I stayed home from work today because I've been feeling pretty bad. I thought I had an ear infection, but after a visit to an ENT, I learned that I have a form of vertigo. I was given a prescription for Antivert, and a list of exercises to do.
After the appointment, Curtis and I went next door for lunch.
While we were eating, it started to snow, so we hurried up and left for our home, which was 6 miles away. That was at 4:30 or so.
At 8:35, I realized we were getting nowhere, so we parked in a parking lot and walked the last 1.3 miles in a foot of snow. We walked through our front door at 9:15.
The DC metro area is in total gridlock.
I also was overjoyed to find a letter from United telling me that they would not be reimbursing me for the bag that they, or the Columbia Metropolitan Airport, lost or stole or caused to be stolen in November.
This was not the best day I've had.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Monday, January 17, 2011
A busy weekend, part 2
After fun with beer tasting on Friday, Curtis and I drove to Catonsville, Maryland, to visit our fellow ex-South Carolinians, Mich and Eric. It was really good--and somewhat disorienting--to see people we knew from our other life. It served to increase my idea that I'm just on vacation, and will be returning to Columbia in a week or so.
We traveled up 66, then 495, then 95, then 695 to meet Mich and Eric at their new house, which is absolutely adorable. I have total house envy. I like our townhouse fine; it's in good shape, it has a lot of room, it has a huge amount of closet space . . . but I'm not crazy about it. It just doesn't have any character. But M&E's house? Character out the yang. It's a free-standing house, for one thing, which I really like; and, for another, it has beautiful hardwood floors, pretty bathrooms, great kitchen, and so many interesting architectural details. I would love to live in a neighborhood like this, and it was interesting to see; I'd really been under the impression that all the areas up here are on the cookie-cutter side. However, Catonsville is an hour from our house. I'll come back to this subject later; for now, our trip.
From Catonsville, we headed to Ellicott City, which is extremely close by. Catonsville alone was adorable, with charming little buildings and businesses, but I was wholly unprepared for Ellicott City. It was literally like something out of a dream.
It is weirdly reminiscent of Welch, West Virginia; maybe even more so Kimball or Keystone or Northfork. Driving there, I commented to Curtis that it looked like the road between Bluefield and Welch, Route 52. As soon as we saw Ellicott City's downtown, I gasped; it really did look exactly like Welch: steep, bare mountainsides, houses crawling up the rock faces, houses clinging to the edges of the cliffs, businesses pressed close against the streets, apartments above the businesses.
The similarities, however, did not extend themselves to the financial success that Ellicott City appears to be enjoying; whereas Welch has been dying a slow, painful death since the 80s, maybe even the 70s, Ellicott City is thriving--a charming, touristy mountain town. It makes me sad to think about where my hometown, and its nearby towns, is headed, and I wonder if there's anything to be done. I heard, once, that the success of America was built on the back of Appalachia, leaving the state and its citizens with very little capital in return.
But that's another blog, for another day.
Curtis, Mich, Eric, and I made our way down the steep sidewalk, wandering in and out of wine shops, antique stores, furniture stores, and a truly inspiring vintage clothing store. We debated restaurants for a while before deciding on Cacao Lane. While they screwed up Mich's bacon, and our waitress seemed less than interested in serving us, everything else was fantastic. Curtis got a roast beef sandwich; Eric had a portobello sandwich; and I had quiche. Mich stuck with water, but Curtis had his standby, Sierra Nevada, and Eric and I split a bottle of pinot grigio. And Mich and Eric very kindly treated us, which we greatly appreciated.
Afterward, I pondered checking out a tea room, Tea on the Tiber, but decided to head to the Pure Wine Cafe instead. We each had a glass of wine, then headed back to Mich & Eric's for a fudge tasting. The fudge came from a really interesting store: Southwest Connection & Silver Arrow Fudge. Where else can you get dreamcatchers and fudge all at the same place?
We sampled five different kinds: chocolate, peanut butter, chocolate explosion (which was chocolate fudge with three kinds of nuts), tiger fudge (which was vanilla fudge with stripes of chocolate and peanut butter), and cappuccino. The chocolate explosion was my least favorite, mostly because I just don't like nuts. The chocolate was delicious, and always an excellent standby. But the surprise winner for me that day was the tiger fudge; really quite tasty.
