Everybody's Workin' for the Weekend . . .

I have been quite neglectful of the blog lately, and I am so, so sorry!

This week has been . . . a week.

However, I am now trying to ac-cen-tuate the positive things in my life, so I can gladly say that I am happy that the week transpired without any sort of nervous breakdown, so I can fully enjoy the upcoming weekend.

I was at an awards ceremony for the Literacy Council last night, so I missed “Hit Me Baby One More Time.” Recap will have to wait till Monday.

We are having some friends over on Saturday night for an evening of catching up and playing games. They had a little daughter born in November and we are eager to see her.

Sunday, I’m having lunch with another friend who is going through a lot of life changes right now, but we usually pencil in a monthly lunch to check in and get advice from each other. I’m really looking forward to a nice leisurely Sunday.

I wish I could comment on the recent Supreme Court decision on eminent domain (http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2005/06/23/AR2005062300783.html), but the actual decision is much more complicated than meets the eye and I have heard very compelling arguments on both sides. I did not agree with the final decision, and I actually agreed with the minority opinions. I really need to bone up on my Constitutional law though . . . much is happening lately in the context of the Bill of Rights that is quite worrisome to me, but I think I need more information to make sure my instincts are correct.

I haven’t been running at all this week. Yesterday I went to the doctor and he told me that I had gained a pound from last year. This was disappointing, because I know that I had actually lost a bunch in the Spring, but I have managed to gain it back again in spades. But it also means that I can lose if I start running again fairly soon and keep it up through the Fall.

There is much going on with my immediate family that I should write to you all about. My grandmother is moving to Arizona, after living with my parents ever since my youngest sister was born. My older younger sister is coming back to the states and is going to be stationed in El Paso, TX. We had hoped for Walter Reed, so she would be close and we could hang out occasionally again, but at least she won’t be in a war zone. My youngest younger sister is finishing up her master’s in education in the next year and has said that she won’t be coming back to Northern Virginia when she graduates – she wants to teach in rural areas of the state. I got the vibe from my parents on Father’s Day that they will pretty much wash their hands of her when she graduates. Their words made me feel really sad and hurt, but I didn’t know how to call them on it. None of us three daughters is the most communicative, but we work hard and try to make our folks proud, maybe just not in the conventional ways, but we try . . . maybe I was reading a disappointment in me too in what they were saying? Like they say the exact same thing about me when talking to extended family?

There is so much history and emotion hidden in that above paragraph that I don’t even know where to begin. So I will keep movin’ on, not dwelling on it for now, trying to enjoy the sunshine while it lasts.

What City Fits Me Best?

I was trolling around the Blogosphere this morning, trying to get my brain in gear, and came across this quiz.

It's kind of funny, but for a long time I REALLY, REALLY wanted to move to Boston when I was in my 20's. Why? Well it's a pretty historic city and has lots of colleges, museums, public transportation . . . lots of cool things I look for in a location. It is also WAY expensive to live there and, now that I am married to a California Boy, it is way too cold. I am such city girl though . . . and I have always been curious about Chicago . . .

Question of the day: What U.S. city would you like to live in if you had the chance?

Discuss! :-)

American Cities That Best Fit You:

60% Boston

60% Philadelphia

55% Chicago

55% New York City

50% Los Angeles

Which American Cities Best Fit You?

Sunshine Barato (“Cheap” Sunshine)

(A cheery Bossa Nova album for today – check out the band at www.mosquitosnyc.com!)

It’s a beautiful day here in Northern VA . . . the sun is shining, it isn’t humid, and my mind wanders outside of the walls of this non-descript building sitting in the middle of this non-descript office park.

I have much to do this weekend – helping a friend move on Saturday, having my parents over on Sunday – and downtime will be non-existent.

Running in place at the moment, I am. I feel like selling the condo and moving elsewhere, just for different scenery. Itching to travel and enjoy the sunshine.

Last Sunday, we went to a going away dinner for a friend of mine, L, who is moving back to Sydney, Australia this week. She has dual U.S./Aussie citizenship, and had come over to the States to see the World Cup in 1994 and just kind of stuck around for 11 years. At this point, she wasn’t thrilled with her job (she worked for the DLC) or the vibe she’s been getting in the States, so she thought “what the heck?” She’s in her 30’s and single, found a job combining her love of politics and international soccer, and found a great apartment overlooking Sydney harbor. I am insanely happy for her, and only a bit jealous. Which is why I need to get a passport and quite soon . . . although 15 hours on a plane is not something I would really look forward to. It was quite a teary good-by – I’ve known her for 10 years which, outside of family and the lovely Justrose, is one of the longest friendships I’ve had. There is a whole group of us that met around 1995 and still hang out from time to time. (A bunch of us married each other too, which makes things even chummier.) But slowly people have been moving away, whether physically or mentally, for business or for family reasons – and this makes me very sad sometimes.

In this transient area, it is really hard to keep friends that you have such a shared history with, that you don’t have to explain the odd references to past events and people. I am glad that I can check in from time to time, but I do miss the old days when we went out rather often and were thick as thieves, discussing everyone’s crappy jobs and loser dates and campaign intrigues, going to cheap happy hours and the odd congressional receptions where our mantra was “If it’s free, it’s for me.” Why is it when you’re young and broke you can always scrape together money for going out? I can’t seem to find the money now, and there are TWO of us to pool our earnings.

Those truly were the years of “cheap sunshine” and limitless opportunity. Sometimes it’s hard to remember that 10 years from now that I’ll be looking at today the same way – and that I need to take advantage of that accordingly.

A Random Meme I Found Somewhere

Found on another Blog . . . hey, it beats having to come up with interesting content when you're pressed for time. :-)

My uncle once: Taught me how to play at his awesome pool table in the basement, (which is a very impressive skill to other guys) and instilled in me a love of gadgets.

Never in my life: did I expect to marry a guy from Southern California who is almost EXACTLY like me. What a funky small world!

