Grasping for Reality

Party Bus MOTHERFUCKERS!

2012-02-06T20:40:00.000-05:00

We interrupt your regularly scheduled Costa Rican vacation coverage (which I swear I am going to get back to soon) to bring you this important news update:

I AM NOW 32 YEARS OLD.

I know, shocking right? How did this happen? I guess 32 years went by when I wasn't looking.

There's only one way to celebrate such a momentous occasion. PARTY BUS, MOTHERFUCKERS!

That's right! This past Saturday night we loaded up a Kegbus (delightfully tacky) with 20 or so peeps and hit the mean streets of DC. The bus came complete with a sound system, cooler and sink, and dance poles--though the company dubbed them "safety poles." HA, yeah right.

Selvi had the brilliant idea of making a scavenger hunt for us, and our first stops were by the Washington Monument and Jefferson Memorial. We took some fun pictures and enjoyed some beautiful scenery before we made some more stops at a pub and Ben's Chili Bowl. By that point, the scavenger hunt had kind of broken down, so we just spent the rest of the night driving around downtown and dancing on the bus. As God intended.

I can't remember having a funner time; what could be better than rocking out with your best friends to Lady Gaga, having people lick alcoholic whip cream off you all night (seriously), and watching your friends rock the "safety pole." Special shout out to Carly and Mike for their sweet pole moves. Not a euphemism.

But a picture is worth a thousand words, right?

On the bus and ready for action!

On the outside it looks like a regular school bus, but don't be fooled....

There might be another job in Mike's future...

Someone really liked that whip cream...

Dancing and hanging on for dear life!

The danger made it all worth it.

Playa de Coco and Playa Conchal

2012-01-30T20:37:00.001-05:00

Our second full day in Costa Rica dawned just like the previous one, with a bright sun and a strong breeze. Well, to be honest, our first day dawned with more of a gale force, but according to the locals it can get really windy during the dry season and thankfully the second morning was much more manageable.

Rather than laze around ALL day, we decided to only laze around MOST of the day, and after making my way through most of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone (I can't imagine a better way to spend a vacation), we headed down the road to Playa de Coco, a larger town and beach than the closer Playa Hermosa.

I was pleasantly surprised by how developed the town was; there were several shopping centers and a huge grocery store that we managed to visit every day. As we got closer to the beach, the street became lined with souvenir shops and run-down dive bars. There were tons more locals than tourists, in fact, during our entire visit I was surprised by the low number of tourists. It was nice to just mingle among the Ticos (Costa Ricans) and pretend to fit in. As much as a pasty white ginger can fit in around Costa Rica.

Self-portrait at Playa de Coco

The main square of all Costa Rican towns is comprised of a soccer field across from the Catholic Church. In Playa de Coco the church was a bright green and there was a make-shift parking lot next to the soccer field. A local man told us he would "watch our car" for a small fee, so we gave him some dollars and crossed our fingers. It seemed safer than NOT paying him, after all.

We wandered along the main drag ducking into various shops and comparing prices. All the prices were in dollars and all the shop-owners spoke passable English, so shopping was as easy as falling off a log. And for me that is very easy indeed.

Playa de Coco's main street

The green church!

After about an hour of walking around the town and on the beach, we headed down a side road that paralleled the beach to our dinner spot, Cafe de Playa. It was attached to small but nice hotel, and after a short walk through some lush tropical plants, we emerged to an open restaurant and bar. We had appetizers and drinks on some couches right next to the beach, and watched the sun set behind the hills sheltering the beach. Then we moved "indoors" for our meal which I am happy to report was delicious.

Appetizers on the lawn/beach!

Sunset at Playa de Coco

The next day is when the real adventure began--we took our first day trip to the slightly hidden beach of Playa Conchal. I say hidden because you can't actually reach it by a real road. You have drive to another beach town (Playa Brasilito) and then find a narrow road (i.e. path) that takes you across the Brasilito Beach and over a steep rocky incline. And then BAM! You have arrived at Playa Conchal--a beautiful white beach that is made of a mix of sand and soft crushed shells.

Set back from the beach under the trees were locals providing all kinds of touristy activities; water sports, horseback riding, ATV tours, etc. My friend Mac and his father, Paul, got some horses and took off for a tour of the beach and surrounding area while Mac's mom, Peggy, and I relaxed on the beach.

After the boys got back, we went back over the hill and went swimming at Playa Brasilito. The water there was much calmer than at Playa Conchal, and the guidebook warned that Conchal can have a bit of a rip-tide. I'm almost as afraid of rip-tides as I am of jellyfish*. For the most part, Brasilito was very nice to swim in; the water wasn't very cold, though not exactly warm, and the bottom of the ocean was smooth and sandy. Except for the ONE patch of jagged rocks that a wave managed to knock me onto cutting my toe. Thanks, ocean.

