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.

My new survival strategy: run away!

Around New Year's time, I joke around with my friends that I don't make resolutions, as I am constantly striving for self-improvement. If there is something you see about yourself or your life that needs changing, why wait until the New Year to go for it? I'm thinking most of it has to do with procrastination or with the new year being the time for beginnings, but personally, I take a "no time like the present" attitude. So when I needed a way to step up my workout routine last November, I didn't put it off until January 1. I just dove right in and started the Couch to 5K program.

Now I have never been a runner. Like most pudgy smart kids, my least favorite part of the school day was Gym. Running around the track for 20 minutes was not my idea of a good time, mostly because I hated running. First you start panting, then your legs start complaining, then you get that "my tongue is bleeding" sensation in your mouth until you finally have to stop because you are gasping for air. I've never had a problem walking; stick me on a treadmill and I'll go until next Tuesday, but I have never ever been a runner.

Which made my secret adult goal all the more unobtainable. Because I was always so lousy at sports (or really any physical activity), I have never been able to run a mile. Since so many of my friends consistently participate in 5Ks, marathons, and even triathlons, this wasn't a goal that I went around sharing. After all, it's embarrassing--never in my life having been able to run a mile. But when I started working out a lot last April, in the back of my head I always had a little voice saying, "wouldn't it be nice if I could one day run a whole mile?" So when my friend Andi suggested that we start the Couch to 5K program I was up for it. I needed to up my game, and maybe, just maybe, I could get myself to that mile mark.

Those first few weeks were hard. When week 3 demanded that I run for 3 minute increments, I thought I would fall right off the treadmill. But slowly, my body began to build up its endurance. Soon I was running for 5 minute intervals, then 8, and then, this week, I did the impossible. I ran for an entire mile! Sure, I'm not going fast (it took me 13 minutes), but you know what? I don't care! A year ago, I never would have thought I would be able to go that long, and the weird thing was, I felt strong. As in, physically strong. I have NEVER had a lot of confidence in my body's strength, it's always been my brain that I relied on, but at the end of that mile (despite sweating like crazy and doing the panting thing) I felt good. I felt strong. It's always great to achieve a goal, but for some reason this feeling of accomplishment is one of the best ever.

Next up: getting off the treadmill and running that mile outside. Let's just say that hills are not my friends, but hey, no time like the present, right?

The case of the missing iPod

Well, I thought things were off to a good start. I had remembered all the usual important things: federal ID badge (a must when travelling for work), rubber fingers for flipping through page after countless page of the claims files, my phone, my sleepmask and ear plugs...I thought I had everything I would need to make my week-long work trip in Waco, Texas go without a hitch. But I had forgotten one thing.

My iPod.

I know what you're thinking. "Oh, what a tragedy," you say with your eyes rolling. "To be without your iPod for an entire week. How will you possibly survive? Might as well just go back home and give up since there is no way to function an entire week without an iPod." And it's true that an iPod is not really one of the basic necessities of life. Not like water, or clothing, or chocolate. But as soon as I realized I had forgotten it (it was still sitting in my living room inside the bag I had taken down to the gym), I started thinking of all the things I needed it for. Listening to podcasts at the airport and on the plane. Keeping my brain entertained while running on the treadmill. Cutting out the ambient noise when I spent 8 hours a day briefing cases in a windowless room at the Regional Office all week. And without my iPod, I was also missing the most important accessory: my headphones. All that careful planning to bring my netbook and an attachable DVD player...for naught. For one cannot watch movies on an airplane without headphones.

I responded by taking the action any thirty-something yuppie would--I posted about my problem on Facebook. Within a few minutes, my friend Moe had replied that at least I still had Pandora on my phone. And all of a sudden, my situation was not as hopeless as it seemed! I could still listen to Pandora (an internet radio station) and then I remembered that I had moved my workout mix over to my phone so I could listen to it while using the Couch to 5K app. Things were looking up! Add in a quick trip to the airport store where I procured a pair of purple headphones and we were back in business.

