The Golden Circle

For our second day in Iceland, we embarked on the famous "Golden Circle" tour. This is the most popular day-long tour in Iceland and one almost every tourist who comes here goes on it.

But before we get to that...

Some notes on Reykjavik (pronounced rake-ya-vek) and Iceland in general. First, everyone here speaks English. Education through the college level is free so the country has 99.98% literacy rate and 60% hold university degrees. That means there are about 2 people in the country who can't read. Heh. The average Icelander graduates college able to speak 4 languages and English is taught to everyone in school from the age of 10 (the other languages they learn are Norwegian (or another Scandinavian language and usually German, plus Icelandic of course). The popularity of English makes it very easy to visit here; if you have a question you can just ask anyone, and all menus and stores have English translations. There are even more English books in the shops than Icelandic!

Second, the people here are very nice and also very good looking. They make them tall and gorgeous here and the kids have the blondest hair I have ever seen!

Third, the food is not as bad as you've heard. While restaurants bill fare such as puffin, whale, and putrefied shark (don't ask) as "traditional" Icelandic fare, it's more of a scam to get tourists in. As our tour guide put it, "you don't see Icelanders sitting down to that at dinner." They're traditional in that they were eaten a long time ago, when Iceland was almost a third world country, but these days, the food is as various as it is in the US. People here are crazy about Thai, Italian, and steakhouses, and the food is generally hearty with a lot of seafood (fishing is the number one industry here). For example, at lunch yesterday we had a typical Icelandic meal of delicious lamb stew with veggies and some rolls. The stew was yummy and hit the spot on a chilly (summer) day.

Ok, so back to the tour. After a quick stop at the bakery across the street from our apartment for some breakfast, we were picked up by the mini-bus (which seats about 18 people) and met our driven Odinn. He was about our age, very knowledgeable, and didn't mind my asking questions and us cracking jokes the entire time. In fact, if we come back, we'll probably get him to give us some private tours. After driving around the city and grabbing our other tour members (we had a full bus) we headed out into the countryside.

As I described previously, the land around the city and airport is basically all lava fields--covered in dense, porous black rock. But once we went further north, we drove through the highlands which reminded me a lot of Scotland. Green and brown mountains jut into the sky, but after about 30 minutes they gave way to the lowlands, where all of Iceland's farms are located.

Thousands of years ago, the lowlands were actually the ocean floor and there's a clear break from the highlands and the lowlands where you can see where the ancient coast was.

Iceland is the largest volcanic island in the world and has over 200 volcanoes, 10 of which are characterized as very active. It's also located on the continental divide between North America and Eurasia so it has a lot of seismic activity. Apparently every 100 years or so they experience an earthquake measuring about 9 on the Richter scale. But all the structures in the country are built to specifically withstand such a quake, and during the most recent earthquake the only injury was a broken toe.

In this picture you can really see the transition from the highlands to the lowlands, and can also see how the highlands were once the coastal cliffs!

The country is powered with geothermal power, where they drill into pockets of pressurized steam down deep in the earth. One geothermal station produces enough electricity to power the entire country and is so automated it only requires two people to run it. Based on this information I have decided Iceland is the perfect place to wait out the zombie apocalypse. It also experiences 21 hours of sunlight in the summer (it finally got dark here around 11 at night) and all the food is organic, free-range, and has no preservatives. It may be a bit more expensive, but it is yummy!

Our first stop on the tour was a volcanic crater, Kerid. It has a lake at the bottom and is actually an implosion crater, formed when the volcano expelled its magma and then collapsed as the empty chamber could not support the weight of the cone. It's quite impressive and has been the site of several concerts utilizing a floating stage on the lake at the bottom.

Just take a few steps back...a few more...a few more...oops, too far!

After the crater and a quick pit stop, we traveled to a waterfall whose name I cannot remember or even hope to spell or pronounce. While not as large as the second waterfall on the tour, this one was still lovely and has the first salmon steps built in Iceland. The river didn't have any natural salmon, but it was stocked for sports fishermen and salmon steps were built to help the salmon get up the falls to spawn.

Salmon steps! For the lazy-ass salmon who can't be bothered to swim up the waterfall. Honestly. What is the world coming to?

Once we had experienced a warm-up waterfall, we were ready for the real thing. The Gulfoss waterfall (translated to Golden Falls) is one of the most popular tourist attractions in Iceland and is stunning. The falls have two main levels and the water falls into a crevice where it then winds its way down a canyon. If I remember our guide correctly, the falls, crevice, and canyon were formed during 5 days when a glacier quickly melted and then flooded the area; basically, the freezing water carved through the rock like a hot knife through butter. It's called the Golden Falls because when the sun hits the water at just the right angle the minerals in the water reflect and turn gold.

Soaking in the nature...

Our next stop (we had a lot of them, huh?) was to the spouting geysers! The largest is called Geysir and was actually the first geyser known to the western world. Turns out all the others are named after it. But it doesn't spout that often, so the real highlight is the geyser Strokkur which spouts every 3-7 minutes. This ended up being a lot more impressive than we were expecting, and Chris has said it was his favorite thing about Iceland. Right before the geyser pops, the water level starts to surge, more steam erupts, and a beautiful blue bubble appears which than spouts water up about 50 feet. Also around the geysers are bubbling pools and steam vents. All very cool in a geothermal kind of way.

Waiting for the geyser to pop...

BOOM!

Out last stop was at Thingvellir National Park which houses the continental divide between North America and Eurasia. Cliffs jut up on either side of a valley where the tectonic plates overlap. It also happens to the be the sight of the first parliament, where medieval clan leaders from Iceland would gather once a year to agree on common laws, hold their courts of justice, and deal out punishment. The cliff backdrop acted as a kind of amphitheater allowing for natural amplification of voices.

The continental divide; one side North America and one side Eurasia

Looking out over the National Park

From there it was back on the bus and back to Reykjavik! We got dropped off right outside our apartment and after a little time to drop off our stuff we walked to dinner at a place called Harry's, rated the number one restaurant in Reykjavik on the Trip Advisor website. It was pretty good, an Asian fusion place, with the main thing in its favor is that it was reasonably priced. Food in Iceland is very expensive, so finding a meal for under $20 (about 2500 kronar) is a pretty big accomplishment.

Coming up next: our Southern Spectacular tour in a super jeep where we go off-roading, touch a glacier, and see more waterfalls!