The boys on their horses.

Playa Conchal: the South end

Playa Conchal: the north end

And thus ended our first real adventure! We felt like trail-blazers having found a semi-hidden beach, although I can't really describe it as secluded since the Westin resort backs right into it and there were lots of people about. But still! We were adventurers!

Coming up next time: Maggie vs. the Sea Monster

*FORESHADOWING!

Pura Vida, Baby!

2012-01-26T20:52:00.000-05:00

Greetings from Costa Rica!

Well, technically I should say "greetings from an airplane quickly carrying me away from Costa Rica."

As with most of my well-laid plans, my intention to blog during my vacation to Costa Rica quickly got lost in the ether of too much relaxation and pure laziness. So you're going to have to make due with my days later recollections. But I have my handy guidebook to help me with all the details and I promise to show you lots of fun pictures to make up for any lapse in memory.

This trip kind of occurred by accident--as much as a week-long vacation to Costa Rica can be said to take place by "accident." Basically what I mean is the trip wasn't a result of months of planning by me as per usual, but instead I was invited along with a friend and his parents. Turns out some friends of theirs had built a house in Costa Rice by Playa Hermosa ("beautiful beach") and they were able to rent the home at a great price. Since there were only three of them planning to go, they were kind enough to extend the invite to include me.

We set out on a freezing Wednesday morning from DC and after two three hour flights (with a connection in Miama) we arrived in Liberia, Costa Rica around noon. I spent most of those flights reminding myself of all the reasons why taking a flight at 6 in the morning had been a good idea. It was hardest at 3:45 in the morning when the alarm clock went off. But in any event, we arrived safe and sound, and the weather was a sunny and balmy 85 degrees. A strong breeze kept it from getting too hot and I liked this place already.

Before I get into details of where we stayed, how about some basic info on Costa Rica? The unofficial national motto is "Pura vida" which means pure life. It refers to taking enjoyment in every aspect of life, especially simple and relaxing things like a cold beer on a hot day or a goal scored by your favorite sports team.

Costa Rica is the most stable of all Latin American countries; it has no standing army (exxxxcellent) and has had a stable democratic government for over 100 years. It has a high standard of living compared to most Latin American countries. The people here are all friendly and really helpful, and at least in the areas we travelled, everyone spoke English. In fact, most of the restaurants and shops had prices listed in dollars and accepted American money. Basically, it's really easy to be an American tourist.

The area we stayed in is called the Guanacaste region (or Gold Coast) and gets its name from the large indigenous tree, the Guanacaste (duh). It's located in the north west part of the country, across the border from Nicaragua and has beautiful beaches on the Pacific Ocean. It also has a lot of volcanoes, and next time I visit (trust me, there will be a next time) I want to do some hiking in the volcanic national parks.

We traveled here during the dry season (November-April) and had no rain. In fact each day was pretty much the same; bright sun, little clouds, and temperatures getting up to 90--but with a strong breeze that kept you from getting too hot. It was perfect beach weather, and we took advantage of it by visiting five separate beaches.

Alrighty, now that you know some of the basics, let's talk about our house. It was called Casa de Viento (House of the Winds) and was built on a large hill-top overlooking Playa Hermosa, the Pacific, and Nicaragua. You could even see the chain of volcanoes in the distance, although their tops were shrouded in clouds.

The view from the front of the house

Casa de Viento!

The house was part of a gated community of similar vacation homes. It was about 30 minutes from the airport and only 5 minutes from the small town of Playa Hermosa. About 10 minutes down the road was the larger town and beach of Playa de Coco where we made almost daily trips to the large supermarket (auto merkado). Hey, you almost always need another bottle of wine or another box of Kraft mac and cheese, right?

The house was thoroughly modern, with AC, nice bathrooms, a two story back deck, and a nice little pool that was cold but felt amazing after being in the sun all day. Our first and last day we spent being completely lazy; laying around the pool, soaking in the sun, and reading. There was a nice tv and DVD hook-up, but to be honest we spent most of the time reading rather than watching tv. There were only about 4 english stations--but never fear, I managed to find Law and Order.

It was almost surprising how little time it took us to get acclimated to the laid-back lifestyle. Coming from DC where everything is go go go, you would think that we might need some time to learn how to slow down, but nope. As soon as we walked into the house it was like we all let out a collective sigh and immediately relaxed. When in Rome, er Costa Rica...Pura Vida!

Side view of the pool with some really neat cactus.

Sunset at Playa de Coco.

Coming up next: Playa de Conchal and Playa de Coco!

New Year, Clean Slate

2012-01-09T15:27:00.000-05:00

And here we are! 2012, baby. A new year, a clean slate, and 12 months spread before of us devoid of mistakes, embarrassments, and drama.

Not that it will last, but hey, we should enjoy it while it's here, right?

