More Snow

Seriously, winter? You're going to do this to me a second time? Here I was, with another perfectly planned action-packed weekend, and you gotta go and shit (or snow) all over it. Today I was supposed to see Rockapella, rescheduled from the snowstorm last month, but no. I was also supposed to make it up to Silver Spring for a game night with a bunch of friends from work, but no.

I made an effort. I went out around 11 and set out for a pre-concert lunch. But I knew I was in trouble when my car couldn't even make it up the little rise in my parking lot and I had to reverse out to the other exit. Apparently, Corollas weren't meant for snow driving. Who knew? And then I realized that nothing had been plowed. Even though we had notice of the pending storm for days in advance and it had been snowing for a solid 4 hours, NO PLOWS. So my street, and even King Street, were a complete and total mess. It didn't seem to deter a lot of the people who were driving around (the fools) but after slipping and sliding for a couple miles, I called it a day. I love Rockapella, but I'm not going to risk life and limb to hear the Carmen Sandiego theme.

And so I found myself stuck at home again. It's not all bad; I got some baking done, watched a ton of television, read some books (including revisiting some of my old Baby-Sitter Club books), but when you live alone being snowed in means you are alone all day. Which also means I spend a lot of time talking to myself. I bet the neighbors think I am insane. Of course, they probably thought that already.

Tomorrow I am scheduled to go to brunch with the law school ladies, have an afternoon of girliness including nail painting, and then meetup with the D&D folks. As far as I am concerned, I am going to brunch tomorrow even if I have to walk my ass across the highway to Shirlington, because nothing stands in the way of Maggie birthday celebrating! Since I'm hitting Atlantic City all next weekend, this is the only time I'll have to celebrate with these friends, and it is happening. Plus, Carlyle has this AMAZING chocolate flourless waffle and it will be mine.

Mark my words.

Not even just a little bit country.

I'm not a country music fan. I like bluegrass, and I like the Dixie Chicks (they're more pop anyway, right?), but when it comes to twangy country rock where people sing about the man/girl/tractor that done them wrong, I'm out.

So I was a bit nervous about heading to Nick's Nightclub in Alexandria for a night full of country line dancing. Yeah, you heard me right there. Country. Line. Dancing.

Sidenote: I don't even like regular line dancing. No electric slide, no chicken dance, no Cupid shuffle. I enjoy just dancing on my own, and am convinced line dancing is for white people who can't dance and need instruction. If that's you then I hope you have a great time, but it's just not my thing. End sidenote.

Last year, I met a group of friends through Carly who call themselves, "Team Awesome" and get together for fun outings out. The most recent adventure was country line dancing. I agreed to go because a whole pack of people I know and like were going, but I wasn't too sure about the whole thing. But then! I went to Nick's Nightclub's website and lo and behold....they have karaoke! Suddenly, the evening seemed full of possibility.

We got there a bit early and got some drinks at the bar ("do you want some drinks? GOD YES.") and then settled in to a lovely corner booth. The bar offers country line dancing lessons for $5, but I decided to pass. I would rather just sit there and judge everyone else who is brave enough to try something new. From what I could see it looked like my friends did very well, but after the 45 minute lesson was over and the band started playing...none of them actually did any country line dancing. Let's just say that there were a lot of people in that bar who were clearly regulars and knew what they were doing. I'm not sure they would appreciate a bunch of bumblers out there crowding up their dance floor. And since it's a country bar, they probably all had guns under their ten gallon hats.

The good news is there was a back bar with the karaoke and another dance floor where they played some regular music (after yes, some country). We kind of scoped out a spot on the floor and had a grand ole (opry) time. My first karaoke selection for the evening was Alone by Heart , but after three hours of singing and dancing, it was time to call it at a night. I was still waiting for my second song, but the DJ was kind enough to move my last song to the top of the queue, and I sang right to my friends the touching ballad of My Life Would Suck Without You by Kelly Clarkson. Which is true. It would actually suck without them.

All in all, a good time was had. However, the DJ, while nice, was a little questionable. Observe the following exchange:

Me: Can you play "Forever" by Chris Brown next?
DJ: What song? "Forever??"
Me: Yeah, by Chris Brown.
DJ: Is that a song people will dance to if I play it?
Me: Umm.....yeah. (unspoken "duh")
DJ: If I have it, I'll play it.

"If I have it?" And I don't think she even knew who Chris Brown is. You know you're in a country music bar when...