Except the headphones didn't work. Well, I should clarify. One of the ear buds worked, but from the other? Nada. I couldn't get the volume up loud on the netbook enough to make it audible out of the one ear bud, and OF COURSE the shows I was trying to watch didn't have captions. Which is really ridiculous when you consider that they were both British and you would think they would assume us yanks would have no idea what they were saying. Stephen Fry, I am most disappointed in you.

I also thought that perhaps there would be headphones available on the airplane, because it's an airplane, but nope. Apparently American Airlines doesn't bother to equip their flights from DC to Dallas with any kind of audio or video entertainment so that was a no go.

So here I am, at 25,000 feet, composing a blog post (in Microsoft Note Pad because my netbook doesn't have Word), trying to kill the remaining hour of time until we arrive in Dallas. Soon I'll go back to reading my bookclub book (The Help, which is actually quite good), but for now I will just keep typing in the hopes it will make the time go by faster. Look at that, 12 minutes gone by without me even trying.

This is going to be a long week. Also, I want my money back for these damn jacked up headphones...but I'm not really sure how to go around it. After all, I'm about 4 states away from the airport store by now. And I just learned that it's snowing in Texas. Snowing. IN TEXAS.

Simply having a quiet Christmas time

Come closer, gentle readers. I am going to tell you a secret of blogging that most people never learn.

Seriously, come closer.

I SAID COME CLOSER. ARE YOU DEAF??

Ok, that's good.

The great irony of blogging is that to have something to blog about, you have to go out and do fun and awesome things. But if you are out doing fun and awesome things, you are not blogging. You see? Catch-22. I suppose you could have a blog that is about sitting at home on your ass watching Netflix movies through your Wii and drinking $5 wine, but how many people do you think really want to read that. Answer: none.

So my blog has basically gone dark for a few weeks, but the reason is because it was the holidays and I was, you know, out with my friends and family. I can promise that you that I was not sitting at home watching Netflix movies and doing nothing. No, that's only what I have done since New Years.

So how was my Christmas? It was nice and quiet, thanks for asking. My brother and sister-in-law were not at home this year, so it was just us local folks. The holiday followed its usual schedule: Christmas Eve with Dad and the Rileys and Christmas Day with my Mom. My Mom chose not to do a tree again this year, so we had Christmas at my place. We tried to class things up by making cinnamon rolls from scratch and drinking pumpkin martinis, but really it was just hanging out all day. Until the evening when we went out to dinner with my friends Chris and Kent.

And before you ask: no, we did NOT have Chinese food. We went to the Chart House in Old Town and defied the Jewish stereotype thankyouverymuch.

The real highlight of Christmas this year owes a thanks to the wonders of technology. Even though Bill and Amanda couldn't be home, we all signed for Skype and were able to open presents and hang out a bit over the internet. If you haven't used Skype, it's really quite amazing. The other person can be on the other side of the world, but it does feel like you are sitting together chatting. Except for the whole not being able to hug them part, which is kind of a bummer. But it's better than nothing!

So that sums up Christmas. I might do a post about New Years, because there were many shenanigans, but I've been feeling the midwinter blues lately so we'll see if I get around to it. But I do promise to post about adventures in making cinnamon rolls since I took pictures and everything!

The Oregon Trail

I didn't know much about Portland before I headed out there for a work trip last week (remember that horrible flight? Portland is where I was going). Actually, the extent of my knowledge was limited to what I had gleaned from The Oregon Trail, that old PC favorite. Let me assure you that I did not die of a snake bite, or dysentery, or anything else. Oh, and I didn't have to ford any rivers. Although sometimes it felt like I might have to, especially since it pretty much rained every day of my trip. But I wasn't going to let that stop me.

Portland has a very East Coast feel. In fact, it reminded me of Old Town Alexandria. Brick sidewalks, lots of great small restaurants and boutiques, and very walkable. But the people in general seemed a lot more relaxed than us East Coasters; walking around I felt like I was always in a rush and they just seemed to be strolling. The downtown area is full of one way streets, and when there was nothing coming, I would just cross against the light. And those Portlanders looked at me like I was a crazy woman and a lawbreaker. What, I couldn't wait just 30 seconds for the light to change? Well, no actually. I had places to be!