Attending us at our tasting that day was Mich and Eric's sweet baby pit bull Roxie, who stared mournfully at us while we tortured her with our delicious fudge.
We hugged goodbye, and as we got in the car, I was handed an extra treat: a man was out walking his pomeranian, who was a sweet fluffy blond baby who looked at me excitedly as we got into the car. Had I had my wits about me, I would have had Curtis knock said man out while I tossed our new pet into the car, but that idea didn't occur to me until we were already in the car and they'd gotten away.
We came home that night and passed out, as apparently a major ingredient in the fudge is Nyquil.
As I said before, though, there's a subject that I've been pondering, that was driven home especially hard when we visited Mich and Eric. It's something I've thought about since we first learned we'd be moving here: where to live. The potential commute. Areas. I was spoiled by the ability to drive about 7 minutes each way for my job in Columbia. The longest commute I had was about 20 minutes, from Broad River Rd. to Middleburg Office Park, off of Forest Dr. Now I drive about 15 minutes each way to George Mason, and I know how very lucky I am.
But I know for a fact we won't live in this townhouse forever; like I said, it's fine. There's nothing wrong with it. But it's not where I want to live while we're here. We're going to start looking for a house somewhere around August or September, and until then, we're going to be looking at neighborhoods and thinking very seriously about where we'd like to be, and what we're willing to put up with re: commutes and re: mortgage.
Well, enough about real estate and driving about for now; in my next installment, we'll be meeting Sherri and Julie in yet another newly visited area.
We traveled up 66, then 495, then 95, then 695 to meet Mich and Eric at their new house, which is absolutely adorable. I have total house envy. I like our townhouse fine; it's in good shape, it has a lot of room, it has a huge amount of closet space . . . but I'm not crazy about it. It just doesn't have any character. But M&E's house? Character out the yang. It's a free-standing house, for one thing, which I really like; and, for another, it has beautiful hardwood floors, pretty bathrooms, great kitchen, and so many interesting architectural details. I would love to live in a neighborhood like this, and it was interesting to see; I'd really been under the impression that all the areas up here are on the cookie-cutter side. However, Catonsville is an hour from our house. I'll come back to this subject later; for now, our trip.
From Catonsville, we headed to Ellicott City, which is extremely close by. Catonsville alone was adorable, with charming little buildings and businesses, but I was wholly unprepared for Ellicott City. It was literally like something out of a dream.
It is weirdly reminiscent of Welch, West Virginia; maybe even more so Kimball or Keystone or Northfork. Driving there, I commented to Curtis that it looked like the road between Bluefield and Welch, Route 52. As soon as we saw Ellicott City's downtown, I gasped; it really did look exactly like Welch: steep, bare mountainsides, houses crawling up the rock faces, houses clinging to the edges of the cliffs, businesses pressed close against the streets, apartments above the businesses.
The similarities, however, did not extend themselves to the financial success that Ellicott City appears to be enjoying; whereas Welch has been dying a slow, painful death since the 80s, maybe even the 70s, Ellicott City is thriving--a charming, touristy mountain town. It makes me sad to think about where my hometown, and its nearby towns, is headed, and I wonder if there's anything to be done. I heard, once, that the success of America was built on the back of Appalachia, leaving the state and its citizens with very little capital in return.
But that's another blog, for another day.
Curtis, Mich, Eric, and I made our way down the steep sidewalk, wandering in and out of wine shops, antique stores, furniture stores, and a truly inspiring vintage clothing store. We debated restaurants for a while before deciding on Cacao Lane. While they screwed up Mich's bacon, and our waitress seemed less than interested in serving us, everything else was fantastic. Curtis got a roast beef sandwich; Eric had a portobello sandwich; and I had quiche. Mich stuck with water, but Curtis had his standby, Sierra Nevada, and Eric and I split a bottle of pinot grigio. And Mich and Eric very kindly treated us, which we greatly appreciated.