When I was five: I loved to draw pictures and make up stories to go with them.

High school was: a time of missed opportunities and great disappointments.

I will never forget: July 6, 2000.

I once met: Emily Couric, Katie Couric’s sister, who was a rising star here in Virginia politics. She spoke at a annual dinner we had and hung out for a bit afterwards. She was a very friendly, sweet, funny, cool lady who didn’t deserve to die so young from pancreatic cancer.

Once at a bar: I watched a friend of mine go home with some slimy salesman guy – I couldn’t stop her either.

By noon I'm usually: starting to fully wake up . . . I am a night person.

Last night: I taught my ESL class, in which I dumped half of the exercises I was supposed to do because they really sucked and it would have taken me forever to try to explain what the book meant, and the concepts weren’t that important anyway.

If only I had: traveled the world when I was young and single. Money was a major delimiter, but that shouldn’t have stopped me.

Next time I go to church: will be Sunday. I’ll have to be there early for Choir practice, since we stopped Wed. night practices for the summer.

I have a confession to make: I actually loved the Britney-Christina-N’SYNC-Backstreet Boys heyday in the late ‘90s. That was some happy music there . . .

When I turn my head left: I can see the various Arts Festival posters I have on my office wall, along with a faded Mardi Gras piñata that we used for decoration at our New Orleans conference sitting on top of the 3 bookcase along that wall, a struggling houseplant, a rotating fan, and a miniature Curious George lunch box that a previous employee bequeathed me.

When I turn my head right: I can see a bulletin board full of paper, three calendars, one large poster of a photo by Margaret Bourke-White, one matted print of Matisse’s “Les Betes de la Mer,” one white wall clock, one clock radio.

You know when I'm lying when: I turn a little pale.

Every day I think about: how I weigh more than I'd like to at this point.

By this time next year: I want to have my passport and a place to go.

I have a hard time understanding: why people so care about what other consenting adults do amongst themselves.

If I ever go back to school I'll: . . . Hey, there is no IF! It is merely WHEN! Probably for Legal and Community Studies. Or for Teaching. Still pondering . . .

You know I like you when: I do nice stuff for you.

If I won an award the first person I'd thank is: My sweet hubby.

My ideal breakfast is: Fresh Fruit salad, vanilla yogurt and bacon/sausage and/or ham.

A song I love, but do not have is: "Kiss Me" by Sixpence None the Richer.

If you visit my hometown, I suggest: that you come in February when there aren’t any tourists around, so then we can blissfully visit the Smithsonian museums without any crowds. Such heaven!

Why won't anyone: vote in local primaries? The turnout was dismal yesterday, and now people will complain about the candidates they are stuck with in November. People, the real choices are available at the Primary level. What is this "I Didn't know there was one" stuff? Or "I didn't feel informed enough about the candidates." - Don't you people watch TV or read the papers?

If you spend the night at my house: Give us a week lead time, so we can clean all of the boxes and piles of paper off of the guest room bed.

I'd stop my wedding for: My stupid family, who is always late to everything.

The world could do without: Colds . . . they are just annoying . . . the flu at least people take seriously that you feel horrible . . .

I'd rather lick the belly of a cockroach than: Have to eat one.

Paper clips are more useful than: just having the copies collated, because inevitably someone will try to even out all of the pages and then screw up the copies.

If I do anything well: I don’t know what it is, because I will always happen to know people who can do it ten times better.

And by the way: When I was 12 years old, I wanted to be a political cartoonist - doing a strip like Doonesbury. :-)

I hereby send this on to whoever wants to do it . . . no pressure! :-)

Want Some Cheese With That Whine?

OK . . . I hereby impose a ban on my whining about my job until September. By then I will have gone through the whole summer and finished my 2 week vacation. No one wants to hear it and I get sick of writing it . . .

Part of the problem is that I have done NO running in a month. I took one Saturday off to go to the Farmer’s Market, and then got busy with conference preparations and other stuff and put running on the back burner. I KNOW that I have gained weight in the interim, because I have been eating just horribly and drinking more sodas. The lack of exercise and putting on weight has just helped make my mood most foul.

This weekend I will start running again and get back on the schedule. I will not be able to do a Ten Miler or Half-Marathon in July, but maybe I can still do a 10K. Y’all are my witnesses now! If you don’t see me writing about my running for over a week, do call me on it, OK?

Positive thinking is the key! My job now is to just get through the summer and then see what develops.

Other goals for this summer:

*FINALLY apply for a Passport
*Apply to go back to school in Spring 2006
*Get a digital camera for our train trip to the West Coast in August
*Work on redoing the kitchen (Stripping the hideous wallpaper, painting the walls and the cabinets)
*Fix up the guest room for Fall guests . . . maybe even get that nice IKEA daybed that I’ve been eyeing for a while.

Last Thing . . .

The MJ trial is finally over! I totally agree with the verdict – remember, the trial was not about “Do you think this guy is a psycho freak?” . . . the jurors were given specific instructions to pay attention to the counts at hand, and by sitting there for three months and reviewing the testimony, the jury made a rational, reasonable decision - the prosecution just was not able to nail down the reasonable doubt. However, anyone who lets their kids hang out there from now on should be sued for child endangerment. And if MJ is smart, he will pack up Neverland and get the heck out of this country – because if he ever does end up in jail, he sure isn’t going to last very long. Before the verdict came down, my husband and I thought that he probably wouldn’t survive in jail long enough for an appeal - that is if he didn’t try to commit suicide first.

I guess now they’ll find some other celebrity-related hoo-hah to fill up the airwaves with . . . my bet is on the Tom Cruise/Katie Holmes thing. I think the cast of Dawson’s Creek need to do an intervention on the poor girl . . . Tom Cruise is just too creepy for words.

Five Things I Miss From Childhood . . .