Like Voodoo Doughnut. I first heard about Voodoo Doughnut from the television show Man vs. Food. With sexually explicit doughnut names like chocolate triple penetration and cock and balls, not to mention the overall yummy appearance of their doughnuts, this place was at the top of my Portland To Do list. So one afternoon after the hearings had been conducted, one of the judges and I walked over and got our doughnut on. And let me just tell you. SO GOOD OMG. I started with their signature Voodoo Doll doughnut and it was seriously the best doughnut I have ever had. The shop is open 24/7 and they have numerous and unusual doughnuts to choose from. So I bought 6. You know, in case of doughnut emergency.

Voodoo Doll doughnuts (one missing a bite). And yes, that's a pretzel stick stake through it's heart.

In fact, the best thing about Portland, at least to me, was the food. Every restaurant we tried was delicious with special and unusual menu options, and there is a big focus there on sustainable and organic ingredients. So everything was really fresh. And amazing.

The second best thing about Portland is Powell's Books. It's the largest bookstore in the United States. And seriously, you guys? It's freaking HUGE. It takes up an entire city block (or more) and the different departments are organized into rooms with bookshelf after bookshelf that reach right up to the ceiling. You have to get a map when you get in, or you can get hopelessly lost, which honestly might not be that bad since there are so many awesome books everywhere you look. And stuff that you can't find anywhere else. Powell's sells both new and used books, so any random thing that someone decides to bring to them ends up on the shelves, which means there are lots of gems just waiting to be discovered by the wayward book wanderer.

Inside the Science Fiction/Fantasy "room" at Powell's Books.

After spending the week at the Portland Regional VA Office, I had all day Saturday to myself to sight-see. I was supposed to meet up with my friend Wendy, but she got called into work on Saturday, so I had to amuse myself. Despite the pouring rain, I made it across the river to the Oregon Museum of Science and Industry (OMSI) to take a gander at their planetarium. I'm kind of a sucker for planetariums and astronomy. I think it has something to do with my love of Greek mythology, since so many of the stars, constellations, planets, etc. are named after myths. Anyhoodle, planetariums are my thing, and while at OMSI I got to see the Holiday laser show (I have always wanted to see a laser show) and a short lecture/show on the December night sky. In a cool twist, I was the only one at the night sky show, so I basically had my own personal planetarium presentation. And the guy doing it was kinda cute, so, bonus!

Luckily for me, Wendy decided to drive down to Portland after work on Saturday and we got to spend the evening hanging out. We got the best Italian food ever (at Mama Mia's on 1st Avenue), a bottle of wine, and then just hung out in the posh hotel watching Indiana Jones. It had been too many months to count since I had last seen her, so basically, it was a great Saturday night.

And you'll all be happy to know that my flight home on Sunday was completely uneventful without a hangover in sight. And thank god I didn't come through Chicago. Because that place is just a mess.

The Christmas Tree at Pioneer Courthouse Square.

The lobby of the Hotel Monaco, where I spent an entire week. Good thing it was so posh.

The Worst Flight Ever

Before I launch into my sad cross-country adventure, let me just say, it was all my fault. I knew that I had to leave for the airport at 6 in the morning. I knew that Selvi's birthday party was the night before. I knew that drinking that many rum and cokes was probably not the best idea. But still. WORST FLIGHT EVER.

Here's the whole story. As noted above, Selvi's birthday party was Saturday night, the night before my flight to Portland where I would be spending the week for work. To celebrate her natal day, we had a 1920s murder mystery party (more on that next week when I get home and get the pics uploaded) and it was an absolute blast. Everyone got dressed up, acted in character, and the booze was flowing. Perhaps flowing a bit too liberally for me. And unfortunately, it had been a really busy week, so that whole packing thing hadn't really happened. Which meant when I got home around midnight it took me another hour to throw all my stuff into the suitcase. I finally got to bed at 1.