Afterward, I pondered checking out a tea room, Tea on the Tiber, but decided to head to the Pure Wine Cafe instead. We each had a glass of wine, then headed back to Mich & Eric's for a fudge tasting. The fudge came from a really interesting store: Southwest Connection & Silver Arrow Fudge. Where else can you get dreamcatchers and fudge all at the same place?
We sampled five different kinds: chocolate, peanut butter, chocolate explosion (which was chocolate fudge with three kinds of nuts), tiger fudge (which was vanilla fudge with stripes of chocolate and peanut butter), and cappuccino. The chocolate explosion was my least favorite, mostly because I just don't like nuts. The chocolate was delicious, and always an excellent standby. But the surprise winner for me that day was the tiger fudge; really quite tasty.
Attending us at our tasting that day was Mich and Eric's sweet baby pit bull Roxie, who stared mournfully at us while we tortured her with our delicious fudge.
We hugged goodbye, and as we got in the car, I was handed an extra treat: a man was out walking his pomeranian, who was a sweet fluffy blond baby who looked at me excitedly as we got into the car. Had I had my wits about me, I would have had Curtis knock said man out while I tossed our new pet into the car, but that idea didn't occur to me until we were already in the car and they'd gotten away.
We came home that night and passed out, as apparently a major ingredient in the fudge is Nyquil.
As I said before, though, there's a subject that I've been pondering, that was driven home especially hard when we visited Mich and Eric. It's something I've thought about since we first learned we'd be moving here: where to live. The potential commute. Areas. I was spoiled by the ability to drive about 7 minutes each way for my job in Columbia. The longest commute I had was about 20 minutes, from Broad River Rd. to Middleburg Office Park, off of Forest Dr. Now I drive about 15 minutes each way to George Mason, and I know how very lucky I am.
But I know for a fact we won't live in this townhouse forever; like I said, it's fine. There's nothing wrong with it. But it's not where I want to live while we're here. We're going to start looking for a house somewhere around August or September, and until then, we're going to be looking at neighborhoods and thinking very seriously about where we'd like to be, and what we're willing to put up with re: commutes and re: mortgage.
Well, enough about real estate and driving about for now; in my next installment, we'll be meeting Sherri and Julie in yet another newly visited area.
Sunday, January 16, 2011
A busy weekend, part 1
Part of our new life in the DC Metro area has involved finding our way around, getting oriented to the area, discovering new and interesting things to do, and, not least of all, seeing friends.
We combined all of those things this past weekend.
On Friday, we went to Ashburn, Virginia, to visit our friend Mike. He was hosting a beer tasting, as he and his circle of beer aficionado friends do every month, and the husband I were lucky enough to be invited. Curtis is much more knowledgeable on the beer topic than I am, and he's definitely more of a beer enthusiast than I, but I always like a chance to a) see people I know and like; b) meet new people; c) see new parts of the world; and d) drink alcohol.
Mike had told us that Ashburn was "out in the country," but I had trouble envisioning it. I came up here with the idea that Northern Virginia was just one big parking lot linking an endless string of strip malls, and while our area does have its fair share of pavement and the aforementioned linked stores and restaurants, I'm pleasantly surprised to find trees, forests, and parks. And, as Mike promised, there was, indeed, country all over his neighborhood. The drive there was a two-lane road sandwiched between farmland, and it was extremely reminiscent of the Virginia near where I grew up, Tazewell County, and the Virginia of my undergraduate years, Blacksburg and greater Montgomery County.
On the way there, we saw the charming Evergreen Market. It was one of those rickety old markets made of cinderblocks, the kind you see mouldering on back roads, about to be torn down, until someone comes along and rehabs it. Kudos to the Evergreen Market folks; if we didn't live so far from you, we'd shop there.
We met two of Mike's friends, Tony and Trisha, who are fellow West Virginians, and that was interesting; of the five people there that night, four were from WV, and I can't remember the last time that has happened outside of family reunions. After 13 years in South Carolina, I became accustomed to seeing no West Virginians, ever.