(Taken from the Rowhouse)

*The large amounts of free time that one has when you are in school that were used to read huge amounts of books and watch incredible amounts of TV – usually both at the same time.

*Going to school at Doogie Howser High (See Justrose for details)

*The friends I made at Doogie Howser High

*Useful and accessible public transportation systems

*My Grandpa Henry ;-(

. . . Otherwise, I am quite happy to have left childhood behind . . . being grown up is much more fun. :-)

Life is Semi-Normal Again

The conference is now over . . . and life is back to semi-normal again. I tried to post to the blog on Saturday morning by e-mail and, of course, this time it didn't work. It was actually well thought out first too . . . major bummer!

We have today off since we had to work on Saturday, and I was at the conference all day both Friday and Saturday - from 7:30 AM to 10 PM each day. By Saturday night I was exhausted, and you could see the tiredness in my face and hear it in my voice. I am a shy person by nature, but I can be "on" when I have to be. However, 14 hours straight of doing so just drives me to major depression and tears. I won't be less friendly, but my brain will just start to shut down, and I start feeling like life really sucks.

Many good things came out of this conference . . . everyone told my husband what a wonderful job he's been doing with all of his publications and what an asset to the organization he's been for the 11 years he's worked there. He totally deserves the praise, by the way, and I was so pleased to finally see him get recognition for all the late hours he puts in for the place. My colleauge in my department, has started to come into her own finally being recognized for all the fabulous work she's done on children's issues and juvenile justice over the past 7 years. I am so happy and excited for her!

But when I get tired and sad, I feel like - well, what the heck am I doing? What contribution am I making? The program that I manage, because it is so broad based, is not getting much funding anymore - and anything that I suggest that might change that fact - you know, do decent outcome measurements of the work the sites do, make sites reapply every few years to get rid of the dead weight, change the grant structure a bit - all have been met with, well, not derision, because my boss does think they are good ideas, - but they organization as a whole doesn't want to put the resources into making those changes at this time. Because of their financial sitiuation, they are looking fot the short-term bucks, which means dooing small "shiny"programs, which may or may not mach up with what we have been trying to do in the larger program.

It is very frustrating, and I probably should look for a new job and take my talents elsewhere and stop beating my head against the wall. But . . .

Ah, yes, the siren song of the non-profit. The hours are pretty sweet normally. I get a pretty good amound of sick and vacation days. When it is time for maternity leave, they have a pretty sweet deal, and they know my work well enough that I could probably wrangle a part-time/work from home schedule afterwards. Since my husband works there, and has for a long time, things are quite flexible for both of us. If I leave the place, I doubt I would have such flexibility for a long, long time. The work would be more rewarding, mind you, but I probably would not have the time I do now to persue all of the things that I like to do in my off hours - which mean a great deal to me. The pay sucks, but it is still pretty good for the non-profit world.

So I spend many a sleepless night and daydreaming day, turning these facts over and over in my head, wondering what to do. Writing this down doesn't seem to help much, but maybe if I keep sharing, the answer will appear one day, and I can stop thinking about this and move on with my life . . .

To the Hill and Back

Today is the first day of my non-profit’s annual conference. We had a legislative plenary in the morning in which we gave awards to two congresspeople (one Repub, one Dem) for their work on our issues. The conference is being held, as it has been for the past 5 years, at a hotel on Capitol Hill. My husband and I had to be there by seven this morning, so we got up at dawn, filled ourselves up with Starbucks and made our way into the Big City.

It is always interesting, living outside of what is known as the “capital of the free world.” When you first move here, everything is a bit awe inspiring . . . seeing the monuments, walking by the White House, seeing the Capitol building. Look, there are Senators and Congressmen! Look, there is the Supreme Court! Look, there is the President! Big important things are done here!

But then you live here for a while . . . you have friends who work in congressional offices, at the White House, at the Pentagon, or in one of the many federal agencies. You work for non-profits on different issues that you care about. You learn how things actually work and things don’t seem so big and awe inspiring anymore. You know the intricacies of various government processes – you see how people are human, and as such are just average joes, doing their jobs to the best of their abilities, following their beliefs and values just like everyone else. You become more realistic. You learn there is no black and white, just shades of gray. You learn to actually read the source documents to find the real truth, and not pay any attention to any slap fights in the media about any one subject. You realize that the “Beltway Pundits” are just shrill shills, stirring up emotions for a paycheck and you try to pay them no mind, because really, most of the time they have no freakin’ idea what they are actually talking about.

You look at the monuments and are no longer thrilled. The tourists are annoyance, double parking randomly in the middle of the street, clogging up the Metro escalators, having dubious fashion sense. You look at the increased security and don’t feel any safer – in fact, some of the stuff seems to make things worse. (For example, underground tourist entrances? I’d rather be in the open air where I have a good shot of running off quickly, rather than sticking everyone in a hole where they’ll be sitting ducks.) However, no matter what, you still believe in the true power of the city – the ability of individuals working together, long enough and hard enough, to accomplish things that will benefit everyone. You still have hope that even though what you do may seem pointless at the moment, it is still leading to a larger goal. So you decide that you really couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.

Then it hits you. You have now become a Washingtonian.

I Want to Marry Ryan Banks . . .

(No, not really, but that’s the name of the ABC Family movie w/ Jason Priestley that I loved – consider this a shout out to Virginia Gal!)

Last night was the first ESL class of the summer session – we’re only going through the end of July and I only teach once a week, team teaching with another teacher who does Thursday nights. Ten people showed up for my Level two class, for which 15 signed up. They are all new folks – most of my students from the Spring that returned moved up to Level 3, which is awesome! – but it will take a while to get the chemistry going that made last semester so much fun to teach. I always get so nervous before meeting a new group of folks, and last night was no exception. Does that feeling ever go away? I have such a wide range of abilities in my class, I really depend on the students getting along and helping each other to make it a successful session.