Nintendo goes BOOM.

Guess what I did last Friday night?


That's right, bitches! I played some classic NES (that's Nintendo Entertainment System for all you not true nerds out there) and rocked it out. Well, rocked it out until Super Mario Brothers 3, World Three, Level Two when me and my friend Jason repeatedly died about 20 times. For all of you SMB3 fans out there, that's the water world and the level with Big Bertha. She's the giant fish that jumps up and eats your ass. While it's kind of pathetic to only make it that far, in my defense, it's been about 15 years since I played. And Big Bertha was always hard.

Finally I got so fed up with the repetitive dying that I kind of jerked the controller too hard. And that kind of caused the entire game system to fall off the tv stand and onto the floor. That might have caused the whole machine to go kaplooey and stop working. Jason claims that I "broke the Ninendo," but I don't really think that's possible. I mean, imagine the years and teenagers that thing has survived. I can't believe that within 30 minutes of being in my possession it would explode. Right?

Right?

Oh, god, I hope I didn't break it. I still have so much Mario Brothers and Duck Hunt to play!

Burn, baby, burn!

A wise woman once said, "Fire bad. Tree pretty."

Last Friday just the opposite was true. I headed out to a friend of a friend's house in Arlington for a bonfire featuring last year's Christmas trees.

Now I don't know what you may have heard, but yes, I do enjoy a good fire, and yes, I do take great delight in building up, stoking, and maintaining such fires, but that is not call for referring to someone as a pyromaniac. People these days throw around terms like that with suck reckless abandon, when they really have no idea what such things even mean. Just because a person really loves fire doesn't make them a pyromaniac. And that's all I'll say about that.

Seriously though folks, I do like a good fire. And this fellow Todd had a very nice set-up in his backyard with a large firepit, many good hunks of wood, and several Christmas trees. And trust me when I say that those suckers went up like the dried out husks that they were. We would throw on one of those puppies and then immediately retreat because the fire would surge upwards and anyone standing within 10 feet could end up sans eyebrows.

While the fire was wicked awesome, having the fire department show up wasn't. Oh, didn't I mention? Yeah, the fire department showed up. Apparently some concerned citizen called them, not to make a formal complaint, but just to make sure that they were "aware" of the backyard bonfire. Narks. Anyhoodle, the firemen showed up, stood around, noticed that we looked like a group of responsible adults (good thing they didn't know about the 5 gin and tonics I had downed earlier) and hit the road. But not before ordering us not to burn anymore Christmas trees. Which actually makes them a bunch of Debbie downers.

but there was still a good fire going, lots of new people to meet and chat with, and gin and tonics aplenty. All in all, a successful night!

Thoughts of Life and Loss

Here's the thing about life. Nothing is ever easy. If you want something, life is going to make you fight for it. You're going to have to swear, scream, spit, and scratch all the way to what you want. And sometimes, you never even get it. So why bother fighting? Because that's the whole point. The fight is what makes us who we are. It's what develops strength, character, creativity, ingenuity, all those things that make us wonderfully human. Of course, sometimes the fight is what makes us all grotesquely rotten people, but that's also the point. In life there are winners and losers. And being a winner doesn't mean you necessarily get what you were fighting for, but it means you learn the lesson and move on. The losers never learn.

Is any of this remotely comforting when you don't get that thing you want? Hell, no. If someone you love is suffering crushing disappointment and you try to reassure them with thoughts of, "but this ordeal will make you a better person, so chin up!" you'll probably get punched in the face. And you would deserve it. But hopefully someday your loved one will look back on that time of heartache, pain, and loss and know that they emerged better and stronger for having endured it.

Someday can seem awfully far away when you or the people you love are hurting. But sometimes someday is all we have to cling to. Until then, you just keep fighting.

Three Christmases

Ah, the plight of the divorced child. The holidays mean hustle and bustle for everyone, but if you come from a so-called "broken family," it tends to be even crazier. In fact, I had a total of three Christmases this year, which while awesome, is also a heck of a lot of work.

Christmas #1 was actually on Christmas Eve. This evening is traditionally spent with my Dad, Grandmother, et al. opening gifts. However, as my brother and his wife would not be in town until actual Christmas Day, we decided to put off until the day after Christmas our gift opening. But since my stepsister and her husband were unavailable the day after Christmas, we opened gifts with Scott and Marin on Christmas Eve over at Grandma's.