Mike had made a really delicious chicken chili, and I tried Frito Pie for the first time. Only last week I ate Chili Mac for the first time, from Hard Times Cafe, here in Fairfax. I can't remember who told me about Chili Mac, but it sounded vile the first time I heard of it: spaghetti with chili on it? Oh, HORK. But I tried it at Hard Times, with their Terlingua chili (they have 4 different kinds, including a vegetarian version), and found it unexpectedly delicious. So, armed with my new knowledge of Chili Mac, I felt comfortable branching out to Frito Pie, which is, for those who don't know: Fritos topped with chili. It was good, and a good experience, but next time I'll eat the chili by itself.
We tried 6 different Imperial Stouts that evening, one of which tasted exactly like chocolate Tootsie Roll Pops. There was another I drank right afterward, which was literally tasteless in the beginning, but after it had neared room temperature, was quite flavorful. Sadly, I do not remember the names of these. I will have to ask Mike.
We also had Sierra Nevada's 30th Anniversary Imperial Stout, easily my favorite. Curtis is a fan of all things Sierra Nevada, and this particular gem did not disappoint. After it, I'm sad to report that we drank the one Curtis and I had brought, Young's Chocolate Stout, and it did not stand up as well. While it boasted a truly prodigious head, it was surprisingly thin.
I'd also used the Young's to make my dessert, a chocolate toffee trifle, of which Carolyn is a fan. When I made it before, I used Kahlua to soak the chocolate cake; this time, I soaked it all day in Young's. I wasn't sure how it would turn out, but was pleased in the end.
We had a lovely night with old and new friends, then headed home to rest up before our jaunt to Catonsville and Ellicott City, Maryland, to see fellow SC transplants Mich and Eric.
That trip will be the subject of the next installment of No One's Wearing Pink Here . . .
We combined all of those things this past weekend.
On Friday, we went to Ashburn, Virginia, to visit our friend Mike. He was hosting a beer tasting, as he and his circle of beer aficionado friends do every month, and the husband I were lucky enough to be invited. Curtis is much more knowledgeable on the beer topic than I am, and he's definitely more of a beer enthusiast than I, but I always like a chance to a) see people I know and like; b) meet new people; c) see new parts of the world; and d) drink alcohol.
Mike had told us that Ashburn was "out in the country," but I had trouble envisioning it. I came up here with the idea that Northern Virginia was just one big parking lot linking an endless string of strip malls, and while our area does have its fair share of pavement and the aforementioned linked stores and restaurants, I'm pleasantly surprised to find trees, forests, and parks. And, as Mike promised, there was, indeed, country all over his neighborhood. The drive there was a two-lane road sandwiched between farmland, and it was extremely reminiscent of the Virginia near where I grew up, Tazewell County, and the Virginia of my undergraduate years, Blacksburg and greater Montgomery County.
On the way there, we saw the charming Evergreen Market. It was one of those rickety old markets made of cinderblocks, the kind you see mouldering on back roads, about to be torn down, until someone comes along and rehabs it. Kudos to the Evergreen Market folks; if we didn't live so far from you, we'd shop there.
We met two of Mike's friends, Tony and Trisha, who are fellow West Virginians, and that was interesting; of the five people there that night, four were from WV, and I can't remember the last time that has happened outside of family reunions. After 13 years in South Carolina, I became accustomed to seeing no West Virginians, ever.
Mike had made a really delicious chicken chili, and I tried Frito Pie for the first time. Only last week I ate Chili Mac for the first time, from Hard Times Cafe, here in Fairfax. I can't remember who told me about Chili Mac, but it sounded vile the first time I heard of it: spaghetti with chili on it? Oh, HORK. But I tried it at Hard Times, with their Terlingua chili (they have 4 different kinds, including a vegetarian version), and found it unexpectedly delicious. So, armed with my new knowledge of Chili Mac, I felt comfortable branching out to Frito Pie, which is, for those who don't know: Fritos topped with chili. It was good, and a good experience, but next time I'll eat the chili by itself.
We tried 6 different Imperial Stouts that evening, one of which tasted exactly like chocolate Tootsie Roll Pops. There was another I drank right afterward, which was literally tasteless in the beginning, but after it had neared room temperature, was quite flavorful. Sadly, I do not remember the names of these. I will have to ask Mike.