And the alarm went off 4 hours later. And then the hangover hit me. I had the shakes, was completely nauseous and just all around felt like crap. After vomiting a couple times (not kidding), I cowboyed up and went down to meet my cab. Then I got the call. For some inexplicable reason, the cops had decided to shut down the road by my apartment building. On both sides. Going both directions. So the cab was not able to come get me. So me and my luggage dragged ourselves down the street and up the hill to the church parking lot where my cab was. As you can see, things were not going well.

After arriving at the airport, my nausea only got worse but I managed to hold it together. And of course, I ran into one of the judges I was traveling with while going through security and found out we were on the same flights. So I had to fake it. And I thought I did a pretty good job...until about 30 minutes into the flight to Chicago. When I had to get up, make my way down to the lavatory...and get sick. Yes, folks, I have never had motion sickness in my life, but I was defeated. I spent the rest of the flight huddled in the last row clutching a barf bag and trying not to get sick again. Sigh.

Worst. Flight. Ever.

Eventually, I managed to sleep a little while, and when I got to Chicago and walked around a bit (and ate a bagel) I actually started feeling better. I slept more on the flight to Portland and 5 hours later felt human again. I even walked around the city a bit when I arrived and got an early dinner. But dear god, that was one of the worst mornings of my life. My friend Mac asked me whether the night before was worth it, and at 7 am I wasn't sure...but upon further reflection, it totally was. Nights that fun don't come along every day.

Next time I just need to remember, every action (i.e. rum and coke) has an equal and opposite reaction. Or, what goes down must come up.

Do you like my pants?

Because guess what? I hemmed them with my OWN TWO HANDS.

That's right. I have finally demonstrated a useful adult skill. It only took 30 years. And trust me, any woman will tell you that being able to hem a pair of pants is of far more practical use than say, stopping a leaky faucet, fixing a dishwasher, laying hardwood flooring, or installing custom bookshelves. I mean, how many times do you really do those things? Whereas you constantly need to hem pants.

Combining this skill with my excellent baking and burgeoning cooking abilities...there may be hope for me yet in the event of a zombie apocalypse. Because the survivors are not going to need lawyers. But they will need properly fitting pants.

Country roads, takin me to Nate's home

Did you know you can be in West Virginia by driving less than 2 hours from DC? I know that logically I could have looked at a map and figured this out, but experiencing it in person made it seem a heck of a lot more tangible. And not to go all city mouse on you, it's kind of a different world. Dirt roads, tractor shows, general stores, mountains covered with trees of changing leaves, it's definitely a different life. And now I know someone who lives in it!

My friend Nate, tired of this urban lifestyle (at least during the weekend), decided to buy a cabin out in West Virginia. He's a county boy at heart, and now every weekend he drives out there to recharge his batteries. And being such a good friend, I invited myself along for a Saturday to check out the new digs.

Let me just say: gorgeous. I'm not sure I could drive 2 hours each way just to get home only on the weekends, but this place looks like something out of a magazine.


And I basically picked the perfect time to visit. The weather was cool, the sky was blue, and the leaves were changing. Did I mention the three story deck running around the entire house? And Nate's parents happened to be in town so I got to hang out with his gorgeous mother and adorable father. We watched Star Trek 3 and I provided color commentary. Since I have an encyclopedic knowledge of useless Star Trek facts.

But we didn't just sit around. Nate and I went and had lunch at the General Store down at the bottom of the mountain (!!) and then we went to the Lost River State Park and walked around. There was a sulpher spring, playground, and Lee cabin museum (that once belonged to Light Horse Harry Lee). It was a beautiful day and we had fun just wandering around and enjoying the changing foliage.

Now, it's not like I've never been in the country. My grandmother had a cabin in Minnesota that we used to visit every year. Now that was a cabin. No running water, no electricity...using the outhouse, that's an adventure. But I think in our suburban/urban world it's easy to forget that you can drive just a few hours and escape into a slower quieter place. And don't we all need that sometimes?

So to sum up: Nate's cabin = made of win. You should go!

You know what they say....

....sometimes you actually should meet your heroes.