There and Back Again

Almost 3 weeks to the day from when I left, I return safe if not completely sound (but more on that later). I've been to some places I never imagined I would actually travel (Iceland, Estonia...) and some that have been on my list for quite a while (Amsterdam, Russia). It seems strange to be back among the familiar when the different and unusual became the norm. But I have a ton of stories to share, not to mention the pictures. Over a 1000 in fact!

As a wise woman once said "let's start at the very beginning, a very good place to start...."

I suppose a good first step is to introduce the travelers. There's me, of course. Everyone's favorite accident-prone, sassy ginger. Also coming on the trip were Chris and Kent, a couple that is no stranger to world travel. Several years ago we all went on a trip to the Mediterranean and discovered that we travel really well together. Chris and I have known each other since freshman year of college at William and Mary, and he and Kent have been together almost 9 years. Which means Kent has been my friend for just about that length of time.

The first stop on the epic Scandinavian and Baltic vacation seems at first glance a bit random. "Iceland?" you ask. "Why Iceland?" Turns out the cheapest way to fly to Amsterdam (where our cruise ship was docked) was to take IcelandAir. And to promote tourism, the airline provides for free multi-day layovers to give people a chance to visit Iceland. So there you go. When someone offers you the chance to spend a couple days in Iceland you don't say no.

Things, however, didn't get off to a great start. There were thunderstorms the evening we flew out of Dulles and our flight was delayed 30 minutes. There was a bit of a silver-lining though; we lucked out when checking in and were able to select first class seats without an extra charge--it was just the style of first class seats and not the first class service, but it definitely made for a more comfortable flight. I managed to get probably about 4 hours of sleep on the plane (which is pretty good for me) so I wasn't quite the walking dead when we arrived.

Unfortunately when I roused myself from sleep and stretched in my seat I noticed something was amiss. My gold and garnet pendant (which most people know I wear ALL THE TIME) was missing. The clasp had been slipping every so often, but I never imagined it would actually fall off the chain. After landing a frantic search ensued, with Chris, Kent, my seat-mate, and almost the entire flight crew pitching in with no luck. I reported it to the Reykjavik police and to Dulles, but it wasn't ever found. My vacation had claimed its first casualty. But I was determined to not let it ruin my good time--after all, it was my fault. If I loved it so much I never should have worn it. Live and learn, right?

After giving up the search on the plane, we walked through the small airport to the small baggage check and the small ground transportation area. Our plan was to grab the bus to the Blue Lagoon spa, but alas, we had just missed it and the next one wasn't coming for an hour. For the record, it was 7:30 in the morning in Iceland which meant our bodies thought it was 3:30 in the morning back at home. So we splurged on a cab and had our first view of the Iceland countryside.

In short: it was rugged, wild, and rocky. The entire island is volcanic and the ground is littered with black aerated rock. There aren't really any trees to speak of, but there are green scrubby plants covering the rocks. There are also beautiful blue lakes and mountains with huge geothermal steam vents. Oh, and active volcanoes. Including the one that erupted last year and made it impossible to travel to and from Europe for several weeks. The Blue Lagoon was only about 20 minutes from the airport, and the cab dropped us off at the main entrance. Well, I should say the walkway to the main entrance. We, along with our luggage, had to to wind our way through the path between huge piles of volcanic rock. It was pretty cool.

Steam vents on the way to the Blue Lagoon.

Blue Lagoon from afar

This path either leads to the Blue Lagoon....or Mordor.

But then we hit a snag. The spa itself didn't open until 9:00--but they offered a buffet breakfast starting at 6:30. We had made a reservation and made it there right on time--but the main entrance was locked tight with nobody around. Since it had taken us awhile to lug our luggage to the door we didn't relish the thought of heading back. Kent to the rescue! He wandered off around the building, found the kitchen entrance, and walked around until he found an employee to come let us in. Success!

I should point out that this was so typical Kent. While Chris and I became completely befuddled by a snag in our carefully thought out plan, Kent just surges ahead with a brilliant and totally unconventional idea that saves the day. After we were let in the door and made our way to the restaurant, we ate some yummy food (seriously--some of the best bacon I have ever had) and got a moment to decompress.

An hour later the spa opened and after stowing our luggage in a locker, we changed into our swimsuits and got into the lagoon. The water originates more than 6000 feet underground where it is infused with minerals and all other kinds of good stuff. The pump it up into the lagoon and it's like being in this milky warm hot tub (but without the bubbles). They have boxes of salt scrub that you can run on your face and then wash off, and then we also purchased an algae mask. So basically our faces felt awesome. After floating around the lagoon for a few hours (and getting a drink at the swim-up bar, natch) we headed to the relaxation room to lounge in some anti-gravity chairs. You recline on your back with your legs at a 90 degree angle above you. It takes all stress off your back and feels so good that we all fell asleep for about an hour. But hey, we needed it, right?

Blue Lagoon at dawn.

Right before opening....

Kent and I take advantage of the salt scrub.

I claim Iceland in the name of Maggiedom.

At that point we got our stuff, changed, and were able to get the bus back to downtown Reykjavik. But since it's us nothing is ever simple. Turns out today was Iceland's annual "Cultural Day" where the entire downtown area is closed to automobile traffic. This meant the bus couldn't take us to our hotel and we had to (again) lug our luggage from the bus depot. It took about 10 minutes, but thankfully the sidewalks were relatively even and there was only one hill. We arrived without incident and checked in to our hotel, which was actually an apartment so we have a lot of space. And after all, it isn't a real vacation until the three of us have to lug our bags through a European city.

The interior of our Reykjavik apartment.

By this point we were of course exhausted, but hey, how many times are you in Iceland? So we rallied and went wandering around the city. It was pretty easy since all the roads are closed to traffic and we went in and out of shops, around to the Parliament building and the new Harpa building, a theater and convention center with some interesting architecture. There was also a beautiful waterfront area with mountains right across the bay.

Wandering the street festival in Reykjavik...

Me and Kent and the gay polar bear.

People gather on a grassy lawn for the upcoming concerts.

We headed back to our apartment and while Chris and Kent went back out to see the fireworks at 11:00 (when it still wasn't fully dark) I tucked myself into bed and got some shut-eye. The next day would dawn early and would be jam-packed as we were taking the typical Icelandic tour called The Golden Circle. Geysers, waterfalls, and mountains...oh my!

Where in the World is Maggie?

Did you hear? That I'm going on (another) epic vacation? Cuz I am, you know, just in case you hadn't heard.

People keep asking me where I am going. And since there are a lot of places I figured I would cut out the middle man (me) and just post an itinerary. This way you can follow my trip like the crazy stalkers you are.

