris and Kent were able to go since we had to hit the road early on Friday to beat the storm. But we were determined to make the best of it, have a great time, and outrun the oncoming storm!

The first flakes started to fall about 10 am on Friday morning, and we hit the road by 11. Luckily nothing was actually sticking to the pavement so the roads were clear. We also managed to stay ahead of the snow, and once we got out of Baltimore there was no more snow to be found! Until late in the evening when it started snowing in Atlantic City, but honestly it didn't really affect us. AC only got about 8 inches and the good thing about housed in a luxury hotel and casino? Everything you need is available without having to take a step outside.

Friday night we went to dinner at the McCormick & Schmidt's located in the hotel, where Chris arranged a little surprise for me.

He got my name and happy birthday on the menu! I felt like such a star.

Saturday was a day for relaxation. We rented a private cabana alongside the indoor pool that came with personal food and beverage service. We literally lounged all day, watching tv (the cabana comes with a flat screen), napping, drinking, reading, and just relaxing.

A shot of our private cabana with the pool in the background.

So what if I was drunk by 11:30 in the morning? I was on vacation, dammit. Stop judging me!

The snow and ice continued to pile up on the dome over the pool all day Saturday. But did we care? Nope! The pool stays a constant 82 degrees, so were nice and comfy.

And in the evening, we hit the casino! Which basically consists of me following Chris and Kent around to different slot machines and them being nice enough to let me hit the button and participate in the fun video bonuses in a lot of the games.

Since the snow wasn't that bad, the roads were clear by Sunday morning and we were able to get to the Atlantic City outlet mall and do some serious retail damage. The Kenneth Cole store was having a special sale where everything was 44% off, so yeah. I ended up getting 3 pairs of shoes. But trust me, they are AWESOME.

When we got back we hit the casino again where I gambled my *gasp* $20 away on my favorite slot machine, Goldfish. It gives you a lot of good bonuses where you get to play fun games with the cartoon fish. I know, it sounds lame, but it's actually real fun. And I ended up getting to play for over an hour with just my $20 so it was worth it.

Me playing Goldfish. Best game ever!

Oh, and there was some kind of football game going on? Maybe some kind of Bowl? That might have been Super? But seriously folks, it was Superbowl Sunday, but we were having such a good time in the casino we didn't actually watch any of the game except the last 3 minutes (which actually equated to the last 30 minutes of the game). Still, we got to the Saints take it which made me really happy.

Monday morning we had to pack up and hit the road, but Chris and Kent managed to squeeze in some more gambling time at the Goldfish slots...even if I was too lame not to put in any more money. Then it was back in the road to arrive home...just in time for the next blizzard that came Tuesday. Couldn't have planned that one better if we tried.

Coming up next: what I did over my staycation.

Going out with a bang.

Tonight is the last night of my 20s. The last 5 hours of my 20s actually. Here is what I had planned for tonight: relaxing after a rough start to the week by sitting on the couch, watching the premiere of Lost, and blogging and waxing poetic about transitions and entering into the next phase of my life blah blah blah.

Instead I'm spending it trying not to worry myself into a stressball. See, my Dad is having some major surgery tomorrow or the day after. Surprise! And happy birthday!

Obviously I'm not expecting anything to go wrong, but Dad is having a major procedure and nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition, so I'm scared, nervous, worried, feeling helpless, etc. etc. The sad part is that it's all really familiar. Almost two years ago to the day I was in the exact same boat when my Mom had her heart attack. I can't believe I have to go through the same shit all over again.

But I suppose it means that I kind of know what to expect in terms of the emotional toll and the things I can do to help the other members of my family. For example, I'm planning on hanging out at the hospital with my Stepmom and Dad tomorrow, and I know exactly what I should bring with me, things I can bring to them, and how I can try to cheer them up. That's looking on the bright side, right?

So I'm waving goodbye to my 20s, ushering in the 30s, and hoping that when my family does get around to my now-rescheduled birthday dinner we'll have more to celebrate than just my birthday. We'll be celebrating my Dad's full recovery!