I act like such a ham when I am teaching . . . and I’m actually rather shy normally . . . but I figure that people work hard all day, the last thing the want when they come to class for two hours at night is someone that will just stand there and drone on . . . I know that I hate classes like that. I cheer, I clap, I hand out bubble gum, chocolates and lollypops when people try stuff. I act out words. I try to get people laughing, or at least smiling. English isn’t a science, it’s an art, and a lot of pronunciations and spellings are for kind of random reasons. I’m pretty upfront about that. But I do try to answer any and all questions they have about how to pronounce things and why things are the way things are.

So a new session begins and I get to act goofy and try to get people to speak and write better English. My students may think I’m nuts, but I hope they learn at least a little something through my goofiness!

Tuesday Poetry

I haven’t had a poem in a while, and I keep being drawn to city-related scenes – I wonder why that is?

Lower Manhattan Pantoum
Elaine Sexton

Always a bad sign
people on the sidewalk looking up.
A crowd forms, cars slow
then stop,
people on the sidewalk looking up.
I step into the pool of them
then stop.
I gape like the others.

I step into the pool of them,
become the pool
and gape like the others.
Mothers, peddlers, suits
become the pool
of a wreck.
Mothers, peddlers, suits,
my super, my neighbors

a wreck,
unfolding, undone.
My super, my neighbors
no one is not stunned.

Unfolding, undone
we look at our watches,
stunned.
Someone says let's pray.

We examine our watches.
A crowd forms. Cars stop.
Someone says let's pray —
always a bad sign.

I watch so you don't have to . . .

I don’t actually watch any of the normal TV shows that other people watch. I didn’t watch American Idol or Survivor or West Wing or Everybody Loves Raymond. My TV watching tends to the random cable stations like C-SPAN (1, 2 & 3), Style, TCM, VH1, MTV, Comedy Central, HGTV, the Food Network and whatever station is showing some cheesy, uplifting movie that is not date-rape or “my husband cheated/beat me/murdered my friend” related.

But sometimes I come across something when flipping the dial that is so train-wrecky that I cannot resist. Thus my “Apprentice” addiction and now . . . Hit Me Baby One More Time!

I was flipping past Bravo yesterday afternoon, which since NBC bought the station, no longer shows the quirky indie movies that I love to discover, but now shows various lousy reality shows that even NBC won’t show on the network and “West Wing” reruns. . . and the masterpiece that is “Inside the Actors Studio” . . . but that would be a post for another day.

(Also a post for another day is how terrible a lot of my old favorite cable stations are . . . A&E doesn’t even pretend to be classy anymore, Bravo no longer shows anything quirky and decent, TLC now has pretty much nothing educational unless you consider “A Makeover Story” educational, The History Channel shows crappy history . . . even I can find the discrepancies and holes in the narrative, much less my husband who is quite the historian . . . So to all of those who say that Public Television doesn’t need to be around because there are these other channels, I demand that you watch those channels straight for a week and tell me what things of educational value and/or artistic merit you actually saw . . . end of rant)

So, anyway, I hit upon this show, where the premise is they take all of these old artists that had hits 10 years ago or more and have them perform one of their old songs for the audience and then a new song by a current artist, and the audience votes and the best performing artist gets $20K to go to the charity of their choice.

This week’s artists were: Tiffany, Loverboy, Flock of Seagulls, CeCe Penniston and Arrested Development. Curiosity sucked me in, and the show did not disappoint.

The guy from Flock of Seagulls with the hair? He’s bald . . . at least I am pretty sure because he wore a baseball cap with a ponytail which is the longtime symbol for “balding.” Actually, if you look at the old pictures of the band, you can tell he was balding even then because he had this weird comb-over thing happening in the front. The band sounded horrible singing “I Ran” and I can’t remember the second song they sang, but it was lousy too. These guys did not age well.

Loverboy: They were slightly better, but the lead singer now looks exactly like a friend of mine, but with slightly more range of motion than he has. (I couldn't stop giggling.) They didn’t age well either.

Tiffany: Not 15 anymore, so her voice wasn’t quite up to the song she sang when she was a teen. Looked pregnant. Decent voice, though.

CeCe Penniston: Still sounds awesome, but the Faith Hill song she picked for her second song did not match well somehow. I couldn’t decide if she was going too fast, or the band was going too slow. I liked her because my sister and I actually saw her perform at the Taste of DC in ‘95 and her songs were quite the dance floor hits when I actually used to go out – so I have quite fuzzy, happy memories attached to her songs.

Arrested Development: They did that song “Tennessee” from the early ‘90s and had, like 10 people in the group. They were the best ones of the night and the audience could tell. They did a cover of Los Lonely Boys “How Far is Heaven” that was pretty cool . . . made it their own. All of the remaining members can actually still sing. They won the money, which they are donating to UNICEF in Sudan.

. . . Gee, this took a long time to write. It seemed like a good idea when I started! I haven’t written in a while and you can see why . . . I am such a slow typist. I guess no one will hire me for Television Without Pity, since I’m not snarky enough. Oh,well!

If anyone else saw the show (or have other show rant they’d like to share) please do!

"All About Me" Meme

Tagged by Justrose of the Anonymous Rowhouse :-)

1. First name: Kathleen

2. Were you named after anyone? Oddly enough, I was named after Eldridge Cleaver’s wife . . . my dad and his family was pretty hardcore into the movement in the late 60’s/early seventies. My mom approved because it was still a nice, normal Catholic name.

.3. Do you wish on stars? All the time.

4. When did you last cry? Last night, in utter frustration at the juxtaposition of the problems of two friends of mine.

5. Do you like your handwriting? Yes! My mom made me practice my cursive for hours when I was little, so darn right I’m proud of it. But besides me and my mom, everyone else in my family writes in a horrible, unintelligible scrawl, (including my husband.) I think my mom got tired after working so hard on me . . .