Seriously though, I am super excited. This is a trip that has been more than a year in the making and the fact that it is actually here is kind of hard to wrap my head around. Maybe when I am sitting on the plane tomorrow night it will actually hit home....

Friday, August 19: depart from Dulles at 8:40pm

Saturday, August 20-Monday, August 22: Reykajavik, Iceland

Monday, August 22-Friday, August 26: Amsterdam, Netherlands

Friday, August 26: Board the Celebrity Constellation for cruise (I've listed our ports below, all other days are days at sea)

Sunday, August 28: Outside Berlin, Germany

Tuesday, August 30: Stockholm, Sweden

Wednesday, August 31: Helsinki, Finland

Thursday and Friday, September 1 and 2: St. Petersburg, Russia

Saturday, September 3: Tallin, Estonia

Monday, September 5: Copenhagen, Denmark

Wednesday, September 7: back to Amsterdam

Thursday, September 8: come home!

Monday, September 12: back to work (cue sad trombone)

So I'll see you all in September and try not to miss me too much!

Take the Canoli

We must have been crazy. It seemed like a good idea in theory: we're only 4 hours from New York City by bus, so going up for the day seemed easy peasy. But when you take the 6:30 am bus up and the 10:00 pm bus back, you are looking at a long day.

But let me back up. There's a little thing called Harry Potter: The Exhibition. Basically, it has tons of costumes, props, wands, and other delights used during all the Harry Potter films. The exhibition has been making a slow tour of North America since 2009, but has only been in 5 cities, none of which are particularly close to DC. I always figured the exhibition would come here, after all, DC is the home of the Smithsonian and lots of Potter nerds. I kept waiting for them to announce a DC date but alas, the latest news from the website indicated that the show was leaving North America and heading out for international stops in September.

What's a girl to do?! I had to see all that Potter paraphernalia! There was only one choice. Hop the bus to NYC and make a day of it.

I am a big fan of the Bolt bus--for about $20 each way you get a ride up to NYC from downtown DC and for the most part, it's a smooth easy ride. Notice I said "for the most part." But more on that later.

Fellow Potter pundit Chris was up for the adventure, so we got up at the crack of dawn and convinced Kent to drop us off at Union Station at 6 in the morning. Kent's price: a doily. Yeah, I know. Apparently they are good for sidetables. Anyway...

Things got off to a poor start. The bus was about 20 minutes late, but when it did arrive our driver was in a REALLY bad mood. But here's the thing. One man's horribly bitchy is another man's delightfully bitchy, and Chris and I thoroughly enjoyed watching the bus driver yell at those who didn't have their shit together. When she calls boarding group A and you come up there with your boarding group C ticket...bitch, please. This driver was having none of that. And when two latecomers tried to board the bus without having their tickets already loaded on their phones...we thought their asses were going to get left. And frankly, I wouldn't have had a problem with that.

The ride up was mostly without incident and we arrived at 33rd and 7th (near Herald Square--and Macy's!) around 11:00. By this time we were starving, so we decided to just strike out for Time's Square (where the HP Exhibition was stationed) and just stop to eat at some random place along the way. We ended up wandering into a place called Ben's Kosher Deli which had some amazing looking traditional jewish food in addition to your typical sandwiches and such. They also had the biggest potato pancakes I have ever seen.

After lunch, we joined the tourist throng in Times Square to kill time (and on the way walked past Parsons School of Design of Project Runway fame) until it was 1:00 and time for the exhibition.

And you thought I was a shitty driver.

I'm not going to take the time to list everything in the exhibition (for a nice little tour check out the wiki page), but let me just say it was infinitely cool and made for a remarkable experience where you could get up close and personal with the props and really appreciate the detail that went into every aspect of the movies. Unfortunately, there was no photography allowed, but here are a couple of fun bits of trivia (pulled from my observance and the audio tour):

1) everyone in the movies is smaller than you imagine. Seriously. Emma Watson is like 5 feet tall. Also, the adults are all way skinnier than I imagined. They just seem so much larger than life on screen!

2) Despite being complete CGI creations, the filmmakers made incredibly detailed mock-ups of the house elves, Buckbeak, and the Hungarian Horntail. For Buckbeak, every feather on that thing was hand-dyed and hand-glued. Pretty impressive for something that would never even be on screen. And I also can't help but think it was a big waste of money.

3) Voldemort's robes were green, not black.

4) You would not believe the detail and easter eggs contained in every textbook, newspaper, or really anything printed that appeared on screen. There were even some things that I never even saw in the movie--like study guides for the O.W.L.S, but even those were amazingly detailed. Basically anything paper = amazing.

After exiting to the gift shop (duh) and breaking my baked goods embargo for a slice of cake from the Cake Boss bakery annex at the exhibition place, we hit the subway and headed for the Natural History Museum. Turns out Chris and I are both big planetarium buffs and our college friend Alyssa just so happens to work at the museum. Although she was out of town and we didn't get to hang with her (bummer) she had set tickets aside for us at will call and we got free admission to the museum and all the special exhibits. Dinosaur bones and planetarium, woot!

Raaaawr! T-Rex doesn't give a shit, T-Rex is HUNGRY! But T-Rex hates push-ups.

After getting our fill of the secrets of the universe, we met up with another William and Mary grad, Sarah. The museum is located on the upper west side which is rife with amazing restaurants, bars, and cafes. Next time I go to NYC for the weekend, I am definitely going to try to stay in that area--if just for the food alone. We grabbed some drinks at a great divey bar called Prohibition and then walked down a newish Italian place called Celeste. We managed to avoid the dinner rush (and over an hour wait) and indulged in some homemade pasta, pizza, and yummy bread. Make a note for the care and feeding of your Maggie: carbs are always a good thing.

But then! We had to get dessert, right? So we walked around the corner (dodging the raindrops that had started to plop down) and went to Cafe Lalo which is famous for its amazing desserts. It's also famous for being in the movie You've Got Mail. Remember that scene where Meg Ryan's character is waiting in the little cafe for the guy that she met on the internet (and doesn't know is Tom Hanks) and she's got a copy of Pride and Prejudice with a rose in it? Yeah, that's the place. And it's just as romantic (and delicious) as it looks in the movie.

And they have like 25 types of cake. ROCK.

By this point we had managed to stretch out the evening and it was nearly 9:00. As our bus departed as 10, we cabbed back to 33rd and 7th Avenue and said hail and farewell to Sarah.