This past weekend, at the tenth annual National Book Festival (pretty much the only good thing to come out of the Bush presidency), my favorite author of the moment, Suzanne Collins, put in an appearance. For those of you who aren't familiar with her, she is the author of the book trilogy, The Hunger Games. These books have been blowing my mind for the last three years, and I was not about to pass up the chance to see her in the flesh.

This was actually the first time I had ever been to the festival; it first landed on my radar about 5 years ago when I returned to the DC area from school. And ever since then, I have been out of town every year during the last weekend of September. Every. Single. Year.

But this year would be a different story (see what I did there?). I was going to be in town, and I had plans to go into the office. Which worked out perfectly, since the book festival was taking place on the Mall, just a quick walk from work. Suzanne Collins was the second speaker in the Teen tent, so I figured I could get into work early, pop down there and here her speak, get a book signed, and then get back to the office. And while my plan ended up working out, I kind of underestimated the distance between my office and the spot on the Mall where the festival was being held. So basically it was 2 miles rather than 1 mile. It only took me about 20 minutes to get down there, but since it was so hot that day, let's just say I was a little....damp.

The good news is, I was able to snag a standing spot directly behind the last row of chairs, straight back from the stage, and only about 40 feet from the podium. The tent was packed with kids, teenagers, and adults all eager to hear what The Hunger Games author had to say. She started out with a 15 minute prepared presentation where she spoke about her background as a military brat and how she was raised in an environment where military strategy and history were basically dinner table talk. She spoke about being a kid when her father went to Vietnam and how she didn't really understand what that meant until she saw news footage depicting the graphic horror of the war. Her father came home and from her description, it seems pretty clear that he had some post-traumatic stress disorder going on.


From speaking about her childhood, Ms. Collins then moved on to describing how her first series, The Underland Chronicles, was meant to introduce young adults to all the different facets of war and its meaning and toll. With The Hunger Games, which was born of a night of channel surfing between reality television and Iraq war coverage, she stumbled upon the perfect vehicle to fuse her interest in war, media, Roman culture, and Greek mythology. She pointed out the many parallels between her stories and Greek myths (especially Theseus and the Minotaur) and how the worst punishment the Greeks could dole out was to kill your children. By killing your children, they were doing worse than killing you, they were killing your future.

After the fascinating talk/lecture, Ms. Collins took questions from the audience. From little kids to some elderly folk, everyone had a question. And the audience wasn't afraid to weigh in; there was a spoiler-free policy on the questions as not everyone had read Mockingjay, and when one tween tried to ask a question about the end of the book, she got heavily booed from the crowd (as not everyone had read it). Ms. Collins told her to come up to the stage afterwards and whisper the question. in her ear People asked about where the characters for The Hunger Games came from (Katniss just popped into her head, fully realized), the geography of Panem (she didn't reveal anymore than what's in the books), where her character names originated (Capitol names are Roman influenced, Katniss and Prim from edible flowers, and other characters name echo their Districts) and where the idea of 13 Districts came from (the 13 original American colonies). And of course, there was a question about Team Peta and Team Gale. Ms. Collins smoothly answers that she didn't like one over the other, in her mind, a love triangle is only successful if it presents an impossibly hard choice, a Casablanca style choice. To her both Peta and Gale were strong and worthy enough of Katniss, but life, as they say, can change a person.

By the end of the session, it was already 11 in the morning and the signing wasn't scheduled to start for another half hour. So I decided to skip it and head back to the office. After spending 20 minutes wandering around looking for the entrance to the L'Enfant Plaza metro (seriously, could it be harder to find??) it was back to the work grindstone. But at least I had come just a little close to greatness and been near one of the most brilliant modern literary minds.

In Jane Austen Country

We were talking about some kind of England trip, weren't we? So, previously on the blog: Maggie, Kristin, and Rachel arrived in London and immediately start sight-seeing. We packed in as much as possible in that one day (which is huge and rife with history). The next day we still spent the day wandering around, but this time it was wandering around the country-side, as we traveled to Steventon and the surrounding area, the home of Jane Austen.