6. What is your favorite lunch meat? Ham! Especially with swiss cheese, lettuce tomato and a Dijon mustard on toasted bread.

7. What is your birth date? October 26, 1970

8. What is your most embarrassing moment? I have too many to rank, Although randomly getting my period in the middle of the day my first month in a new school during my Junior year of high school, is pretty well up there.

9. If you were another person, would YOU be friends with yourself? Dear goodness, yes! That would be lovely . . .

[Hey, is this mis-numbered, or am I missing a 10?]

11. Have you ever told a secret you swore not to tell? No.

12. Do looks matter? Yes, at first . . . but sometimes a cool personality and a beautiful heart override average looks.

13. How do you release anger? I fume and pace until I get tired.

14. Where is your second home? I guess Philly in my heart, but if we had to move tomorrow, I think I’d pick Bellingham, Washington or the part of sunny southern California where my husband is from.

15. Do you trust others too easily? Not as much as I used to, but still too much.

16. What was your favorite toy as a child? My stuffed monkey, Leroy, that my Grandpa Henry gave me when I was 3 years old. I still have him, looking rather worse for wear, and I need to get a glass case or something for him. I still miss my Grandpa, who died in 1987, and will treasure that monkey ‘till the day I die.

17. What class in high school do you think was totally useless? Geometry . . . they really need to figure out a better way to teach kids those horrible theorems and proofs . . . I understood proofs a hundred times better when I took a Philosophy class in Logic.

18. Do you have a journal? I have many lovely bound journals that only have a few pages written in each of them.

19. Do you use sarcasm a lot? Yes, but people take me so seriously all the time, the intent gets lost.

20. What is your favorite movie? Singing in the Rain. Every time it is on TMC I HAVE to watch it!

21. What are your nicknames? Kathy, Kath, Kat, Kittykat, Kitty, City Girl.

22. Would you bungee jump? No. With my luck, they’d forget to fasten the rope.

23. Do you untie your shoes when you take them off? No . . . especially not my running shoes, which I curse every time it is time for me to put them on again.

24. Do you think that you are strong? I must be . . . I’m still here.

25. What is your favorite ice cream flavor? Cinnamon.

26. Shoe size? 7.5

27. What are your favorite colors? Depends what for. Chocolate brown, Navy Blue, Burgundy, Royal Purple, Hunter Green, Rich gold, White, Black, Beige. For art, bright colors . . . like Calder, Mondrian or Matisse cut-outs colors.

28. What is your least favorite thing about yourself? My indecision.

29. What do you miss most? The 90's . . . That was a really good decade, in retrospect. I should have traveled much more, especially overseas, while I had the chance to do so when single.

30. Do you want everyone you sent this to, to send it back? But I’m not sending it to anyone . . .

31. What color pants are you wearing? Black. with Black tank top and red 3/4 sleeve shirt. Kinda casual, since we're getting geared up for our annual conference starting on Thursday through Saturday.

32. What are you listening to right now? Liz Phair on the radio.

33. Last thing you ate? I just polished off a chewy granola bar, in my effort to stop eating crap all day at work.

34. If you were a crayon, what color would you be? Burnt Sienna

35. What is the weather like right now? Sunny, hot and humid. Summer has come to DC finally (although I like Spring better).

36. Last person you talked to on the phone? My husband, who called from the store last night to ask if I needed a frozen dinner for tomorrow night, since I’m teaching.

[Missing 37 too . . .]

38. Do you like the person who sent this to you? She’s my oldest friend! (Known her since 5th grade!)

39. How are you today? Strangely upbeat and optimistic. My boss randomly took today off, so there’s no pressure. (Thus I can do this meme.)

40. Favorite Drink? Dr. Pepper with lots of ice.

41. Favorite Sport: To do – Running. To watch: Soccer, especially international soccer in a stadium.

42. Hair Color? Dark Brown

43. Eye Color? Dark Brown

44. Do you wear contacts? Nope, I’m an “old school” eyeglasses chick. Besides, if I tried to put contacts in I would either (a) lose them or (b) poke my eyes out.

45. Favorite Food? Sadly, anything potato-related – mashed potatoes, French fries, potato chips, potato salad.

46. Last Movie You Watched? Do TV Movies Count? I saw Celeste in the City on Saturday . . . two hours of my life I’ll never get back . . . but despite being insultingly stereotypical toward a number of groups, it was still amusing in a cheesy way.

47. Favorite Day of the Year? Any day that I have off and can do anything I want.

48. Scary Movies or Happy Endings? Happy endings! (Thus my enjoyment of Celeste in the City.)

49. Summer or winter? Winter. Love the clothes . . .

50. Hugs or kisses? I’m all about a warm, cuddly hug..

51. What is Your Favorite Dessert? Vanilla ice cream over a warm baked good.

52. Who is Most Likely to Respond? Have no idea . . .

53. Who is Least Likely to Respond? My friend J, since he has no idea I have this blog yet.

54. Where Would You Want to Go on your Next Vacation? On actual vacation? Martha’s Vineyard. Where are we going to go? The K & K 2 week West Coast Tour to visit family in California, Oregon and Washington.

I hereby pass this meme on to whoever feels like doing it. :-)

Holiday review

Was sick over the three day weekend with a horrible cold . . . still struggling with it a bit today. The weekend was not terribly restful . . . and maybe it should have been.

I have this horrible habit of filling up every free weekend with some sort of activities that I can’t do during the week. Let’s help C find a new apartment on Saturday! Let’s go visit my parents on Sunday! Let’s invite people over for dinner Monday night! Since people are coming over, let’s finally get curtains for the living room! Now we have to rearrange the furniture in the bedroom. And we have to rearrange stuff in the kitchen.

Yes, we did all of the above, except visit my parents, because I just felt horrible on Sunday and did not feel like being around a crowd. Every year, some of our family in Philly come down to visit my parents and I was not up to making small talk. Yesterday, my husband and I were running around like fiends trying to tidy up the house for dinner, and I was trying to play Martha Stewart in making a rather gourmet dinner, using the stuff I learned in my cooking class.

