I have some new pictures of my cutie of a nephew to share! Apparently, this is him in his "fish gym," and he loves to kick the ball with his feet and look at the fish overhead. (He does look like he's having a good time, doesn't he??)
Lookie -- in the sidebar, there is a direct link to my Flickr account (where all my pictures are). I remember a while back you asked about how you could get to my online photo album. So if you can't find a picture you're looking for in my Vox photo album (in the right sidebar), you can go to my albums in Flickr (link in left sidebar).
Tah-dah! It's all there!
Love you!
xoxo
Erin
This question was asked of me a couple days ago, and interestingly ... it's lingered in my mind for a while now. At the time, I believe I shrugged and made a vague gesture with my hand. (Haha) Even pondering this more, my answer to the question hasn't changed: I don't know.
Living up here is like so many things I've encountered in life. It feels like it just happened yesterday and an eternity ago at the same time. In some moments, I feel that lost disconnect reminiscent of my first few weeks here. Others, I look around with a peaceful sense of "this is home."
You know how small things -- like a scent or a song -- can trigger a memory and the flood of emotions that accompanies it. Well. I recently heard my "DC" song. A year ago (sigh) when I flew up to DC to interview with Edelman, there was a particular song that was in saturation-mode on the radio. They played it all the time. And now, it's that song that I associate with all the emotions of that time. That spring was my last in college. I was traveling around the country -- several trips in a matter of months -- some for pleasure, some for business. That nervous excitement, the exhilarating sense that this was "it" and I'd finally be moving off on my own, something I'd always wanted to do but never quite seemed possible, and the awesome disbelief that I was finding people quite enthusiastic to offer me work -- it's hard to forget.
But I think what's more powerful is to remember how far I've come since then. Since interviewing with and accepting the offer from Edelman -- which I consider the starting point in all this -- I've done a good bit. On a whim, I acquired my passport and promptly went to Australia for a week. By myself. My first trip out of the country. Shortly after that, I made the official move up to DC. From this experience, during which the movers managed to break almost everything -- including my piano -- I gleaned many lessons. Many. Too many to list. And then the real adventure began: living here.
I've discovered I am not a picky eater, as I thought I was for my entire life. I love everything: Chinese, Indian, Vietnamese, Greek. I like fish (who knew!), and hummus and tzatziki. I can eat with chopsticks now (even noodles).
I now know which neighborhood is which, and can associate the appropriate personalities with areas such as Adams Morgan -- and I know why Sydney Ellen Wade, in the movie The American President, hated to drive through Dupont Circle. And I understand how exactly Rosslyn, Court House, Clarendon, etc. all mesh to make up Arlington.
I've found favorite restaurants and preferred happy hour spots. And OH MY GOODNESS ... I've discovered Five Guys.
I have so much left to experience here, and I'm well aware of that. But a year ago, I couldn't have imagined that I could sit here and mentally tick off all these random things.
So many people come and go in this city. As a whole, this area has an essence of being very temporary, as if people are only here as a brief pause on their way to greatness. I'm already beginning to lose friends to this typical cycle.
So I guess, to the question of how long I plan to be here ... I still have no idea. But I do recognize that I'm not just here for a season or two. I'm making this home.
I brought a piano up here, for crying out loud! (Ha!)
It's the weekend. And that means ... it's baking time!!!
At the moment, I have a batch of choco-scotch cookies in the oven. And the bowl of batter sitting here next to me on the couch. (Tee hee.)
I still have all the ingredients to make pumpkin muffins, which I haven't made in a while. Hmm ... to make those this weekend, or to wait ... hmm ... I think I'll wait.
At any rate, back to the cookies. These are my favorite to make for a number of reasons. Probably the most significant reason: the process of making them -- the evolution of the aroma that fills the kitchen from when the first ingredient goes into the bowl to when the delicious goodies are cooling on the counter -- brings back memories of making them at home with my family.
P.S. I mastered how to crack an egg with one hand today. Woo!
Is it "string" or "stream"? "Stream," right? Stream of consciousness? Who knows. For me, for the meaning I'm trying to convey, I like the word "string" better. Yeah. String.
I hurt my ankle. Don't have the foggiest idea how. But this sucker hurts more than anything I've dealt with in a while. NOT COOL. Especially when 1) I don't have any ace bandages around, 2) I don't have a doctor for this sort of thing up here yet, and 3) I don't have time to find or go to a doctor anyway. Luckily, we have a friend who is a physical therapist, so he did his best to diagnose me over the phone. Funny thing is, I actually trust his long-distance diagnosis more than I would that of some random doctor I could go see up here. So. I'm icing it for 20 minutes multiple times a day, in conjunction with a simple ankle exercise. No worries. If I still can't walk on it well in a couple days, then we can be worried.
I swear I had more to add to this random STRING of consciousness ... but it seems to have slipped away. Maybe downstream somewhere. Haha ... when I start cracking jokes that bad ... it's time to call it a night ...
That linen ... just will not have it. It insists that you walk -- nay, stroll -- and will settle for nothing less. Well. Or so I discovered this evening, as I was walking -- sorry -- strolling home from work.
I was a lovely evening. Plenty of clouds in the sky, which makes for a nice sunset. Warm, but not hot. And a breeze, naturally. I do think it's the breeze that did it. It whipped through the skirt, which hits just below my knee, with a gentle sensation that instantly put me at ease, solicited a slow, deep breath, and immediately slowed my step.
We went out in Dupont after work on Friday. We had one plan, initially: dinner, home to freshen up and get gorgeous, then out to Be Bar. But ... as things go ... the night didn't turn out that way. (Thanks for being such a good sport, Steve!)
We headed to dinner after work, having to opt for our second choice (Luna Grill and Diner) due to the Friday night dinner crowds. I was quite delighted with the situation, though. Luna was great! I had a sour apple pucker martini (who doesn't like a tasty martini?), the baked ziti for dinner (with large slices of fresh mozzarella -- YUM), and a slice of the layered chocolate cake for dessert (it'd been a long week -- I earned it!). So yeah. Dinner was great.
Then we headed to the nearby Front Page. Somewhat uneventful at Front Page. Had a few drinks. Met up briefly with my friend Raj, who was playing pool downstairs. Oh, and our crew was rocking out with our own little dance party in the corner. Heh. I'm sure we were a source of amusement (or confusion) for everyone else in the bar. Shmay. It was fun.
And THEN ... we headed over to Cafe Citron, which is known for its salsa dancing!! I really was "nheh" about going, because I was NOT dressed for dancing. I was still wearing what I wore to work: jeans, black work heels and a purple sweater. Ish. But we went. Hahaha ...
It was a good time. I'll leave it at that. I have to go back.
Isn't he handsome? Look at that smile!!!
I adore this kid!
Yep. That's how I roll.
A friend pointed me to a funny article in the NYTimes title "It's Not You, It's Your Apartment." The article explains several place-of-dwelling-related faux pas that typically result in relationship termination.
In the end, though, the author concludes, "So there it is — if your date doesn’t get your rabbit or your seal or your light bulb, he or she is not the person for you."
So yeah! If you don't "get" my teddy bear or my strategically placed piles of clothes and other clutter that tend to accumulate when I'm really busy ... you're not the one for me. (Hmph!)
;-)