We took the train about an hour west from London and met up with our friendly tour-guide, Phil. Yep, that's right, we decided to book a private tour with Phil who offers tours of Steventon for Jane Austen-philes like us. We felt super posh as Phil met us at the train station and drove us around in his nifty van. And I think he was super impressed by Kristin's encyclopedic Jane Austen knowledge. In fact, we had a great mix of knowledge: Kristin knew everything, I knew some stuff, and Rachel was a complete newbie. So Phil had his work cut out for him, but at the end of the day he assured us he couldn't remember the last time he had so much fun giving a tour.

Our first stop was Steventon Church, where Jane Austen's father was the rector and where she attended church. It's tucked down a narrow country lane and isn't distinguished by any great architecture or signs, which somehow makes it even more special.

Steventon Church

Here's the three of us outside the church:

To the right of the church's door is a huge yew tree which, according to Phil, is more than 1,000 years old. I'm not sure the pictures accurately portray the size of the thing, but it looks like something out of a fantasy book, Middle Earth, or something like that. Apparently, there is a registry for yew trees like this throughout all of England, and people go on tours just to visit them. Dorks. *said the girl on a Jane Austen tour*

After the church, we continued our tour of the area. What's so great about Steventon is how unspoiled it is. Not just in terms of tourism, but also with development. Sure there are modern houses, but right next to them are thatch-roofed cottages and buildings that were visited by Jane Austen herself. For example, the traveler's stop where she would walk to pick up her post is still there (the original building) and it's still kind of a rest stop: it's a restaurant and pub located off the main road.

One of the places we went after the church was the site of the rectory, the Austen's home and where Jane grew up. While the house is gone, and it's just a field (with a bunch of cows) now, the lime tree planted by Jane's brother, George, is still there. It too is rather large. But you would be too if you had been planted almost 200 years ago.

After some more ramblings (I kind of have a tendency to take off in whatever direction I am pointed in when visiting the country), we stopped by The Vyne, a 16th century estate built for King Henry VIII's Lord Chamberlain that you can now walk around and eat at the restaurant, etc. The rooms were, of course, impressive and the Austens were guests there when the family held balls. Think of the Bingley's in Pride and Prejudice having everyone over to dance. Before touring the house, we wandered around the grounds during a break in the clouds, and of course it started pouring rain about 2 minutes later. Welcome to England! Another interesting thing at the house was a special art exhibition: in each room one or two extremely modern furniture pieces or accessories were mixed in with the traditional furnishings. It made for a fascinating juxtaposition, and sometimes you couldn't even tell the difference!

The Vyne

Our last stop of the day was also the most emotional. We went to the small cottage in Chawton where Jane, her sister, and her mother moved after the death of her father. Jane was not happy to leave her childhood home, and after some time in Bath, the family ended up in Chawton. Their home was modest, but it was her actual house. She walked across those floors, looked out the same windows, and sat in the garden. On display in the house was some of her original hand-written piano music, letters she had written her family, and even a lock of her hair given as a gift to a family-member.

But I think the coolest thing we saw was a quilt that Jane, her sister, and mother had sewed for brother while he served in the Navy. Again, what gets me are the tangible items that Jane touched and created, things that prove that she was a real breathing person and not just a name printed on the spine of a book.

As a special treat, the Chawton house had one of those historical actor people posing as a nineteenth century apothecary. Apparently, he and Phil were friends, and Phil called me over to meet him since he performed a lot in Williamsburg (and Phil knew I had attended William and Mary). The actor guy was really English, but he lived in Williamsburg part of the year as he did so much work there. Small world, huh?

Thus endeth my adventures in Jane Austen land. It wasn't really something we could have done on our own, since you've got to have a car to get around to all those sights. I also don't think there's any way we could have found half the houses since the roads there aren't exactly well-labeled. So getting our own private tour guide ended up being more than just a treat, it was a necessity. But we seriously had a great time, and just like Phil said, we laughed the entire day!

This ain't no country club, this is LA.