But before I focus too much on the future, there's still a lot of the past to cover. Lots of things happened in December, but as usual there didn't seem to be time enough to post about it.

Ok, so that's a lie. I had some time, I just didn't feel like it. Writing is like a lot of things; practice makes perfect and you need to make it part of the routine. Once you let it fall by the wayside it's harder to pick it up again. But like I said, it's a new year so time to get back on the horse!

So let's see, what happened in December? There was the holidays of course.

I would say that they went well. It was a quiet holiday since Bill and Amanda stayed out in California (totally understandable since JP was less than 4 weeks old). But it made for a smaller number of people at the Christmas dinner table. Thanks to modern technology, we were able to Skype with them on Christmas Eve and Christmas Morning, and I got to see JP in the flesh (well, the video). It was also a quiet New Years; Selvi had a party over at her place where we played lots of Rock Band, drank lots of Rum Punch and generally enjoyed the good company. It was quite different from last year's hotel gala, but just as fun (if not more so).

Earlier in the month, I had hosted my first of what I hope will be an annual Cookie Swap. Over 20 people participated and we swapped over two dozen types of cookies and recipes. The tables were overflowing with cookies, and frankly, that's what the holidays are all about, right? SUGAR.

And of course, I had my first trip to an all-inclusive resort when I traveled with six others to Jamaica! We stayed at a Breeze's resort in Montego Bay and let me just say. It was FABULOUS. The all-inclusive thing is wonderful; all you can eat, all you can drink, water sports, pools, the beach blah blah blah. But the best part is you don't have to worry about carrying an entire day's worth of stuff with you or any money. All you need is your room key, and if you need something else you can always pop back up to the room for it.

I only left the resort once (to go for a carriage ride ooh la la) and I didn't feel any loss from it all. What else do you need other than sunshine and a wide open beach? It was quite nice to have a relaxing vacation--not that the other ones I've had aren't amazing, but just lying around all day certainly has its perks.

Another day in paradise....

On the boat, headed to snorkeling!

Group dinner at the Japanese steakhouse.

Coming up next: what does January hold?

Adventures in Christmas

2011-12-16T20:21:00.000-05:00

If my life was a movie, the overarching theme would be that you should never assume things will go the way you planned. It's almost too perfect a set-up: the adorably OCD ginger single gal who plans every aspect of her life gets involved in wacky adventures and hijinks when everything goes to hell due to life's strange quirks. Of course, if my life was an actual movie, I would be played by Amy Adams and some charming hunky guy would enter state right in Act II to sweep me off my feet.

Instead, something simple like say, decorating the Christmas tree, turns into an ordeal.

Look at it. Sitting there looking all innocent.

Things starting off simply enough. A friend and I got together last week to trim the tree and I had everything figured out. There was a tree trimming playlist, a yummy dinner, and first the lights, then the ornaments, and voila! Decorated Christmas tree!

The first sign of trouble occurred when I was putting on the lights. About halfway through one of the strands winked out. Ok, fine. No problem--probably just a blown fuse. We replaced the fuse in the strand and everything worked fine. But then when I had gotten all the lights on tree....they all went out. Alright, so we figured there was a blown fuse in the first strand. We replaced that, but 2 minutes later all the lights went out AGAIN. We changed the other blown fuse in the first strand, but it was quickly becoming clear that something more serious was wrong.

We took all the lights off the tree and plugged them into individual outlets to try to figure out if one of them had a short circuit (we figured this would be quicker than going through each strand bit by bit looking for a frayed wire). A little while later though...the fire alarm in my building went off. This led to walking down 16 flights of stairs and standing for 20 minutes in the pouring rain. The good news was when we came back upstairs (on the elevator thank god), one of the strands of lights was half out. We figured that was the one with the short circuit and plugged all the other strands into each other for half an hour just to be sure.

All the lights stayed on with no trouble for more than half an hour, so I got back to putting them all back on the tree. All the lights went on with no problem and then it was on to the ornaments! We hung the ornaments in record time since by now it was getting late, and I hung the last ornament, the pickle. I turned to my friend and said, "that was the last one!"

And BAM. All the lights went out again.

I'm not kidding. I literally said that I had hung the last ornament and less than a second later all the tree lights went out. Another blown fuse in the first strand. But this time, the plug had become so overheated that the access panel to the fuses had melted. There was only one logical conclusion: the extension cord that I was using was faulty and was allowing too much current to travel through the lights causing all the blown fuses.

That extension cord got dumped, and we were able to get some of the lights going again with multiple extension cords hidden throughout the tree.

HAHA! Suck on that TREE. I still made you look awesome despite your attempts to destroy Christmas!

So file this one under stories of perseverance. It's not like I overcame a hideous disease or accident, but sometimes Christmas feels just as stressful, am I right?

Joy, then terror, then optimistic excitement!