The weekends are the only time there is to see people. Everyone is so busy that weeknights are out for hanging out, and people plan out their weekends well in advance, so you have to try to get on the schedule early. We hadn’t seen this particular couple since a Super Bowl party in January, and they had invited us over to dinner several times, and I felt like it was time for us to reciprocate. They hadn’t seen our new condo yet either, thus the mad rush to make everything look respectable.

I never felt like my mom so much as I did yesterday. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror as I was cleaning the bathroom and my mom’s face peeked out. I was even dressed like her – jeans, t-shirt and old oxford shirt with sleeves rolled-up. I remembered growing up seeing her running around cleaning up for company coming soon, her worrying about food and how the house looked – since, like me, she hated housework and its many forms, but is keen to have the house look spotless on the rare occasion that outsiders pop in to the inner sanctum.

Dinner went well, if slightly awkward . . . I never know if I am doing the entertaining thing right, am lousy at the transitions from appetizers to going to the table to dessert. I think I try too hard . . . I have an idea in my head on how things should go, and when they don’t go that way I get so flustered. I know that these friends would not have cared if I had made hot dogs and beans, or ordered in pizza, but I did want to show that I thought them worthy of effort . . . they’ve been such great friends to us over the years, I did not want to do things halfway. They seemed to enjoy everything, though . . .

Sorry for not posting in a while, guys! Hope everyone else had a great holiday.

Poem for Thursday

Today was just gorgeous . . . and yet I was stuck inside. Today’s poem was too beautiful to pass up . . .

Solstice: voyeur
Bill Hicok

I watched the young couple walk into the tall grass and close
the door of summer behind them, their heads floating
on the golden tips, on waves that flock and break like starlings
changing their minds in the middle of changing their minds,
I saw their hips lay down inside those birds, inside the day
of shy midnight, they kissed like waterfalls, like stones
that have traveled a million years to touch, and emerged
hybrid, some of her lips in his words, all of his fists
opened by trust like morning glories, and I smelled green
pouring out of trees into grass, grass into below, I stood
on the moment the earth changes its mind about the sun,
when hiding begins, and raised my hand from the hill
into the shadows behind the lovers, and contemplated
their going with my skin, and listened to the grass
in wind call us home like our mothers before dark.

All About the Cereal

Sorry that I haven't posted in a while . . . but to tide you over, here is something that I found while cruising the Blogosphere. Enjoy!

Cereal Meme

When do you eat it? And how often?

I usually eat cereal first thing in the morning. If we have a fun type cereal, I might put it in a baggie as a snack for later in the day.

What are your favorite cereals?

Honey Nut Chex, Raisin Bran, Froot Loops, Trix, Apple Jacks, Rice Crispies, Oatmeal? (does Oatmeal count?)

What kind will you not eat?

Cheerios, Cream of Wheat, anything resembling shredded wheat. My dad would buy Cheerios by the metric ton. He wouldn’t buy anything else. I hate Cheerios with a passion – just the smell of them makes me want to throw up!

What is the secret favorite that you don’t always admit?

Do grits count?

What liquid do you pour on your cereal?

Vanilla soy milk. (I’m a bit lactose intolerant)

What do you put on top of your cereal?

Nothing but milk . . . I only like crunchy in cereal, I hate soggy cereal.

Do you prefer cereal or other foods for breakfast?

I’d rather have some fruit salad, yogurt and some protein on the side, like bacon, ham or sausage.

Do you have any cereal related rituals or other oddities?

I only like a splash of milk on my cereal . . . like I said before, I hate soggy cereal. I like just enough milk to say that there’s milk in there and get things a little wet, but no more.

I hereby pass this meme on to anyone who reads this! Happy answering!

Weekend with an Artist

What a beautiful weekend! Not too hot, sunny and breezy, beautiful weather for an Arts Festival. I only get out to Reston once a year, just for this festival, since I have no other earthly reason to go out there. In the one year since I have had last visited the Reston Town Center area, they have thrown up about 8 different condo developments . . . how could they build so much in such a short span of time? I hardly recognized the place!

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I found out about this festival as sort of a fluke about . . . my goodness! . . . 11 years ago now. I used to get the local DC volunteer organization newsletter, where they used to list all of the volunteer opportunities in the area. I noticed an ad where they needed volunteers to work this particular festival that for a weekend, and not having anything better to do, but always wanting to learn more about the arts, I jumped at the chance. My job for the weekend was to pass out Festival programs to people for a 3 hour shift, after the shift you could go on and do whatever. I hadn’t gotten involved in politics yet, so I had not many friends and ample free time at that point. So after I did my shift that Saturday, I stuck around and help out with “Artist relations.” See, at this festival, each artist had their own booth where they hung up or showcased their works. They sat in tall directors chairs in front of each booth of monitored what was going on in their booth, answering questions and occasionally making sales. “Artist Relations” volunteers, would help out the artists by getting them stuff to eat and drink and occasionally sitting at the booth while the artist went to the bathroom.

So that is how I became friends with this one artist guy who does amazing abstract oil paintings . . . over the rest of Saturday and Sunday, I helped out at his booth, among many others. He was as old as my dad, so there was no crush-type thing going on . . . but he was quite a sweetie. The next year, I volunteered at the festival again and I was surprised that he remembered me. His work was starting to evolve a bit and I was curious what was going on. The next year, he didn’t come to Reston, but did another local festival and this time I actually bought a painting from him. Since he knew me and my poverty, he let me pay for it in many little installments. So, over the course of the past 11 years, we recognize each other and have a weird little back history going on but only meet up once a year to say hi, and check in on what’s happened in the past year. I introduced him to my husband to be, he talked about his daughters in school, then college. We talk about all of the development around here (he lives outside of Richmond) and how his paintings have been selling.