We interrupt your regularly scheduled England post-trip coverage to bring you a report on my recent travel to Los Angeles. My brother and sister-in-law unexpectedly and suddenly packed up and moved from Detroit to Los Angeles only a month ago when he got a sweet offer from a rocket engineering firm called SpaceX. Yeah, you read that right. ROCKET ENGINEERING. My brother: he is pretty badass. Also, at his job they get free soda, coffee, and frozen yogurt. Free fro-yo, people!

Since the move was so sudden, my sister-in-law didn't have a job lined up so while she looks for ministering opportunities, Mom and I decided to take advantage of the long weekend and spend some time in sunny LA. I was there about 15 years ago (yikes) when I was a sophomore in high school. On that visit I stayed with a friend who lived in the downtown area and mostly what I remembered was it being brown and very very hot. Lucky for me, Bill and Amanda settled in the Redondo Beach area, only a few miles from the beach. This meant high temperatures of around 75, sunny skies, and lovely morning fog known as the marine layer.

Not one to sit around on my ass (HAHA! Sarcasm, you dig?), Amanda and I hiked every morning with and without the puggle, Newton. We even convinced my brother to come with us one morning, as we hiked along the bluffs in Ranchos Palos Verdes. It was too foggy to see all the way to Catalina, but there's nothing like standing on a cliff, the Pacific ocean spreading out before you, with a cool breeze on your brow.

One of my favorite things that we did was visit the La Brea tar pits. Despite my Dad's assistance that we stop by the volcano that's nearby (he has trouble separating movies from reality sometimes), the pits were just as advertised. Big pools full of bubbling tar. I'm definitely spoiled by the Smithsonian, but the museum was actually really cool. A lot of people, including me, assume that the tar pits trapped dinosaurs, but the truth is the animals recovered from its depths are from the ice age only 25,000 years ago. Think saber tooth cats and dire wolves. Also, mammoths! And did you know that LA was once home to lions?? I didn't , but there you go. An educational vacation. Oh, also? Saber tooth cats are fucking SCARY, dude. Those teeth are big.

But my most favoritest thing of all was spending time with my family and friends, be it sitting on the couch watching movies, cooking s'mores over the firepit in the backyard, sitting down to one of Amanda's amazing home-cooked meals, or hitting the Redondo pier with my LA-based friends, Patrick and Rosa. Coming on the heels of my constantly on the move England trip, it was kind of nice to take things a bit slower. I spent hours just sitting in the sun in the backyard reading, a dog at my feet. It don't get much better than that, folks.

Now I'm back home, back at work, and thinking ahead to the next trip: Las Vegas over Columbus Day weekend. But there's a touch of fall in the air and if I stand on the balcony and close my eyes, it's almost like being back on that California cliff. Oh, and I could definitely get used to the idea of a California casual wardrobe.

Jane Austen's England

It may seem that this has turned into a travel blog, but the truth is, I have been traveling a lot lately and it's just going to keep going until the end of the year. I've got trips planned every month until December, but the good news is that you, gentle readers, can come along with me! At least feel that you did after the fact when I share the stories and photos from the trips.

On August 12, Kristin, Rachel, and I took to the skies and traveled to merry olde England for a Jane Austen themed trip. We were planning to hit not only the big sight-seeing spots, but also walk in the footsteps of one of the most beloved authors in the English language. Armed with our resident Austen expert (cough Kristin cough) we were ready to see it all!

We took the redeye to London Heathrow on Thursday night and arrived at 8 the next morning. I managed to scam some Ambien from a friend (who shall remain nameless) to ensure that I slept on the flight, since we had a full day of sight-seeing planned immediately upon our arrival. And I cannot function without sleep, it's just a fact. After landing, we hopped the tube (i.e. London Underground, i.e. subway) to downtown London to check in to our hotel, which was in a prime location in the Mayfair District by the Green Park tube stop. And then we were off!