2011-12-01T10:06:00.000-05:00

For years (31 of them to be exact), I was the youngest in my family. But as of November 25, 2011 that's no longer the case. Because onto them a child is born....so please welcome the newest member of the Riley clan, my nephew, the one and only, JAMES PATRICK RILEY!

Of course, since this is us we're talking about nothing is ever easy. James' birth was about three weeks early and while it was not technically a premature birth, according to the doctors he experiences some "characteristics of a premature baby." My response to that is clearly awesomeness must be such a characteristic, but they seem more concerned about how he was having trouble regulating his blood sugar and his digestion problems. Silly doctors.

And of course I am totally kidding-the doctors are the really awesome ones. When I heard from my Mom Friday morning that James had been born overnight, I was ecstatic. I'm not a huge baby fan--I think it comes from being the youngest in the family and not having any baby experience--but once I heard that James was actually here I got super excited, happy, and maybe a touch of the old baby fever. The rest of the day passed with a big smile on my face.

But then my brother texted me on Friday night that James had to go into the neonatal ICU because of some complications. Annnnnd then came the panic and terror. I knew on an objective level that everything he was telling me was totally normal for a preemie and James was in one of the best hospitals in the country and they would get him fixed up soon...but on a purely emotional level I was scared. The rest of the weekend passed in a anxiety-filled blur and seemed to last a lifetime. James has only improved as each day goes by and now it's just a matter of giving him time to get stronger before he can head home...but the past few days have been rough.

Let's forget all that though and focus on the good stuff! Like how absolutely adorable James Patrick (or JP as I think I will call him*) is.

I love how proud and happy my brother looks (if a bit tired). I can't imagine how he and Amanda have been feeling the past few days, but I am so happy for them and can't wait to meet my new nephew when I head out to LA in February!

I probably won't post a ton more updates here because I think it's more Bill and Amanda's business to let people know the specifics of James' progress, but you should know that no news is good news and of course there will be plenty of pics here and on Facebook as I get them.

I'll just end with a general Mazel tov and a welcome to the world, James. Get ready, because your Aunt Maggie is coming and we are going to have so. much. fun.

*I think his other nickname will be Captain James P. Riley.

Thanksgiving 2011

2011-11-26T09:37:00.000-05:00

Ah, Thanksgiving. Much like Christmas, people bitch and moan about the true message of Thanksgiving becoming lost in the commercial shuffle. "It's not about gorging ourselves on food," they say. "It's about giving thanks for all our blessings."

I don't know about you, but I was very thankful that I could sit down to a feast with my family and friends. I mean, the point is that we are thankful we have food, right? What better way to say it then with pie?

But I digress. This year's Thanksgiving was a quiet one. Since Bill and Amanda were staying in California due to the imminent birth of my nephew (more on that coming up on the blog), and my stepsister and her husband (Marin and Scott) were having their own Thanksgiving, there were only four of us at the main dinner event this year at my Aunt Kim's house. But there is certainly something to be said for a small celebration--in years past we've had around 12 people and while it's nice to catch up with everyone, I tend to like a more intimate holiday. I was certainly thankful that we were all healthy and happy and that we could spend the day with each other.

In preparation for Thanksgiving, I had been watching a lot of stuff on the Food Network--including their Thanksgiving Live show hosted by my favorite celebrity chef, Alton Brown. As part of the show, he demonstrated the proper way to carve a turkey. I'd always thought of carving the turkey as some kind of master skill that took years to develop, like surfing or juggling. Turns out, not so much. Cut along this bone here and wrap around that bone there...and wa la! Perfectly carved turkey!

I thought to myself, this is the year. Carving the turkey was always the realm of the Grandma or the Dad, but not this year! This was MY year! To show that I could actually handle the responsibility without ruining Thanksgiving. So after the turkey had been resting for about 30 minutes (always rest the turkey you guys--or all the juices spill out) I seized the opportunity. Before anyone else made a move toward the bird, I loudly asked, "can I carve the turkey?"

I had expected a bit more of a response. Maybe a raised eyebrow or a questioning look. But no. Everyone just pretty much shrugged and said "sure." Ok, so it wasn't the dramatic moment I had expected. But I was still a little nervous. Still, no time like the present. I slapped that bird on the cutting board, grabbed the carving knife and went at it. And you know what? Alton was right, it worked perfectly! I got the whole breast off in one piece and carved it right onto the platter. It was juicy and tender, just the way my Aunt likes it.

So basically I saved Thanksgiving.

Not really, but I figured this story needed an exciting ending.

The turkey master!

After eating with my family and watching the first two hours of The Sound of Music, I headed over to Chris and Kent's place to catch up with Mom who had celebrated Thanksgiving with them. I was just in time for pie (or should I say MORE pie) and to watch Miracle on 34th Street, one of the best Thanksgiving and Christmas movies ever. By the end of the night, we were all stuffed, lethargic, tired, happy, and thankful for one another. And isn't THAT what Thanksgiving is all about?