We also had Sierra Nevada's 30th Anniversary Imperial Stout, easily my favorite. Curtis is a fan of all things Sierra Nevada, and this particular gem did not disappoint. After it, I'm sad to report that we drank the one Curtis and I had brought, Young's Chocolate Stout, and it did not stand up as well. While it boasted a truly prodigious head, it was surprisingly thin.
I'd also used the Young's to make my dessert, a chocolate toffee trifle, of which Carolyn is a fan. When I made it before, I used Kahlua to soak the chocolate cake; this time, I soaked it all day in Young's. I wasn't sure how it would turn out, but was pleased in the end.
We had a lovely night with old and new friends, then headed home to rest up before our jaunt to Catonsville and Ellicott City, Maryland, to see fellow SC transplants Mich and Eric.
That trip will be the subject of the next installment of No One's Wearing Pink Here . . .
Thursday, January 13, 2011
This ain't my first time at the rodeo
If you look at my profile info, you'll see that this isn't my first blog. Curtis started one, which is somehow attributed to me, dedicated to our trips to the cabin in Virginia. Well, that's what we liked to call it, because "Driving 4 hours to get hammered for three straight days" makes us sound like a bunch of drunks, and no one likes that. I prefer "lush."
Then I did one this summer, at Tracy Haisley's urging. But, as I was in a bad, bad headspace, it was mostly just me bemoaning my lot in life and trying to keep my head out of the oven. Eventually, I realized we didn't have a gas oven, and writing, for the first time in my life, was only making me feel worse. I kept writing the same things over and over, about how depressed I was, how my life would never get better, how pointless my existence was. In the past, I would have reveled in my dissolution and misery, but that was when I was younger and imagined that life would somehow turn out well. And this summer, I did not entertain that fantasy at all. Furthermore, I couldn't figure out what on earth I'd write about that would make anyone want to read my blog. Today's pajamas: black! Today's lunch: tuna salad on white! Today's best television show: Law & Order SVU! Today's accomplishment: getting out of bed!
So I stopped with the blogging. I was depressing myself, and it wasn't at all cathartic.
Then life changed, and life changed drastically.
On one level, I suppose this blog could be viewed as gloating, or crowing about my life. And maybe there's something to that, although that's not what I intend. I hate reading "Look how awesome my life is" bullshit, and that's not what this is supposed to be.
Instead, this is more a report of something I haven't had in a while: happiness. Peace. Hope. A goal. Sure, there's adversity: the stress of a new job; no pay until the beginning of February; chinchilla freakouts; missing our friends in SC; leaving our house. But there's also the excitement of a new city; of learning new things; of meeting new people; of having a job where I feel valued.
So maybe there's some gloating, sure.
But there's also some relief.
Then I did one this summer, at Tracy Haisley's urging. But, as I was in a bad, bad headspace, it was mostly just me bemoaning my lot in life and trying to keep my head out of the oven. Eventually, I realized we didn't have a gas oven, and writing, for the first time in my life, was only making me feel worse. I kept writing the same things over and over, about how depressed I was, how my life would never get better, how pointless my existence was. In the past, I would have reveled in my dissolution and misery, but that was when I was younger and imagined that life would somehow turn out well. And this summer, I did not entertain that fantasy at all. Furthermore, I couldn't figure out what on earth I'd write about that would make anyone want to read my blog. Today's pajamas: black! Today's lunch: tuna salad on white! Today's best television show: Law & Order SVU! Today's accomplishment: getting out of bed!
So I stopped with the blogging. I was depressing myself, and it wasn't at all cathartic.
Then life changed, and life changed drastically.
On one level, I suppose this blog could be viewed as gloating, or crowing about my life. And maybe there's something to that, although that's not what I intend. I hate reading "Look how awesome my life is" bullshit, and that's not what this is supposed to be.
Instead, this is more a report of something I haven't had in a while: happiness. Peace. Hope. A goal. Sure, there's adversity: the stress of a new job; no pay until the beginning of February; chinchilla freakouts; missing our friends in SC; leaving our house. But there's also the excitement of a new city; of learning new things; of meeting new people; of having a job where I feel valued.
So maybe there's some gloating, sure.
But there's also some relief.
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