Confused yet?

Christmas #2 was Christmas Day. This day is always spent with my mother and brother, and this year Bill and Amanda got into town towards the late afternoon. So Mom and I hung out, watched White Christmas and got my house ready to host Christmas during the day. And tried to stay away from all the cookies I had made, but dear God, it was hard. Activate will-power now!

Bill and Amanda ended up arriving safe and sound along with their dog, Sir Issac Newton, and we spent the evening visiting, opening presents, and cooking dinner. On the menu was home-made pizza with ingredients from Trader Joe's (what? We're Jewish and Amanda was a vegetarian so I was not making a huge Christmas ham or roast or anything). It was my first time hosting Christmas, or really any major holiday occasion, and I think overall it went off without a hitch. As they say, proper planning prevents poor performance, and I had been busting my butt for over a month to make sure everything was done way in advance.

Christmas #3 was back to Grandma's for our traditional Christmas Eve activities that were this time held on the day after Christmas. We had a full house with my Uncle, Aunt, and cousin who were down from New Jersey, plus our usual crew. I like to say that the Riley family Christmas is something of an orgy of consumption, since we always have so much food and so many presents that it's kind of ridiculous. But with 10 people, you need a lot, right? I guess we are just good old-fashioned Americans who believe that more is more. Especially when it comes to hugging. And laughing.

After Christmas I managed to avoid the post-holiday depression by taking the week off from work (which was AWESOME) and trying to cram in as much quality time with my brother and other family as possible. Of course, all good things must end, and early New Years day he and Amanda packed up the car and the dog and headed back to Michigan, or as I like to call it, mitten-shaped purgatory.

So here we are: a new year and the beginning of a new decade. I turn 30 in less than a month (!!!) but don't plan on letting it get me down. As long as I have the emotional maturity of an 18 year old, I'll never really age, right?

In your face, snow!

I woke up this morning to a sunny sky and melting snow. And while I didn't have anywhere to go, I figured I should make an effort to start digging my car out. I had parked close to the entrance of the building and hoped that the plow wouldn't have created too big a snow dam.

Boy, was I naive.

Oh, shit.

All I could do when I saw my car was just laugh and laugh. People walking by joined in, because I guess it's not every day you see some chick with a shovel laughing her fool head off. But I would like to add that nobody offered to help me. In fact, people only stopped to talk because they wanted to borrow my shovel. To which I say, no way. They should have thought ahead and bought their own. I mean, look. If you live in a high-rise with a parking lot that gets plowed, a shovel is a necessary item. I bought mine three years ago and have kept it in my trunk since then. And it's not like I was being mean, I was actually using my shovel. If someone asked me when I had finished I would have let them borrow it. Maybe.

I figured I would shovel a while, take a break, and maybe get back to it in the afternoon. But it actually went faster than I expected, and when you get in the groove, you just want to get it over with. My strategy was to clear the back first so it was easier to carry the shovels of snow to the large pile made by the plow (I couldn't just pitch it to the side since there were cars on either side of me). Then I cleared a little path to one of the back doors, squeezed inside, and started the car with the heat going full blast. I figured the car could do me a favor and maybe melt some of the snow around it (and on top) while I was shoveling.

All in all the plan worked, and one hour and a half of shoveling gave me a completely snow-free car. And you can bet I am not moving that sucker until I absolutely need to, because as soon as I leave someone else is going to take that spot. And I'll be damned if I give it up that easy!

Maggie in the Desert

Today DC is in the grips of a record-breaking snow-storm. At last count I think we were up to 18 inches (and still going strong), so what better way to spend my snow day than blogging about being in the desert?

The irony is not lost on me.

I spent the first week of December in Phoenix, Arizona. It was my first time in Arizona and only my second time in the desert (the first being my trip to Las Vegas this past May). Before leaving I had all these grandiose plans for sight-seeing, hiking, and visiting some local museums. Unfortunately, the sheer number of hearings the judges I traveled with had to conduct at the regional office kept us busy until after 5 almost every night. Which meant all we really had time to do was go out to dinner and then come back to the hotel and go back to bed.

In fact, the only real cool things I got to do were 1) visit a Sees candy store one evening for a bit of Christmas shopping and 2) go to the Desert Botanical Garden on Thursday afternoon when the judges were kind and let me and the other attorney skip out early.