Sometimes, chance meetings lead to such interesting things. I can say I actually know a real artist and own a couple of his paintings. I also have a little more insight into how artists make money and manage to feed their families. (His wife is also an artist and an art teacher.) And now I go to more arts festivals, and have been exposed to more things and am not afraid to ask questions about someone’s work. You never know what opportunities answering a random ad may bring.

Call Me . . . Befuddled

I’ve had a very confusing and frustrating day. I haven’t quite processed it enough to rant about it yet . . . but it was very unsettling.

Good news though! I did pick up my negatives from the photo place and I did see a few sweet shots that I’d like to try to print once we reach that part of my photo class. Last night we went over shutter speeds, f-stops, metering and – where I meet my Waterloo – depth of field. I understand the concept emotionally – I can do it without thinking, just by looking through the viewfinder and adjusting the stops to what I want to capture, but in order to trouble shoot what has gone wrong with a shot, you have to understand which stops do what – and the way you figure it out is quite counter-intuitive and drives me bats.

Increased depth of field (Sharp foreground and background) means . . . smaller aperture, which means a larger f-stop? What???? Decreased depth of field (more blurry background) means . . . larger aperture, which means a smaller f-stop? Huh???? If anyone has an easy way to remember this, feel free to share, otherwise I do have some research to do this weekend I see . . .

What’s up on the schedule this weekend? Saturday: Running (me), soccer game (husband), Reston Fine Arts Festival (both). Sunday: Choir practice (me), Church (both), baby shower (maybe both of us), soccer game (maybe husband, if don’t go to baby shower).

To end, let me throw out a little Dorothy Parker to lighten up this dreary Friday:

One Perfect Rose

A single flow'r he sent me, since we met.
All tenderly his messenger he chose;
Deep-hearted, pure, with scented dew still wet-
One perfect rose.

I knew the language of the floweret;
"My fragile leaves," it said, "his heart enclose."
Love long has taken for his amulet
One perfect rose.

Why is it no one ever sent me yet
One perfect limousine, do you suppose?
Ah no, it's always just my luck to get
One perfect rose.

A Non-Dedicated Follower of Fashion

On Saturday, after lunch on the Terrace, I went to Target to do some much needed summer clothes shopping.

I hate shopping generally. Well, usually it is because I normally don’t have any money for clothes, so when I do see something I like it is usually much too expensive. But usually I can’t find anything I like when I need it. I tend towards classic clothes, simple tailored cuts . . . more Donna Karan, Ann Taylor and Jones New York-type than Betsy Johnson, Limited, Express or anything my 21 year old sister would wear. I can’t afford those, but you get the gist. I’ve kinda always been that way . . . if I could have worn nice tailored pant suits when I was 12, I would have. Not Talbot’s though . . . I’m not THAT matronly yet – I refuse. I’m also not WASP-y – no Izod or Ralph Lauren for me. So hip and fashionable are not the first words that fall from one’s lips when they meet me.

I also hate crowds. If I could, I would shop Tuesday afternoons, when hardly anyone else is around. I especially hate all of the people sneezing, coughing and whatevering without covering their mouth. I hate putting my hand on the escalator and feeling something wet and/or sticky. Eeeeeew! I carry a bottle of hand sanitizer at all times, just to be semi-safe.

I hate standing in line. I just want to grab what I need and get the heck out of there. I’m somewhat guy-like in that sense . . .

Anyway, given my hatred of clothes shopping, I do it rather infrequently. Which means that I tend to wear the clothes that I do own to shreds. Until they look less than respectable, then I will break down and try to replace the worn item almost exactly. Woe is me if the store went out of business in the interim.

However, since I started running, I guess my body self-image is improving. Not that I may actually be losing weight, but I’m starting to feel comfortable enough to want to join the 21st century and get some capris, sleeveless tops, sandals . . . something other than my usual summer uniform of T-shirts and jeans. That, and a few sundresses, makes up my entire summer casual wardrobe. I want to branch out . . . maybe get some funky colors too! “The Look for Less” on the Style network is rapidly becoming one of my favorite shows . . .

So, off to Target I go. However, one rule for whatever I buy is that it has to mix and match well with things I already own. And be decent quality, but relatively cheap. Here is what I got on Saturday - for less than $100 yet!

1 pair white cropped pants
1 pair black cropped pants
2 camisole tops (1 black, 1 yellow)
2 tank tops (1 turquoise-y green, 1 black)
1 sleeveless, collared white button-down shirt
1 three-quarter-sleeved green and white striped, collared button-down shirt (same green as the tank top)

I am sooo happy with my purchases! I just need a few more colorful shirts and some accompanying sandals and I will be set for the summer. I figure that for footwear I just need 1 pair of comfy, but dressy sandals and 1 pair of comfy walking sandals, probably in black – no thong toes, though . . . I hate the feeling of things in between my toes. Maybe a pair of old school type Keds. I’ve been wearing the tanks this week under my jackets and I adore them, they go with things so well.

It’s been really hard finding casual sundresses that I like – I may have to go to thrift stores for those. I’m not into the asymmetrical cuts and thinner, frothy materials that I seem to see a lot. I want something that I can dress up to look nice for church, but that I can also flop around the house in, if need be. If anyone has any recommendations, I’m open.

Thus begins my foray into becoming more fashionable. It’s sad, but I’m really excited! I may be getting more girly yet!

My Boring Status Report

The meeting this morning went well despite the fact that my boss showed up late, looking like he just rolled out of bed and threw on a suit. In fact, when the meeting was over, one of the participants walked up to him and said, “Hey, did you just wake up?”

Get to go back on the Hill for an event next week. Yay! Anything that gets me out of the office and networking is good. Today’s event was children’s issues related, which is not my area so I was there mostly to listen, but next week’s relates to Older Adult issues, which I am extremely interested in.