Any visit to London must include a stop at Westminster Abbey. It is, hands down, my favorite London sight as it contains so much British history it gives me a little learning-gasm. From monarchs to artists, some of the most important figures in history are buried here (Elizabeth I, Charles Dickens, etc. etc.). And in Poets Corner, there is a plaque honoring Jane Austen. Hence, it fit right in to theme of our trip. While wandering around, we had some trouble locating it, so we asked a docent where it was. He helpfully pointed it out, but then came back our way a few minutes later with some questions of his own. He asked us, "what is it about Jane Austen that has made her so popular?" and he also wanted to know if we thought her popularity was just a fad brought on by the latest film adaptions of her novels. Kristin eloquently pointed out that the real appeal of Austen lay in her understanding of people and what motivated them to love, laugh, cry, and live. We assured him that the appreciation of her books was NOT a fad, and she would be around for a long time. He tried to talk up the merits of other authors like Charles Dickens and Thomas Hardy, but we weren't having it. Viva la Austen!

After Westminster Abbey, we wandered down to Trafalgar Square, where Lord Nelson perched on his impressive column flanked by massive stone lions, and took some pictures. By this time, it was starting to rain and we were hungry, so a quick look at our Rick Steve's guidebook confirmed that there was a cafe in the Church of St. Martin-in-the-Fields across the street. But it wasn't just any cafe--it was located underground in the crypt. It may sound creepy, but it was actually really cool and the food wasn't bad either.

Trafalgar Square. The large domed building on the left is the National Gallery. The spire on the right belongs to St. Martin-in-the-Fields where we had lunch in the crypt.

We were just getting started with our London day, so we hopped on the tube and headed to Kings Cross Station, for a quick visit to Platform 9 and 3/4. That's right, the infamous Harry Potter platform is immortalized at the Kings Cross station to allow for photo opportunities. There's even half a luggage trolley sticking out of the wall as if someone was making their way to the Hogwarts Express.

A quick walk down the road took us to the British Library, where in the Sir John Ritblat Gallery are displayed the treasures of the British Library including the Magna Carta, illuminated bibles, original manuscripts from some of Britain's greatest authors, and handwritten lyrics from The Beatles. It also happens to have Jane Austen's writing desk and some of her original letters. Maybe it's the history dork in me, but it was such a moving experience to see books, letters, and other documents dating back to over a 1,000 years ago. Seeing Austen's letters was for me akin to that moment in Deathly Hallows, when Harry finds the letter from his mother. If I may paraphrase, "here was tangible proof that she had lived--that she had put pen to paper." Very cool.

After the British Library, we decided to maximize our sightseeing time for the afternoon by getting on the Big Bus tour. It's one of those "hop on, hop off" deals, and is a great way to see most of the big sights and get the lay of the land. We rode it all around, getting off at St. Paul's Cathedral. Our hope was to get there before 6 to see the free Evensong service, but unfortunately we just missed it. Bummer. Luckily, the St. Paul area (actually the one mile square area known as "The City" as it was the original London and now the financial district) is home to London's oldest pubs. So we got ourselves some dinner at the Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese pub, most recently rebuilt in 1667. That's right, 1667. There were tables tucked away in every corner, and once you thought a room would end, you'd realize that it just going on in a veritable maze of medieval furnishings. All of the pub tables were full and the dining room appeared to have been completely reserved for later in the evening, but the waiter took pity on three tired American tourists and let us sit in the dining room as long as promised not to linger. The best roast beef and yorkshire pudding I'd ever had and a pint of cider later, things were looking up, and we caught the last Big Bus back to Victoria Station where the tour ended.

At the Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese:




On the way we drove over the Tower Bridge, past the Tower of London and the London Eye, over London Bridge, past Marble Arch, and ended up back at the beginning of the tour. From there, it was a quick tube ride back to our hotel and COLLAPSE. Remember, we had gotten at most 4 hours of sleep the night before on the plane and had immediately gotten our sight-seeing on. None of us had any trouble falling asleep that night, and we had the promise of our next day's adventure in front of us: Oxford and a visit to Blenheim Palace!

Here are some more random London photos:

Houses of Parliament and the clock tower (Big Ben is actually the name of the clock inside the tower).

The front of St. Paul's Cathedral, Christopher Wren represent! Also, I hear you can get bird food there for a really food deal. Tuppens a bag or thereabouts.

Lord Nelson atop his column in Trafalgar Square.

Did you know that I have a street? And am a saint. Bitchin.