Since the ride up to NYC was pleasant, we never imagined that the ride back would be anything but the same. Oh, boy were we wrong. First, the seats were some of the most uncomfortable I have ever sat in. I'm not sure what made these so different from the seats on the way up, but it was literally impossible to find a comfortable position. Second, the driver kept the temperature at around 65 degrees (not exaggerating--I could see the digital thermostat). Even after I went up there and begged him to warm it up--no dice. Finally, the woman in front of us spent a lot of time chatting on her phone.

WHO TALKS ON THEIR PHONE AT MIDNIGHT? I had earplugs in and I could hear her. I finally stood up, leaned over, and asked her (politely) to keep her voice down. That kind of shut her up. Bitch.

I can't remember ever wanting to lie down in my own bed as much. But finally, after 4.5 hours of hell, we made it back to Union Station. A quick cab ride and ride in my car later, I was finally home.

A super fun day, but maybe just a bit too long. Next time I will be taking an earlier bus home. I think Harry would understand.

Chocolate Party

Two things I like most in the world: chocolate and parties. So what happens when you combine the two? AWESOMENESS.

My friend from law school, Kristine, is a hard as nails criminal law attorney down in the Newport News area by day. But by night she sells Dove Chocolate products at parties. So basically you get a bunch of your friends together, you sit around, and she gives you samples of chocolate: chocolate truffles, covered nuts, martinis (yes, chocolate martinis), mousse, fondue, etc. etc.

I can't really think of a better idea for a party. It's funny though, by the end I experienced something I never thought could happen. I was chocolated out. But when you are eating such rich stuff, a little can go a long way.

I know, I know, you want me to stop babbling and get to the good stuff. Pictures!

Those chocolate martinis might have been my favorite thing. YUM.

Here is the party and fondue aftermath. It was kind of like a pack of wild dogs got to it...but that's what happens when you put a bunch of chocolate fondue in front of some ladies on a Sunday morning. CHOCOLATE RIOT.

Rednecks Love Ke$ha!

....except they actually don't. As I discovered, much to my chagrin, while indulging in my favorite sport (karaoke) at the Macado's in Radford, Virginia last weekend.

Ok, so here's the story. My friend Carl was (until recently) a DJ in the Radford area and also an employee at the Radford college bookstore. We first met about 7 years ago (holy shit it's been that long?) when we both worked at the William and Mary bookstore when I was law school. Since then I have moved to DC and he moved to Radford. Unfortunately it had been a long time since we saw each other, but when I went down to Blacksburg to visit Andi and Jeff we were able to meet up. And it wasn't a moment too soon, because Carl got a sweetass job at a college bookstore in a small town in West Virginia and was leaving literally the next day.

Of course I had to put in an appearance at his Saturday night karaoke. Especially since Carl credits with me with introducing him to karaoke during our Williamsburg days, it seemed to make sense for me to be there for his last Radford karaoke night. But! This was my first experience with karaoke in a real redneck bar. Sure, I had been to Rock It Grill in Alexandria a lot, but come on, this is northern Virginia. Radford is the real thing. I was not surprised by the amount of country music (duh) but I was a bit taken aback by the prevalence of angry 90s grunge. Who knew people in Radford were so angsty. I mean, if I loved there I would be probably go crazy and start throwing chairs, but I figured all those folks were used to it. Maybe the grunge rock was a way for them to express their rage in a healthy manner.

This one guy, he would sit at a table by himself with headphones in his ears. At first I thought he just didn't want to hear anyone else sing, but Carl explained that he was actually listening to the song he was planning to sing to make sure he got everything right. Seriously? This is karaoke at Macado's, not American Idol. Chill, dude.

Carl and I brought the house down with some duets (Summer Nights and Fat Bottomed Girls), and I kicked things off with a rendition of Alone by Heart that wasn't too shabby, but yeah. Ke$ha. Carl requested that I do Your Love Is My Drug, so I got up there and to break the ice I made the Glee joke. You know, "this one is by Ke dollar sign ha." I swear, you could hear crickets chirping. So then I started the song, and yeeeeeeeeeeah. Let's just say this was not the crowd for Ke$ha. I'm not sure if I was just sucking at the song or they had never heard it or what. But it was not good. Probably one of my #1 most awkward karaoke moments EVER. And that's saying a lot. I mean, I once did I Touch Myself.

So the moral of the story is: when you go to a redneck bar, go for the classics rather than the latest pop hit. And apparently you can't go wrong if you channel your inner angry white suburban white boy.

All was well.

Last night, I attended the midnight showing of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 2. This blog post is about the experience of watching the movie and what it meant to me. If you aren't a fan of Harry Potter, 1) why are we friends and 2) this is clearly not the blog for you. Just stop reading, go in the corner, and look at your life, look at your choices. Seriously. Communist.

I know objectively it might seem kind of silly. After all, it was just a movie, Harry Potter is just some books...but honestly, if that's the stance you take than I kind of feel sad for you. Because life is a whole lot more fun when you fully embrace the things you care about and take joy in the community they bring. I was at that movie last night with 10 great friends and while we were all looking forward to different things and had different expectations, it was the whole experience that made it something I will never forget.

Last night was special, and not just because it was a great movie and a fun time. Harry Potter has been part of my life now for about 10 years. I received the first three books for Christmas in 1999 when I was in my sophomore year of college. I remember hearing stirrings about the series before then, and the son of my choral director dressed up as Harry for Halloween (complete with a golden snitch tied to a stick that he could swing around and catch), but I didn't really know anything about it. As usual, it was my Stepmom who gifted me the books (she also got me hooked on the Wheel of Time series--again, as a Christmas present) and when I sat down to read them over the holiday break....that was it. I was a goner.

When the Goblet of Fire came out in the summer of 2000, I inhaled and it then had to settle in for the long wait for Order of the Phoenix. By that time in 2003, I was working at the William and Mary Bookstore and actually worked the midnight release party. I remember walking the store, seeing all the kids, students, and grownups in costume, listening to readings of the previous books and just feeling privileged to be a part of something that was fun, had real depth and resonance, and best of all: encouraged kids to read. As soon as we started handing out the books at midnight, kids all over the store plunked themselves down on the floor and started reading. As someone who spent most of my childhood summer split between the library and the pool (where I would read the books from the library) it was one of the most thrilling things I have ever seen.