But if you're going to do one thing in the Phoenix area, this is the one you want to shoot for. You basically get the whole desert experience in one go (minus the horrible venomous creatures). And coming from the East Coast, where the flora is basically as different as you can get, it was fascinating to see how many different types of cacti there are. Literally thousands.

Check out some pics:




I especially like this last picture. It makes the cacti look like a nefarious wriggling mass trying to bring down the tree. Evil cacti!

I flew back to DC on Friday afternoon since I had to get ready for my kitchen-warming party happening the next day. When I left Phoenix it was 70 degrees, and within 12 hours of coming back it was snowing. Weirdness.

Speaking of snow, I'll probably be blogging several times in the next few days since I am stuck at home due to the snow. Who knows how long it will take to dig out my car from this blizzard? It could be awhile before I can go anywhere, but hopefully these blog posts won't end up chronicling my gradual descent into cabin fever-induced madness. But still, that should make for good reading, right??

Red rum....red rum.....

Curbside Cupcakes!

Usually things in life don't turn out the way you want or expect. But sometimes, just sometimes, the universe aligns in such a way as to grant you the one thing you want right when you want it. Perhaps it was some kind of birthday, Christmas, or Hanukkah miracle, but for one brief shining moment this afternoon me and a group of friends from work were in the exact right place and the exact right time. For what, you ask?

Curbside Cupcakes!

First, some background. This past Saturday was the lovely Caroline's birthday. Since she was down in North Carolina celebrating with her family, a group of us at work took her to lunch today at Cafe Asia. While waiting for our food to arrive, she mentioned a new phenomenon in DC. That is, Curbside Cupcakes. Basically there is a pink van that drives around downtown selling delicious cupcakes. Think of it is the Good Humor truck for yuppies.

We all agreed that this was a swell idea and told Caroline that is she ever noticed a Twitter update signaling that the van was in our vicinity to let us know immediately.

45 minutes later we headed back to the office and arrived at the intersection across from our building. When, lo, what did eagle-eyes Stephanie spot? A pink van parked across the street. "Is that...the Curbside Cupcakes van?" she asked hesitatingly. The rest of us scoped it out and as one cried, "it is!" and immediately took off across the intersection.

Now when I say took off, I literally mean it. There was much running and arm waving as we made for the opposite corner. When we reached the opposite side we slowed and walked towards the van, but then! It began pulling away from the curb! Stephanie again took off, waving her arms emphatically, and the rest of began running and screaming "no, stop!"

Luckily, the driver saw us (since we would have been kind of hard to miss) and pulled back. And sold us wonderful cupcakes. These suckers weren't cheap ($3 a pop), but you know what? TOTALLY WORTH IT. What are the chances that the very cupcake van we had just been discussing would have been parked right across from our building at that very moment?? We were meant to have those cupcakes, and you know what? They were damn good.

So happy birthday, Caroline! Clearly the fates are with you today. Anybody want to go get some lottery tickets after work?

Curbside Cupcakes success! And they all lived happily ever after.

He's gotta be strong, and he's gotta be fast, and he's gotta be fresh from the fight.

Yesterday, my Great Uncle Bill was presented with the French Legion of Honor (and made a "chevalier" or knight) by the French Ambassador to the United States. The ceremony took place at the D-Day memorial in Bedford County, Virginia, and while I couldn't be there, my Mom, Uncle and cousins were there representing the family.

Uncle Bill lives down in Roanoke, and we would visit him and my Great Aunt Nita in the summers and occasionally at Christmas. As a kid I had only the most basic knowledge of Bill's life...I mean, when you're 10 chances are you're not too interested in what your Great Uncle did with his life before you met him. But boy, did I miss out on a lot of good stories. Because as time has gone by I've learned more about Bill's time in the military during WWII and wowza. People tend to throw around the world hero these days, but he's the real deal.

Bill Overstreet flew P-51s out of England as part of the 357th Fighter Group (the Yoxford Boys), and participated in more than 100 missions. He flew over France and Germany, and was shot down three times and taken prisoner by the Germans at one point (although he escaped). Right there, you can't deny he's pretty badass.

But the best Uncle Bill story takes place over the skies of Paris, when he was involved in a dogfight with a German Messerschmidt. The German tried to shake him by flying under the Eiffel Tower. And it totally didn't work, because Bill followed him right through the arches and blew his butt out of the sky.