Well, that and pie. Here are my Aunt's pumpkin pie and pumpkin crisp. SO GOOD!

Cross that one off the bucket list

2011-11-12T14:02:00.004-05:00

I love it when a plan comes together.

A little more than a year ago, I started the Couch to 5K program. In the beginning, I could barely jog for 60 seconds without wanting to die. And that gradually I worked up to 3 minutes, then 5, etc. etc. When I ran my first mile, I felt like I had climbed a mountain, and when I posted about it here on the blog people were so supportive and I thought that maybe I could actually get to that 5K.

Well guess what? This morning, I participated in my first 5K race. And it felt AMAZING.

There have been set backs of course. Remember when I sprained my ankle back in September on vacation? I lost four weeks of training time and I thought for sure I wouldn't be able to hit the 3 miles in time for a race in early November. After a particularly bad run around the middle of October (some days your legs just feel like lead) I posted on Facebook that I didn't think it was going to happen.

But then my ankle healed, people encouraged me, I kept on going, and this morning BAM. 5K race, scratched off the list. It was a race for a local high school charity (actually my high school's rival), and I didn't have any idea what to expect. It was a chilly but clear day, and Mom drove me over to the high school. The last thing I wanted to worry about while running was where I was going to put my keys (confession: usually I just stick my car key in my sports bra).

When we arrived (about 30 minutes before race time) there were people of all ages milling around. People were dressed in turkey costumes, some had their dogs, and there were a lot of kids and moms with strollers. There was also a sound system pumping out some Top 40 songs and the whole mood of the place was people having a fun time.

Number 128, baby!

When I picked up my race packet the day before (which really only contained a bunch of ads), I also got my race number. There's a strip attached to the back of the number that tracks your time and I would assume has some kind of GPS thingy. I pinned on my number and joined in on the fun group warm-up 15 minutes before racetime. We then all lined up under the scaffold starting line and with a "ready, set, GO!" we were off. To the races.

So you probably want to hear about the actual run itself. I had done a practice run on the course the week before and while it went well, the number of hills made me nervous. There weren't a lot of flat stretches on this course, and hills have not been my strong suit. But you know what they say about race day adrenaline? BELIEVE THE HYPE. I made it up a hill longer and steeper than any I had done before, and the downhill parts definitely helped me catch my break. By the 2 mile mark, I couldn't believe how good I felt--when usually I would be reaching the gasping for air stage of the run and forcing myself forward. I think there was a lot of the "I can't believe I'm actually doing this" feeling that really spurred me on.

The volunteers and cops standing at the intersections where the roads were closed also did an awesome job cheering us all on, and I found myself chatting and getting encouragement from other people during the actual race. When I approached the last turn that led to the finish line I sprinted forward, got a bunch of high fives from the bystanders (and Mom) and leaped across the finish line! I was tired sure, but I also felt awesome.

Coming into the finish line!

The plan from here is to do a 5K at least every 6 months so I'll keep up with the training. My time today was almost exactly 42 minutes which is good for me (the best I've ever done was on the treadmill and 40 minutes), but I would love to eventually get myself to 30 minutes. But in 6 months I'm going to shoot for 35 minutes. Instead of sitting on my laurels, I'm just going to keep going! And thanks to everyone for all your amazing support, I couldn't have done it without you!

Post-race FIERCENESS.

For some reason, I always want to pronounce this "gooble."

Mom and I are such turkeys.

First Rule: Cardio

2011-10-26T17:49:00.006-04:00

Last night, Carly and I headed to the Fairfax County Government Center for an evening with Max Brooks. You might know him as the author of World War Z and The Zombie Survival Guide, but I know him as my secret boyfriend.

I might have made up that last part.

First a few words about Max Brooks in general. He was funnier and more engaging than I expected; apparently he's done some acting and wrote for SNL for a few years (one of the Emmy winning years in fact). He did a lot of funny accents, gave some funny examples, and let out his inner nerd with frequent videogame, World of Warcraft, and Lord of the Ring references.

The program began with a 30 minute talk from Mr. Brooks about how to stay alive during a zombie apocalypse, focusing on the things the movies don't show you. He then took questions from the audience and did a book signing. Like a good blogger I took notes so that you, my dear readers, wouldn't miss out anything. Hopefully you'll now at least stand a chance of not being horribly killed when your grandma develops a taste for human flesh.

Mr. Brooks began by answering the number one question he is always asked: why zombies? The answer was a little more in-depth than I expected. Basically, they are monsters that don't obey the rules. Most of the time the hero ventures out to find the monster; he or she has to go to the abandoned castle, or walk a lonely road at midnight, or wander into the creepy swamp. But zombies are one of the only monsters that will come find you. You're sitting down for dinner with your family and whoops here come the zombies. As Mr. Brooks put it, "they will come to your home and they will come for you."