Half-Blood Prince came out in July 2007, when I was studying for the Virginia State Bar examination. I had pre-ordered it from Amazon.com and spent the morning waiting for Felicia, our mail carrier. As soon as I saw her walking from the house next door, I ran out the door to meet her. That entire summer I took one day off from studying--the day I got my hands on that book. For Deathly Hallows, it was more of a party. A group of friends and I drove down to Richmond where a friend owned a bookstore and was having a midnight release party. We snagged our books, and I think I made it to 4:00 that morning before I had to get some sleep. The next day, I read the book in my condo--lying in bed, sitting in a chair, lying on the couch...just picture a montage of me reading in various places.

My point is that despite my life taking me from college, to law school, to the bar exam, to an actual job and my own home, there has always been Harry. And of course, there has always been the movies. It became a tradition in my family to go to the Harry Potter movies and since the Rileys all have red hair we definitely got some "it's the Weasleys!" comments. Half-Blood Prince was my first midnight show, and the mixture of excitement, exhaustion, and adrenaline was kind of addicting. Attending a midnight show of Deathly Hallows: Part 2 wasn't just a sure thing, it was a damn requirement.

Because in a lot of ways, it's an end. Sure we have Pottermore from JKR, and maybe some supplementary stuff coming in the next few years, but the Deathly Hallows: Part 2 movie represented the last of the things to look forward to, the last thing to speculate, argue, and dream about. No more countdowns to something new and no more attending midnight show. It definitely doesn't mean Harry Potter as a fandom is over--I fully intend to keep having those Harry Potter themed parties and discussing the books and movies with my friends. Harry will live on in conventions, fanfic, and fan art. There's really no limit to the creativity that people are capable of once you give them a little push...and JKR has done that and more.

So last night was fun, unforgettable, but also a little sad. After all, it was an end. I always try to keep my expectations low when going to a movie like this--as a huge fan of the source material, it sometimes feels that you are setting yourself up for disappointment. I was so nervous through the entire movie that my legs would occasionally shake and I had to let out deep calming breaths. I think the reason I was so tense was first, that it was great movie that made the stakes feel real, but also that I wanted to love it so much, I wanted everything I loved from the book to be there, and I was scared (yes, actually scared) that the filmmakers would, at least from my perspective, "mess it up."

I won't give any spoilers here...but let me just say that there was not one instance where I was disappointed. Everything I wanted was there. All the moments, all the words, everything. This movie used the most of JKR's actual text than any other, and it made a huge difference. It was just...perfect. I can't say if I will feel that way in a few years, after I have seen it endless times and analyzed it from every corner. But right here, right now, I can say that it was one of the best movie-going experiences I have ever had. But not just because it was a great film: because it meant something to me. I felt that the movie makers really respected the material and the fans. That they loved it as much as we did, and that it meant as much to their lives as it has to mine.

So in the end...all was well.

The Yard Sale Whisperer

I love running yard sales. Why? Because it allows me to indulge in three of my favorite things:

1) planning/organization

2) getting rid of crap

3) capitalism

So when my Aunt embarked on an epic clean out of her house (that contained, let's be honest, about 70 years of accumulated stuff from her and my Grandmother) I immediately suggested a yard sale. That was back in March. We set the date for the first Saturday in June so my Aunt Kim would have a goal for going through the stuff, and I immediately began designing the perfect yard sale sign in my head. It had to be on bright posterboard of course, so people could easily identify it, and it needed to contains the words "big" and "yard sale" to bring in the crowds. yes, I design posters 3 months in advance, and no, I don't care what you think about it. From there the hard work belonged to Kim who had to wade and sort through the flotsam and jetsam of decades.

I think she must have put on her superhero pants because by the time Saturday, June 4th rolled around, there was a whole garage full of stuff waiting to be sold. Furniture, cookbooks, appliances, tupperware, DVDs and VHS, linens, pots and pans, baskets, and table after table of knick knacks. Basically anything you can imagine we had it--it was like Portobello Road in that yard.

Luckily, Kristin, Selvi, and Chris had awesomely volunteered to help us lug things out to yard (and into people's cars) and from about 7:30 to 11:30 we had a steady stream of people buying things big and small.

Now if you are thinking of putting on a yard sale here are some things you should know:

1) Never underestimate the cheapness of people. Seriously. A never used bread machine is listed for $1 and you are really going to haggle with me to get to $0.50? REALLY? And 15 pairs of shoes, with name brands like Cole Haan and Ann Klein, and you think you are going to get all that for $10? No way, sister.

2) The things you think are going to sell right off the bat are going to stick around forever and the cheapest crap will go fast. I think the problem here is that there is a disconnect between the type of people who have yard sales and the type of people who shop at yard sales. I have a yard sale because I am a victim of our consumerist society and am lucky enough to have a good-paying job and disposable income. Which means I also have a lot of crap. Other people come to a yard sale because they need to get things for cheap. This type of person doesn't really have need things like a bread machine (which literally sold at the last second of the sale...for $0.50. Dammit!), but you better believe they will get in a bidding war with someone else for some 20 year old used tupperware with no lid. Because that shit is actually useful.

3) Have someone at your sale that speaks Spanish. I'm not making any kind of comment on the socio-economic demographics of the Alexandria area, but I've planned approximately 5 yard sales in the last 3 years and at every single one the majority of shoppers are native Spanish speakers. And you as a seller are a severe disadvantage for haggling when you don't speak the language of the person you are bargaining with.

4) You will quickly learn to spot the hoarders. Again, not being mean or anything, but when an older single white lady shows up at your yardsale and carts away 5 boxes of cooking magazines, you kind of get the feeling those boxes are going right into her living room where they will sit for the next 10 years. And be peed on by her 20 cats.

All in all, the yard sale was a complete success, we got rid of about 80% of the stuff (the rest got donated to the church), and Aunt Kim made a nice chunk of change. We lucked out and had GORGEOUS weather, and it was great fun to sit around and talk with my friends, Mom (who stopped by to help with the money collection) and Aunt. We also got to meet a bunch of the neighbors, because nothing brings people crawling out of the woodwork like a good yard sale. Maybe we'll do it again in the Fall, goodness knows there is still a lot of stuff in that house...sign up to volunteer now!

Max and Me

Spoiler alert: this is not one of those stories where someone spends time with an adorable dog and learns lessons about life and love just in time for some horrible accident to occur and the dog to die. I DO NOT watch, read, or write stories about that kind of thing. This is blog post about the week I spent dog-sitting Max the Beagle, and while there might have been lessons learned, rest assured that everyone survived the week fully intact.