Here's an article about the ceremony (and recounting some of Bill's adventures), and the local news also ran a great piece about it that I tried several time to embed, but can't get to work. So check it out here!

And then take a minute to think about the risks and scarifies of all our nation's veterans and members of the armed services. Then go hug a veteran. But preferably someone you know, otherwise that could get kind of awkward.

Baby, It's Cold Outside

Before I get into blogging about my recent work trip to Phoenix (exhausting) and my new kitchen-warming party this past Saturday (also exhausting but in a super fun way), I thought I would share some appropriately themed winter pictures.

Behold this year's Christmas tree:

Don't even bother trying to hide behind the tree, gnome. I can totally see you.

Oh, and did I mention? We got snow, bitches! SNOW!

This picture looks like a beer commercial. I expect some Clydesdales to gallop through or something.

This seems a bit early for our first snowfall in DC, no? Too bad I spent the day stressing about what it would mean for my party that night, but I still found the time to admire it a bit. Snow = pretty! Unfortunately, it also means people drive like assholes. But that's life....everything has a price.

Coming up soon...Maggie's thoughts on cacti (and Phoenix).

Holiday Cookies

I've spent a lot of time these past few weeks pondering what cookies to make for the holidays this year. Now some of you (i.e. boys) are probably wondering why the heck I would put so much time into this, but CLEARLY you have never been in charge of your family's holiday baking before.

Choosing the wrong selection of cookies can spell disaster; you must have the perfect mix of chocolate, fruit, sugar, crunch, chewy, oaty, peanut butter, etc. etc. or everything gets thrown off. You need to please everyone at the gathering, and aesthetics are of course a consideration as well. The cookies should differ visually to such an extent that when arranged on a plate you have a pleasing and interesting array of cookie goodness.

Another consideration is preparation time and storage. I'm a busy girl, so I need to plan out my cookie-making schedule accordingly, which means starting early. I've already got several dozen stashed in the freezer and from now until Christmas, each weekend will probably include some cookie making. Speaking of freezing, I also need to make cookies that freeze well, since they will need to keep for a month or more before getting gobbled.

You had no idea it was so complicated, did you?

But I have finally decided on this year's cookies, and am ready to make the big reveal here on the blog. Why should you care? Well, duh. If you see me sometime in the next month, chances are you'll get a chance to enjoy the fruit of my labors by eating the chosen cookies. So strap in, and get ready for....

COOKIE MANIA 2010

Classics: peanut blossoms, sugar cookies (iced and decorated cut-outs, of course), and chewy molasses cookies.

Fruit themed: thumbprint cookies (with raspberry and strawberry jelly filling), lemon cornmeal cookies

Exotic: black-bottomed coconut bars, oatmeal and pecan chocolate chip, and black forest cookies (my personal fav...chocolate cookies with chocolate chunks and cherries)

So turn on the Christmas carols, break out the menorah, or do whatever else you need to get into the holiday spirit, and prepare for some yummy cookie time!

What not to do at Karaoke (or the three embarrassing things Maggie did on Friday night)

Ah, karaoke. I admit my love for it does not stem from enjoying hearing other people sing, but it's because for a few short minutes I can live out my dream of being a rock star. With an added bonus that I don't have to worry about remembering the words.

This past Friday I hit my usual karaoke spot in Alexandria, Rock It Grill in Old Town. I go every few months or so, whenever I can scrounge up a group of peeps. Usually things proceed without incident....we hang out, drink, dance, sing some songs, and have a good time. But for some reason, the Fates were conspiring against me on Friday.

My song went well; I went with Heart's Alone, recently spotlighted on Glee and requested by my friend Carly whose birthday we were celebrating a bit early. No problems there, everyone seemed to really enjoy it and I got some nice compliments from the DJ.

But then, humiliation #1. When I tried to join some friends on stage for the next song, I was tapped on the shoulder by the DJ and told to get off the stage. Apparently, you are not permitted to sing so soon after a previous song. So I had to tuck my tail between my legs and slink off.

Then, humiliation #2. During the first dance break, I was doing my thing and in typical Maggie fashion, toppled over. It wouldn't have been so bad except I whacked my face on the speaker right next to me and have had a sore cheek for 3 days. There's a barely noticeable bruise, but I count myself lucky I didn't end up with a full shiner. Also, one of the bouncers saw my glorious descent and ran over to ask if I was ok. Move along, nothing to see here.