The first thing Mr. Brooks did when he decided to take on the zombie genre was to disabuse himself of the cliches of conventional zombie entertainment. His goal, according to him, isn't merely to entertain but also to save your life. Fiction is based on characters making bad choices--and in our society we blur the line between entertainment and eduction. But Mr. Brooks' goal is apparently to arm you with the knowledge necessary for survival.

So how are you supposed to protect yourself? As with most things, the devil is in the details, and Mr. Brooks pointed out that you don't see the details in the movies or the tv shows. It's not very riveting to see someone in the middle of the latest zombie-blockbuster die of dehydration or dysentery. But that's what you REALLY need to worry about. If you want to survive the coming of World War Z you're going to need:

--Water. And not just water, but a way to purify water when you're on the move.

--Weapons, but not guns. "Guns don't kill people and people don't kill people. Bullets kill people." With a potential for billions of zombies in the world you're going to run out of ammo pretty quickly. After all, "there's 300 million Americans here. I don't know how many Mexicans...and a hell of a lot more Canadians than they want me to believe." Your best bet isn't a gun, it's something less likely to break or run of of ammo and can operate in close range. And don't get fancy, the best weapons started out as tools. Don't think that samurai sword hanging on your wall (or the Sword of Gryffindor you bought online) is going to save your ass. Get yourself to the hardware store and stock up on axes, sledge hammers, etc.

--Transportation. DON'T USE A CAR. Cars need gas. You will run out of gas. Then you'll be zombie chow. Mr. Brooks recommends a bicycle. It's light, it's portable, and you can load stuff up on the back. And until they invent a mode of transport that runs on fear...oh wait, they have. A bike. Just wait and see how fast you'll pedal when the zombies come a-calling.

--Figure out where to run. Avoid heavily populated areas since the more people in a place, the more zombies. Find a place that isolated and go native. I know as Americans it's practically against our religion, but if you're going to survive in these places, you'll need to listen and learn to the indigenous people (you might want to leave your smallpox blankets at home).

--Work together. Another problem for Americans, but really key. Find people with specialized useful skills and make them part of your group. Mr. Books recommends that we start vetting people now to determine if we want them to be part of our group when the apocalypse strikes. His advice is to "lure them in with smiles and laughter...like Scientology."

After we got through the basics on surviving the zombies, it was time for the Q+A. I didn't write down most of the questions but on the whole most of them were pretty good. I was interested in hearing about the movie, but when I asked my question, "are the details that you said are never in the movies going to be in your movie?" his response was "you mean Brad Pitt's movie? Next question." Someone asked him to go in a bit more detail and he stated that he hadn't read the script, had nothing to do with the movie, and to be honest, he seemed a bit...maybe bitter is too strong a word but very dismissive about it. He did say that Brad Pitt was a really nice guy and when he visited the set he couldn't have been nicer.

Mr. Brooks was also very kind during the signing, taking the time for pictures with anyone who asked and putting personalized messages in almost every book. Oh, and his last piece of advice?

Don't think the movies and television shows you've seen are going to save you.

The big question I'm left with and the one I wish I had asked is whether Max Brooks really believes that a zombie outbreak could happen. He's made quite a living on zombies and he seems to take this stuff really seriously, but I wonder. Does he REALLY think it could happen?

Do you?

Shamu&Harry&Mickey

2011-10-23T11:37:00.008-04:00

Ah, sunny Florida. Or the Florida that is SUPPOSED to be sunny. Because when we arrived for a few days at the beginning of the month it poured rain. And kept pouring. And kept pouring for a day and a half. Which may not sound like a lot, but when you are only there for four days it does tend to put a damper on things. Literally. Turns out there was a tropical depression directly over us. Figures.

But we refused to let it spoil our fun! We had a group of 8 people (Me, Chris, Kent, Kristin, Kevin, Carly, Wendy, and Luke) and after meeting up at the airport we braved the rain and the Orlando weekend traffic for a mini-break of sea creatures, roller coasters, and magic. Chris and Kent had managed to find us a townhouse in a resort about 30 minutes from all the theme parks, and it worked out to have plenty of room for all of us. But no internet.

Let me repeat, no internet.

What kind of resort these days does not supply internet? One in Davenport, Florida apparently. But that's a total first world problem and we managed to survive. And other than the no internet the place was great. Did I mention the hot tubs and water slide? I mean, who needs internet when you have a water slide?