My friends Scott and Lis were going to Belize with both their respective families and a whole bunch of friends. While this was good news for them, it did present a problem. What to do with their adorable beagle, Max, while they were gone? If I have the story right, Scott's Mom was the one who came up with the solution. "What about that girl Margaret who always comments about Max's pictures on Facebook?" Scott and Lis asked me if I would be willing to watch Max while they were gone, and after about .028 seconds of consideration I enthusiastically answered yes.

Perhaps you are not familiar with my love for beagles. My family had two beagles when I was younger, first Truffles who was the most mild-mannered sweetest dog ever and had to be put to sleep due to old age (18 years) and failing health when I was about 8. Our second beagle was named Pooch (original, right? But hey she came with the name from the shelter) who was with us until my college years. She also lived to the ripe old age of 18 and had to put down due to liver failure associated with Cushings disease. So basically, my family loves beagles, and Mom and I always root for the beagle in Westminster and will kind of lose our minds whenever we see one on the street. When the chance presented itself to spend an entire week with Max the beagle, I couldn't resist.

Remember those lessons I mentioned having learned earlier? You're probably wondering what they are. First, I learned that Max is basically the best dog in the whole world. So chill, so affectionate, and so happy to just to be close to you. He hardly ever barked (unless there was a big dog nearby) and he would happily cuddle with me at every opportunity. He loved going for walks and I would try to take him for at least one long walk every day and even throw in a little running.
Which would immediately tire him out. Wuss.

But the second thing I learned is that having a permanent dog in my condo is just not practical. 16 floors up in a one bedroom condo is a little hard for a dog, and everytime I needed to leave the house I felt guilty. I was able to work at home more days than usual so Max wasn't alone a lot and I stayed home more on the weekends (which was pretty awesome for me since I got to relax more), but I don't think I am normally home enough to have a full-time dog. Especially since I am typically gone for almost 12 hours at work and that doesn't count the days I go out after work.

It's a shame really because I loved having Max around and I found myself looking forward to getting home and being with him. In fact, I wondered how much having Max around was like being married. I loved having someone to hang out with every night, he hogged the bed, was a loud eater, and would get restless during Top Model. I never wanted to leave him, and I wasn't happy unless we were snuggling on the couch (he is a great snuggler).

In fact, I got to love him so much, it was hard to say goodbye. The day Scott and Lis got back I was bummed all day and when I took him for his last walk I teared up (yes, I am emotional but I don't care) and when they came and got him I had to kind of push them out the door so I didn't cry. I really didn't want that little guy to go! I was gratified that Lis said he seemed to miss me the next day, but still, I was Maxless. We've discussed visitation rights, and that shit better happen because I got attached. Maybe I can convince them to take more fabulous vacations so I can have more dog-sitting opportunities. I sense a plan forming...

After Max left people would ask me, "so you getting a dog now?" And the answer was always no. Like I said, I don't think it's practical with my living situation and my current lifestyle. I don't miss having a dog, I miss having THAT dog.

Cupcake obsession

I've been on kind of on a cupcake kick lately. I'm not sure what it is...but I have a funny feeling that I like it because it appeals to my OCD. Think about it. A cupcake is a perfect cake in miniature--it provides the golden ratio of icing to cake to flavors. All within a handy little cake. I appreciate thing that have a great balance of taste and textures.

I've said too much.

Point is, I've been making a lot of cupcakes. The first new recipe was also my most ambitious. My stepmother copied it from a cooking magazine for me and it was a great spin on a S'more Cupcake.


What made this one different was the actual cake. It was a graham cracker based cake, which I thought was really unusual. It's basically your typical white cake, but you leave out some of the flour and sub in graham crackers bits. You end up with a really moist cake infused with graham cracker-ness. Then, you cut a hole in the top of the cake, and pipe marshmallow fluff into the cupcake. Put a layer of chocolate ganache on the cake and top it with a toasted marshmallow cap (put some marshmallow fluff on a cookie sheet and then put it under the broiler) and you got yourself one awesome cupcake.

And I secreted some of them away into the freezer so I can have them for those emergency cupcake moments. You know: a break-up, death in the family, rainy weather, a day that ends in "day," those kind of times.

After the success of the S'more Cupcakes, I tried another new recipe, this time I utilized my Williams Sonoma Star Wars Cupcake kit. Oh, yeah you read that right. The kit basically consisted of cupcake wrappers and these little characters on sticks you could stick into the cupcakes, but whatever. The point is Star Wars + cupcakes = AWESOME.


I went with a very light, very moist chocolate chip cupcake recipe; the batter contained whipped egg whites so it was very fluffy. One problem, the batter was so light most of the chocolate chips sunk to the bottom of the cake during the baking. But whatever. Still yummy. Oh, and the Hershey kiss on top was just for funsies.

My final foray into cupcakes was a bit of a departure. I had a box of Thin Mint girl scout cookies, some peppermint extract, and a dream. You put those Thin Mints in a food processor, make a few tweaks to a dense chocolate cupcake recipe, add some mint flavoring to icing and you got yourself some bangin Thin Mint cupcakes. No picture for these, mostly because they didn't stick around long enough for me to even take one. Also, I think I lost my camera.

The quest for the perfect cupcake doesn't stop here, so if you know any good recipes send them my way. I can reward you with, guess what, cupcakes!

The Saga Continues

Remember all that bitching I did in the last post about a clogged drain and how much it sucked and how much it ruined my day and blah blah blah?

Oh, honey, I so did not know what I was talking about.

Because a clogged drain is nothing, NOTHING, compared to what was waiting for me a few days later. I'll start out by noting that all you have to say to a condo high-riser owner is the word "leak" and it can be enough to prompt a panic attack.

There I was on Wednesday night around 8:30. I had just gotten home from dinner at my Dad's and was going through the usual nightly ritual...packing my lunch for the next day, brushing my teeth, etc. when *knock knock* at the front door. I opened it up and standing there was one of our building's security guards who said, "I'm here about the leak." "What leak?" I responded (but I was already freaking out inside). All he responded with was some crap about someone in a lower apartment reporting a leak. The guy didn't even know where it was, so I checked around the bathroom and the kitchen, but didn't see anything. And that was the end of that.

Or so I thought.

Long story short (too late), it turns out the drain pipe behind my kitchen sink (in the wall) was leaking into the apartments two floors below me. I don't know why it would be two floors down, but whatever. Dammit I'm a doctor, not a plumber. Actually, I'm not a plumber either but whatever. The thing took 4 days to repair, involved tearing out the back of my (relatively new) kitchen cabinet, and completely ruining my day.

The good news? I didn't have to pay for anything. Not the repairs to the pipe or the damage to the other apartments. THANK THE LORD. I have been down the road (with the great New Years Eve toilet leak of '08) and it is not one I am eager to revisit.