And finally, humiliation #3....I walked up on stage by the DJ to ask him if he had a certain song, and was politely but firmly escorted off right away by some more bouncers. Apparently, you have to go around the stage and come at the DJ from behind if you need to ask something. I guess I looked sketchy and they feared I might attack him or something.

So, just to recap, I was kicked off stage twice and managed to bust my face. But, you know what? It was totally worth it. I didn't even mind that I had to majorly Febreeze my coat and dress due to the bar smoke. Again, WORTH IT.

Blacksburg Bound

This past weekend, I braved the trucks on route I-81 and headed to southern Virginia to commune with my fellow geeks, Andi and Jeff.

Andi and Jeff are a married couple who live in Blacksburg, Virginia. Andi and I met back in college when we both studied abroad in Scotland. We bonded over our love for bridge, fantasy novels, Graham Norton, and general awesomeness. She and Jeff got married during grad school and Jeff was added to the geek family. Although we haven't been able to get him on-board with our bridge club, but just give me time...

Anyhoodle, they have only lived in their current place a few months, and since I promised I would come down and visit, I hit the road Friday after work. I always forget how long a drive it is from NoVa to Blacksburg (it took over 5 hours with traffic!), but I actually really like going down there. The mountains, the college town vibe, the simple country folk...although to be fair, Blacksburg is more suburb than hickville, but still.

I spent a lot of fun summers in southwestern Virginia; my great uncle had a cabin outside Warm Springs and Goshen, and we would spend a week down there every year. So heading back to that area of the state always makes me giddy. Like, little girl on vacation giddy.

And Andi and Jeff were happy to oblige me; there were farmer's markets to visit, pies to bake, southern Virginia chain restaurants to visit (Macado's!), bookstores to shop at, and episodes of Battlestar Galactica to watch. While that last one might seem out of place, we had to let our geek flag fly a little, right?

After having such a great time, I think I need to spend some more time down in that area. There's only one problem: I don't look good in orange. So you'll never make a Hokie out of me!

Worst Week Ever

Ever have one of those periods in your life when everything seems to go wrong? That was me this week. Car troubles, work troubles, boy troubles, customer service troubles, you name it, I had it. I did manage to escape with my health (SO FAR) so maybe I shouldn't complain too loudly. But when you almost break down sobbing in a Home Depot, it's a good sign things are not going well.

And you know what? What is the point of a blog if not to bitch about the things that seem to constantly go wrong in your life? So here, I am, bitching about it.

....

Ok, so now I feel better. Other things that made me feel slightly better: downloading Volume 1 of the Glee soundtrack and getting an "outstanding" rating on a case for my new judge. But those were the few bright spots.

And I'm not going to give you a rundown of all the crap that went down this week, because 1) it's not all that interesting, 2) it would take way too long to type and I am inherently lazy, and 3) I really don't want to relive it. However, this probably means when I come back to my blog and read it in three years, I will have no idea what the hell I was so pissed about. But I'm ok with that.

So, here's to a better week ahead! I'm heading down to Blacksburg to visit Andi Bear and Jeff (and perhaps do some leaf peeping) this afternoon and can't wait to leave this entire week behind me. Sayonara!

Currently listening to: Keep Holding On by the Glee cast

Backsplash in da house!

You might remember the great backsplash debate of 2009. Basically, I was having trouble deciding what kind of backsplash I wanted for the new kitchen. I went back and forth between types of tiles, but finally decided on a glass mosaic that I hoped would help tie in the now kind of random green floor tile.

Well, yesterday was the big day and the tiles went up! My handyman came over along with a helper in the morning and spent the day cutting and mounting sheet after sheet of mosaics. Meanwhile I spent the day holed up in my bedroom reading Angel comics. What? I was management!

Anyhoodle, I think the tiles look fabulous and I hope you all agree. Final step in the kitchen makeover: picking a paint color and slapping it on the walls!




The grout goes in on Monday, and more pictures will follow!

Trail of Terror

It was a dark and stormy night.

Seriously. It really was.

So, it was a dark and stormy night last Friday when Carly, Tito, and I decided to brave the Trail of Terror at Signal Park in Manassas. Now, Manassas is scary on its own, but when you factor in darkened woods and things that go bump in the night, you end up with a pretty scary experience.