Ok, so back to the fun stuff. Our first full day in town we decided to hit up SeaWorld. It was still raining, but we figured we would be getting wet anyway at SeaWorld so why not go for it. The bad weather also kept the crowds down. Going into SeaWorld I didn't have expectations; I had never really considered going there or figuring out what there was to see/do in the park, but I ended up being pleasantly surprised. There are two really fun roller coasters for the thrill-seekers (including the Manta which was one of the scariest and fun rides I've ever been on) and lots of shows centering around the marine life at the park. Dolphins, killer whales, sea lions, each one had their own show that was structured differently and a lot of fun. But the best part of the day was when we got to play with the penguins.

If you know Chris, you know he is obsessed with penguins. So the entire reason for the jaunt to SeaWorld was so that we could take a behind-the-scenes tour of the penguin and puffin area and interact with the animals. We started out by learning about how the penguins are cared for and raised, and then moved into an "office" where we could see a puffin. The puffins are more skittish than the penguins and their feathers absorb oils from our skin really easily so unfortunately we weren't allowed to touch the one we met, but he was very cute and actually seemed very cat-like. He had lots of little toys that he enjoyed playing with and chasing and was a sucker for a piece of string. Adorable.

Hello, Mr. Puffin.

Then it was onto the penguins! We got to interact with two of them, a larger King penguin and a smaller breed whose name escapes me. Although the smaller penguin's actual name was Jasper. Adorable! They were both friendly and tolerated us posing with them, petting them, and being overall enchanted with them very well. The little staging area where we met the penguins was right next to the penguin compound so we got an up close and personal view of the hundreds of other penguins that also live at SeaWorld.

Hello, penguins.

I AM PETTING A PENGUIN!

As a bonus, the weather cleared up that afternoon and we had sunny skies for the rest of our stay. It was a penguin miracle!

The most surprising thing that we learned about the penguins and puffins is that they are projectile poopers. No lie, they can spray that shit about 3 feet. Since they spend so much time sitting in their nests keeping their eggs warm (since it's freaking cold where they live) they evolved the ability to projectile poop to keep the nest clean. This means you need to be careful not to get behind the penguin or you can get hit. When we met the puffin, we were told to stay behind a drain that had been placed on the floor and that would keep us out of the splash zone. Sure enough, as soon as the puffin was in with us he turned around and let it fly. It was gross but also kind of neat since it was so different. And the puffin was just so cute that anything it did seemed charming. Even pooping.

The rest of our stay we visited the Universal Parks including The Wizarding World of Harry Potter and it was so fun to see it for the first time through everyone else's eyes. Especially since most of us are big old honking Harry Potter dorks. One look at the Hogwarts Express and the castle itself is all it takes to turn us into giggling little kids. But that's the fun of theme parks, right?

Group photo at the Hogwarts Express

Hogwarts!

Here I am giving my best Azkaban impression. I don't think I really have the crazy down yet...

Kristin and I trying on tiaras at the Bibbity Boppity Boutique in the Downtown Disney shopping area. I think the price tags really add a certain something. As Kevin put it, we were the "frugal princesses."

Look at this stuff, isn't it neat

2011-10-16T13:45:00.005-04:00

All good things must come to an end, and so did our European vacation. This will be the last post covering our adventures which I suppose could be a good or bad thing depending on how much you like reading about other people's travels.

Our final stop on our cruise was Copenhagen, Denmark. I wish I could say that it lived up to some of the other places we visited but the truth is Copenhagen had some stuff working against it. First, it poured rain all day. It's just not as much fun to take a walking tour when you are getting pounded by rain. Second, my ankle was beginning to bother me. I had made it through Tallinn pretty well, but by Copenhagen, I was experiencing some problems walking. The cruise line was unwilling to give us a refund on our booked tour, so I went ahead and toughed it out.

Copenhagen is the capital and largest city of Denmark, and is situated on two islands, Zealand and Amager. Copenhagen became the capital of Denmark in the beginning of the 15th century. During the 17th century, under the reign of Christian IV, it became a significant regional centre.
The city is currently a major regional centre of culture, business, media, and science, and has repeatedly been recognized as one of the cities with the best quality of life. However, living in the city also comes with a high price, literally. If I remember our tour guide correctly, taxes in Denmark hover around the 70% level which means the Danes pay through the nose for their fun. Suck on THAT Tea Partiers.

Our tour started along the sea with stops at some historical statues. The first, celebrating Hans Christian Andersen's The Little Mermaid is one of Copenhagen's most iconic images. I'm ashamed to say that the other statues, while lovely, were not able to penetrate the detritus of my brain and allow me to remember their names. However, I can tell you that they were all made as gifts to Denmark after some royal lady was married off. Our tour guide joked that Denmark's number one export was royal daughters, and it's number one import was statutes from them after they got married off.

The Little Mermaid

Random statute and church...sorry guys, that's all I got on this one.