Happily, the kitchen sink drama is over, and the next blog post will be about something much more exciting: chocolate and cupcakes!

Surprise! You are an adult.

Sometimes, you're going along being yourself, acting all happy, and all of a sudden adulthood slaps you in the face. Just in case you needed a little reminder. It's like the universe wanted to say, "you are acting far too happy and fancy free. Remember how this thing is supposed to work: life is hard, yo."

I was having a really great weekend, I helped a friend move and at the same time got to hang out with a bunch of other friends, went out for an awesome dinner (where I had some of this, which is one of the best things I have ever eaten), and then got to hang out with friends and watch a movie, some episodes of Veronica Mars, and drink Bailey's and cherry whiskey. Fun, right?

And then the next morning I was confronted with one of the grossest things I have seen: at some point during the night, the kitchen drain backed up and the entire sink was full of nasty, weird colored water and strange floating things that might have been bits of cereal but easily could have been any other non-identified icky organic matter.

If you've never had a backed-up kitchen sink you are lucky; this was my first and it's not an experience I am eager to relive. I tried everything: a home remedy made up of baking soda and vinegar, plunging the drain, and even two whole bottles of Drano. Nada. Tito suggests emptying the trap with a bucket, but first all all, I don't know where the trap is, and second, that sounds gross. I'd rather just pay the 30 bucks to have the maintenance guys come in an snake the drain or empty the whatever-it-is-trap.

As of this morning, the drain was still clogged (but the Drano must have had some effect because the sink had drained of water during the night--although an almost inch deep layer of DEAR GOD WHAT IS THAT was left behind) but I had been told a maintenance man would most likely come by today to take care of it. So fingers crossed. It would certainly be nice to do dishes and not have my sink resemble the Bog of Eternal Stench from Labyrinth.

Also, thanks for reminding me of my responsibilities, universe. Just when I thought I was on a roll and could indulge in some fun, I get a helpful little reminder that I am over 30 and a homeowner. Bright side: no kids were involved in this message from life. If there had been, I am sure the issue would have been bodily fluid rather than appliance related.

Things to do in DC: Eastern Market

I have lived in the Washington area for 31 years, but have never been to Eastern Market. I always thought that was kind of sad. I know people who live really close to Eastern Market, I remember being bummed when I read about it burning down and being happy when it was built back up, but still. I just never got my rear in gear enough to head down there on a weekend and check it out.

Enter JR from stage left.

JR is a friend I have known since my freshman year at William and Mary. We were instantly drawn together through our love of theater and the absurd. Also, he likes to read about economic theory, European philosophy, and Proust and if you ever meet someone who actually likes Proust you must remain friends with them FOREVER.

Anyway.

JR is one of my peeps who lives around Eastern Market and we had met for dinner in his neighborhood to celebrate my birthday. As we chatted about a myriad of topics including politics and astrology, somehow the subject of how I have never been to Eastern Market came up. "We should go sometime," he said. "I'll have to look at my planner...maybe sometime in March?" I responded. He then gave me a look that filled me with guilt. I mean, it's kind of sad that someone who used to be Miss. Spontaneity is reduced to having to plan something at least three weeks in advance since I'm so busy running around.

"You know what?" I told him. "Screw it. Let's go tomorrow morning." And we did.

Outside Eastern Market

I drove into DC and met up with JR at 10:30 the next morning. We then fought our way on foot through one of the most windy (but sunny!) days this winter to Eastern Market. It wasn't really what I had expected; I had always pictured a huge warehouse full of vendors along the lines of Portebello Road from the movie Bedknobs and Broomsticks. Instead, it was a smallish place where purveyors of excellent foodstuffs including meat, fresh vegetables, and homemade pastas and baked goods hock their wares to an audience of yuppies. There were a couple antique and furniture sellers at a lot across the street, but Eastern Market itself is pretty much all food all the time.

And there ain't nothing wrong with that. I got some spinach fettuccine and marinara sauce that made up my dinner during the week and it was fantastic. Also a loaf of fresh ciabatta bread. Next time, I think I will get some pork loins and maybe try a cupcake or two from the great bakery stall.

So, to conclude: Eastern Market equals fun, but not quite as quirky as I had imagined. But right when I was lapsing into some yuppie-induced despair, JR walked me around the corner and showed me one of the most awesome book stores I have ever seen--book were literally stacked floor to ceiling. FINALLY. It was like a bookstore straight out of my turn-of-the-century steampunk dreams.

Going Gaga

It's rare these days to go to a concert and really feel a connection between yourself and the artist. After all, you're surrounded by thousands of screaming people and (if you're me anyway), the performer is usually far away and little more than a speck in the distance. But every so often, you can just feel that a person is giving 100% of themselves to the audience, that their sole purpose is to put on a great show, and that they would run themselves into the ground just to make sure you get your money's worth. What's even rarer is the combination of this feeling along with the sensation of being absolutely blown away by a person's talent. Sure, a lot of people can work hard during a performance, but to do it and just be really really great is kind of the perfect storm for a concert experience.

So when people ask me, "how was the Lady Gaga concert last Thursday?" I guess I should just point to the above paragraph and say "right there. All that. Only with profanity, lots of flesh, wacky outfits, and a great self-esteem boost."

Because if there is one thing that going to Lady Gaga concert will teach you is: DO NOT UNDERESTIMATE THE GAGA.

I've had a lot of conversations with friends where I try to explain why I love her. Sure, she's got great catchy pop tunes that are fun to dance to and sing along. But if that's all it was, I don't think people would seriously refer to her as The Next Madonna or really care. I mean, Ke$ha makes catchy songs, but does anyone really think she is a cultural icon or will be around for more than a few years (except for maybe Brittany on Glee)? No.

But there is something about Gaga that I think will guarantee her a place in the pop pantheon for the long haul. She is amazingly, sickly, grossly, talented. Say what you want about her being wacky and crazy yadda yadda yadda, that bitch can SING. For 2 straight hours she sang completely live, danced, and rocked out on the piano, standing bass, keytar, and organ. Oh, and she just happens to have written all those great catchy pop songs. And you know what? She sounded even better than on recordings. And trust me, that's rare.

But whatever, you want to hear about the concert, right? There was a kind of basic plot to the proceedings, I guess. Gaga and her friends (i.e. scantily clad dancers) are trying to get to the Monster Ball, but along the way they have all these mishaps and adventures. These provide opportunities for set changes, costume changes, and of course Gaga sharing with us her philosophy...which as far as those go, is pretty awesome.