My friend Rachel was working behind the scenes at this Trail of Terror thing, and Carly was scheduled to actually appear as a victim of a cannibal in the production on Saturday night, so we decided to give it a go. It's your standard local haunted trail; we piled onto bales of hay stacked on wagons being pulled by tractors (yes, tractors) and were driven through an area of Signal Park where various volunteers in various costumes did their best to scare the pants off us.

While not the OMG SCARIEST EVER, the overall effect was pretty creepy. But I'm not a hard sell, if you have things jumping out at me from the dark, chances are you'll get a shriek or two out of me. And no, that's not a euphemism.

There were giant spiders, grave diggers, zombies (creepy), cloaked mysterious figures (creepier), and a group of cannibals chopping apart a body while screaming, "I want more!" (creepiest). They grabbed a poor tween off our wagon and proceeded to ravage her as she wailed loudly. The girl was obviously in on it, but still. That shit was whack. I was a little pissed when the cannibal grabbed my purse and almost made off with it (I don't care if you are a cannibal or not, you try to steal my purse and I will eff you up) but I decided to let it go. Spirit of the season and all!

The Manassas Trail of Terror is fast becoming a Halloween tradition, as this was my second go-round. And I gotta say, it's one of those fun, kinda scary, kinda cheesy little things that make Halloween so fun. Maybe next year I can find the time for the Trail of Terror and a corn maze and make it a double feature. But til then, only four more days until Halloween and guilt-free candy gorging!

Thank god there were no scary clowns. Because Homey don't play that.

Baking is POWER

I had a shitty week. I made some really dumb mistakes at work I looked like a fool. It was also so rainy and dreary and freaking cold that it it did not improve my mood. And finally, it was the first week where my new judge was in the office and the two times I went to her for questions, she was kind of hostile and basically made me feel like a fool for asking.

So, yeah, shitty week.

When I got home Tuesday, I was suddenly struck with an overwhelming urge to bake. At first I thought it was maybe just the weather; the cooling down and dreary atmosphere naturally have me in the mind of the holidays which naturally leads to thoughts of baked goods.

But then more I thought about it, I came to the conclusion that cooking and baking was more of a way to assert some the control I felt like I had been missing. With things going poorly at work, I needed some way to be in charge, and working in the kitchen was the solution!

You see, when I'm cooking and baking, I put everything together, and as long as I follow the recipe things work out alright. It's just me and the measuring cups. That's not to say that things can't go horribly wrong, but for the most part it's like painting by numbers, you know? I make it, and it comes out good.

So by my ingredients combined, we have Captain Cookies! Or Captain Muffins! Or Captain Lemon Herb Chicken! And it's Maggie in charge once more. Until next week when hopefully I get my act together somewhere outside the kitchen.

Anybody for some garlic herb-stuffed pork loin?

Say it, don't spray it.

I love my Gilad workout DVD. He's this great German guy who runs a gym out in Hawaii and apparently used to have a morning workout television show. Anyway, he's nice and says encouraging things like, "let me see those thighs flying in the air!" and "this is how we get you lean, and mean, but in a good way!"

But, here's my question. Is it normal to drool all over yourself while doing the aerobics portion of the workout? Because it happened to me and I'm not so sure that it is.

Maybe I should try panting with my mouth shut some time. That might help to decrease the waterworks.

Well, that was easy.

I was all ready to post on the blog about how I couldn't decide what kind of backsplash to get for my kitchen. I've been going back and forth on what I wanted: do I go with the glass mosaic that's shiny and pretty, or the greenish marble tiles (square or rectangle?), or the combination glass and natural stone mosaic?

I've had them all laid out in the kitchen, looking at them from all angles and waffling. Which is kind of a new experience for me; if I'm anything it's decisive. So being stuck in this backsplash limbo for the past weeks has been exasperating.

But then a funny thing happened on the way to the blog post. I held up one of the options, the glass mosaic sparkly one, and it was just so clear. THAT was the one I wanted. It wasn't like I had a big epiphany; there was no giant light bulb hanging above my head, no flash of divine inspiration. Just a sense of, "of course this is the one I want. What was taking me so long?"

It also happens to be the cheapest tile and the one that will be easiest for my handyman to install. So bonus points to me for picking the pretties and most sensible option. I'm hoping to get it installed by the end of the month.

Then all I need to do is pick a paint color! And I have no idea what I want. Crap.

Anyway, here are some pics:




See? Shiny! So try to imagine it all over the wall...that's kind of the part I have trouble with.