I was not impressed with Saturday’s lunch at the Hotel Washington Terrace. Quite the overpriced sandwiches, burgers and appetizers there. The place was packed with tourists and folks in town for all of the college graduations that morning. I hate places like that . . . I rather prefer hole in the wall type places – tourist places are always so overpriced and the food isn’t good enough to back up the reputation. However, I will say that the view is quite lovely . . . if you’ve never seen it before. You can see ALL of the monuments and the White House from the restaurant. I’m just jaded, I guess. I’m sure the view is even cooler at night, with all of the lights.

Sunday was uneventful and I got no knitting done. I was just too tired and I watched lots of lousy Lifetime movies and read the newspapers.

Monday, I had a lunch with an old friend of mine, who blew into town last minute. He and his wife are expecting a little girl in September. If you knew this guy, you would know what how richly funny that is . . . in his single days, he was the biggest horn-dog you ever would meet. “Are you going to keep her locked up until college?” I asked, ever so sweetly . . . I am gloriously happy for them, and hopefully when my husband and I go out to the West coast this summer, we will get to visit them for a couple of hours.

The volunteer ESL teachers’ meeting went well last night. They might be breaking us up into 2 ESL classes, instead of 3 for the summer session, which will make teaching even more interesting. I am afraid to get total beginners, (I’ve taught only intermediate for the past year), but I am sure I will muddle my way through. I can’t wait for classes to start!

Tomorrow night is my photography class and luckily I already have most of the supplies on hand, so I don’t have to cough up more money for film or printing paper. We won’t be developing our own negatives though, which is a bummer. That means we have to take them to a specialty shop and get them developed, which is $7.50 a pop. It’s $5 extra for contact sheets, but I think I can get by without them, and make my own on in print lab. The really lousy thing is that the shop is only open 9-5 M-F, which means that unless I can make my way there on my lunch hour, I won’t have any negatives.

I’m so tired today . . . had to get up way early to get things ready for the meeting. Will try to write something more interesting tomorrow!

How's it going?

Wow! Today has just flown by and I haven’t done a proper post in days. How’s everyone doing? Enjoying the lovely spring weather?

I’ll be on the Hill for a meeting in the morning, but I’ll try to get something up by end of the day tomorrow.

Right this second on the radio, U2’s Stuck in the Moment is playing . . . boy, every time I hear that song, it just strikes so close to home . . .

In the meantime, I found this poem on “Poetry Daily” about a local DC housing complex that felt kind of powerful to me today.

Sursum Corda
By Hillel Schwartz

. . a housing development in Northwest Washington, DC

The hart leaps.

Through the bracken of Children's Island, its sedge and mallow,
through the brush and tangle of Stadium Narrows,
the hart leaps.

Past the Canada geese gulls starlings sparrows & crows,
past flea market flannels cottons linens corduroys,
blooms of rust curling over cast-iron stump-legged stoves,
teflon peeling off bundt pans frying pans & bake trays,
the hart leaps.

Across grooved tailgates of pick-ups & second-life trucks
& white scoop-lipped concrete deadweights of a Grand Prix track
that roared once into the records & now sits silent,
skirting winter-bald grass & a golf club's loopy fence,
indefensible, uphill on icebroken pavement
& a bookhouse for bombed-out Beirut, past 19th &
M where a five-inch blade five times five days ago was
driven into a delivery man in busy
daylight, the hart leaps.

Into seven-square square blocks of gridded deerpark moor,
of hunting, coney-poaching, Crown lands & highwaymen,
a wilderness for the staking and taking, neither
National Arboretum nor oaks of Dumbarton
but Sursum Corda, that they shall be lifted up, here
in Jubal, glory & comfort, where more are fallen
& dead more quickly than stroke, than shock, in this red square
& plaza of promises, catholic talisman
of fair winds & crossings for a Northwest Passage, for
a land of lows, storm fronts, mortuary cold, a land
of the could-have-been, streets earstruck with seven-on-four
beats of blood in the hot walls of ears, blood like lichen
on stubble of old sidewalk & cyclone fence under
tundra skies of lost dominion, lost direction
from courtyard to courtyard, gravel to cement, through beer-
bottle grass to Coke-green glass to yellow-white to brown
to blue, the hart leaps.

Greatgrandmas look through torn curtains to see him rampant,
tearing through bushes, his horns flashing with raw bonelight,
an emergency of wonder, brown-red, ambulant,
their heraldic stag of tincture sanguine & fur bright
with sweat & flecks of foil. Now the children chase after,
fingers flared from their heads like horns, prancing in his wake,
or fists to their mouths for the loud brass of hunting horns,
dashing in greyhound frenzy & whippet crazy-eights.
What's happening here? Who is running the tapestry
through the looms, the stag around the tight bends & charges
of the NW, over fine dust, spent shells, & dark green
mazes with ancient etched numbers & flowered marges?
What game is afoot? In their black-&-whites the Finest
hear the sightings crackle in over their speakers, call
for soft-poison darts, doctors, game wardens, riot vests,
revving their engines for what may come down after all
to high-speed pursuit, wrong-ways on one-way avenues,
dashes over medians & dividers. Copters
are circling now, networks covering this breaking news
as his hooves strike blue fires across the faulted curbs
of the Project, his horns lit by flashes & first hints
of sunset, his head twisting in a mounting panic,
his sense of true north lost among the bands of children,
the rush of rotors, district captains hustling manic
in their blinds, lips to bullhorns, blue flash red flash white flash,
lost among the pounding bass of boom-car double amps,
out of sight of tall trees, beyond salt lick or high grass,
he stops, breathing harder than first thunder, & stamps. Stamps.
The whippet-children stand stockstill, wary as old hounds.
Dealers drop their seal-tite bags. Traffic slows to a cough.
Copters hover in five o'clock suspense. . . . Bring him down,
hears a crouching man through an earpiece small as what's left
of shooting & stars once they fall to earth, & the heart
leaps.