"What is the Monster Ball?" someone asks. And Gaga answers, "it is a place where you can be free." You can be as strange, as weird, as YOU as you want, and you belong. "I don't want you to leave here loving me more," she said. "I want you to leave here loving you more." And that's basically what she is all about: no matter how much of an outcast you feel, Mama Gaga loves you. And remember: she will always be weirder than you.

The show opened with Gaga silhouetted against a dark backdrop singing Dancing in the Dark. We then cut to a large city set, with a truck in the middle of the stage. During Glitter and Grease, Just Dance, Beautiful, Dirty,Rich, and The Fame, we learned that she was on the way to the Monster Ball, but oops! Her truck broke down. Cue discussion of what the Monster Ball is and why it's awesome. And why we as the audience were awesome.

Then we get a new set: this one of a subway. I guess since the truck didn't work out, Gaga and her friends decide public transport is the way to go. She goes right into Love Game (dressed in a nun's habit, natch), and makes her way through Boys, Boys, Boys, before rising off the stage with her huge keytar for a little bit of Money Honey. After that, she called a fan in the audience (seriously) to thank her for making a huge donation to her tour-sponsored charity (a halfway house for LGBT teens who have been kicked out of their homes) and invited her backstage after the show. The woman gave $20,000 and seemed excited, but her teenage daughters were seriously freaking the fuck out. As anybody would. After finishing the call, Gaga performed Telephone and the rocking out got really under way.

Dorilyn: What is she holding?
Me: A disco stick?

At this point, Gaga was in a black and sparkly bikini so I guess it seemed like a good time to settle down at the piano. Which was on fire. She performed a song from the new album called You and I which was along the veins of Speechless, meaning it was more of a singer/songwriter kind of vibe rather than glam pop. And this is where she is really impressive: for most of the song it was just her and piano and it was awesome. And in her own words, "I hate having to cut my nails to play the piano...so I don't."

She was on fire! Not literally though. But she did play the piano with her feet.

Gaga then got sucked up by a tornado (just go with it) and performed So Happy i Could Die dressed as a cracked out Glenda the Good Witch. The tornado ended up dropping her in a dark and very expensive forest, where her dancers promptly ran away and left her alone (those bitches). But they were back to help out with Monster, Teeth, and Alejandro. And to smear fake blood all over Gaga, of course. Another great quote from this set: Gaga stretches out on the stage covered in fake blood and notes, "I was bullied a lot in high school....some people thought I was strange." Finally, she went into an awesome version of Poker Face which took us right into....

Paparazzi. And a giant freaky angler fish that is set up on stage and eats Gaga. I guess the fish is what gets her to the Monster Ball? Because the next number finds us at the Ball with Gaga encased in a shiny metal ball thing (just go with it again) and bringing down the house with Bad Romance. This was clearly the song of the night, or would have been, except for the encore of Born This Way. I don't think any other song really encapsulated the theme of the night as much as Born This Way which is basically saying, let your freak flag fly. Gaga and three of her back-up singers came out and sang some verses a cappella before busting into a recreation of her recent Grammy performance minus the egg and ponytail.

All in all it was probably one of the best (if not the best) concerts I have been to and was more than just a show. It was kind of an experience. If you get the chance to go see her, DO IT. At the very least you will get the chance to say you saw Lady Gaga live, and I have a funny feeling she is going to be around for a very long while. Even my Dad admits that she's talented and for us to agree on something like is amazing in and of itself!

Oh, one last quote. Before the show, you could text a message and it would appear on large screens around the arena. Most of the texts were things like, "your little monsters love you!!1!" or "Mama Gaga you are the best!"But one text really stood out. "Where are my keys? I lost my phone" Guess all you can do is just dance.

PS: Thanks to the Gagapedia for the set list!

No wonder they call it La-La Land.

People in LA are crazy. And I have documented proof. Don't get me wrong; I love visiting Los Angeles, especially now that my brother and sister-in-law live there. And I can't complain about the 75 degree sunny clear blue sky weather in February, but seriously folks there are CRAAAAZY.

How do I know? They are trying to live in a Dr. Seuss-land.

This is a typical tree on a typical street in a typical LA suburb. And yet, it looks like it belongs in Whoville or the like. Sure, you see other plants that have a lot of Asian influence and other interesting shapes, but this? This is just ridiculous.

Also, people there like to sculpt their shrubs into shapes. In a single yard, this is a delightfully quirky expression of creativity, but when it comes a full-blown epidemic it just gets kinda creepy. This one house that I walked by was working on some huge shrub swans, and had the beginnings of a giraffe in the works. Weird.

When swans attack...

Another house (which alas, I forgot to get a picture of) had its front yard shrubs in some vaguely humanoid blobby shapes. It looked like something out of an anime...something that starts out cute but then quickly morphs into something that bites your head off.

I think this is all a function of the weather in Southern California. After all, when flowers can bloom all year round and every day is perfect (well, almost perfect), your yard becomes more than a hobby and is a full-blown status symbol. I don't think anybody there does their own gardening; everyone has a service that includes some hardcore landscaping. Bushes and trees in ridiculous shapes are the new SUV.

Coming up next: more adventures in LA including LEGOland and a vegan night out.

XOXO

Ah, Valentine's Day. The one day a year dedicated to love--when you are supposed to shower your significant other with chocolate, flowers, hearts, balloons, wine, and kisses and hugs. Oh, and don't forget the greeting cards. Well, I say screw that. Except for maybe the chocolate. And also the wine.

I am not, however, one of those bitter single people on Valentine's Day. You know what I mean--the ones who sit around kvetching about how it's just a corporate holiday meant to boost sales at Hallmark Stores and for chocolate companies and how it's all a scam and dumb. Maybe it is, I dunno. But I guess I can't really find anything wrong about setting aside a day to make sure you let the people you love how much you appreciate them. But that doesn't mean I am going to get all weepy about not having any Valentine's Day plans. Actually, I should clarify: I had a plan, but filling in for a significant other was my couch.

The point of Valentine's Day is to do something you love, right? So I came home from work, watched Supernatural and Vampire Diaries. And it was awesome. I also made sure I told my family I loved them, sent internet hugs to my friends, etc. etc., but really the best part was the pizza. And the couch.

So happy (belated) Valentine's Day, everyone! I hope you had a wonderful day and spent it doing something (or someone) you love or at least like. And just remember: any holiday that uses chocolate as its main means of celebration can't be all bad.