We continued to walk along the coast of the city and saw several motorcades pass including the car that was transporting the Crown Prince. Apparently there was a memorial dedication for Denmark's fallen in the Iraq/Afghanistan war going on that day so the big wigs had turned out. Our tour guide also liked to joke that Denmark had not won a successful military campaign in around 500 years and the last one, against maybe Sweden? came as such a complete shock that people didn't know what to do with themselves. This kind of self-deprecating humor is common to the Danes; in fact, they seemed to kind of have a sad-sack quality. I guess they are the Eeyore of Scandinavia.

After almost getting run over by the Crown Prince, we turned away from the water and headed to the oldest section of Copenhagen's inner city (called the "Middelalderbyen" (The Medieval City). We also walked through the most distinctive district of Copenhagen, the Frederiksstaden developed during the reign of Frederick V. It has Amalienborg Palace at its centre and is dominated by the dome of the Marble Church and several elegant 18th century mansions. The old inner city of Copenhagen includes the small island of Slotsholmen with Christiansborg Palace and Christianshavn. Around the historical city centre lies a band of congenial residential bouroughs (Vesterbro, Inner Nørrebro, Inner Østerbro) dating mainly from late 19th century. They were built outside the old ramparts of the city when the city was finally allowed to expand beyond this barrier.

Our tour wandered through the city, but to be perfectly honest, at this point Copenhagen was blending into a lot of the other cities we had visited. Our tour included the walking portion and then a boat portion, but by the time we arrived at the canal for the boat tour, we had had enough of the rain and decided to just wander through the old party of the city shopping and looking around.

Well, that about does it! The rest of our trip passed (mostly) without incident. Going back into Amsterdam we had REALLY rough seas, the worst I have ever experienced, but we arrived safe and sound. We spent another night in Amsterdam and just sort of wandered around without aim to enjoy the sights one last time. We watched a lot of the National Geographic Channel (one of the only American tv channels) and I read a lot of the latest Wheel of Time book. Our flights back the next day went off without a hitch, although the walking through the airports and inability to elevate my ankle made for an uncomfortable experience. And when we arrived back in DC, there was my Mom waiting with a sign and her camera to welcome us home. And that was really one of the best parts--coming back home to a happy and smiling Mom.

Welcome home! As you can see, Chris and I look happy however Kent couldn't really give a shit since he just wants a cigarette. Good times!

Ye Olde Medieval Town

2011-10-02T20:42:00.001-04:00

In the weeks leading up to my cruise, many people inquired as to where I was going. I would tell them our itinerary, and a common (surprising) response was "ooooh, Tallinn! You are going to love it, it is one of the most beautiful cities in Europe!" This was surprising to me because 1) Tallinn wasn't ever really on my radar before and 2) Estonia? Really?

Well, they were right. Tallinn was an unexpected highlight of our trip, and even the fact that I had sprained my ankle the day before couldn't slow us down. With the help of Chris' ankle brace I managed to tramp my way across the ancient part of Tallinn and across some castle ruins. Yay castles!

Tallinn was another port where we didn't book an excursion through the cruise company. The historical part of Tallinn is pretty small so wandering around by ourselves was pretty easy, and the free map identified all the main touristy locations. The cruise ship also offered a shuttle from the port to downtown area, so we were all set.

Some quick background: the first traces of human settlement found in Tallinn are about 5000 years old. In 1050 the first fortress was built on Tallinn Toompea, the hill and upper part of the town. The city was also an important port for trade between Russia and Scandinavia during the period of Northern Crusades in the beginning of the 13th century when Christianity was forcibly imposed on the local population. Danish rule of Tallinn and Northern Estonia started in 1219. The Danes sold Tallinn along with their other land possessions in northern Estonia in 1346. Medieval Tallinn enjoyed a strategic position at the crossroads of trade between Western and Northern Europe and Russia. The city, with a population of 8,000, was very well fortified with city walls and 66 defence towers.

Tallinn passed to the Swedes in the sixteenth century, and then to imperial Russia in 1710. The 19th century brought industrialization of the city and the port kept its importance. On 24 February 1918, the Independence Manifesto was proclaimed in Tallinn, followed by Imperial German occupation and a war of independence with Russia. On 2 February 1920, the Tartu Peace Treaty was signed with Soviet Russia, wherein Russia acknowledged the independence of the Estonian Republic. Tallinn became the capital of an independent Estonia. After World War II started, Estonia was occupied by the Soviet Union (USSR) in 1940, and later occupied by Nazi Germany from 1941 to 44. After the Nazi retreat in 1944, it was again occupied by the USSR. After annexation into the Soviet Union, Tallinn became the capital of the Estonian SSR.

So basically, Tallinn got jerked around for centuries but has cut the strings and become a real boy. Yay!

After getting off the bus in downtown Tallinn, we wandered down a large street lined with market stalls. At the end of the street were the gates of Tallinn, the medieval entrance to the city. Once we passed through the gates, we were in the Toompea, an area that was once a separate town that occupied an easily defensible site overlooking the surrounding districts.

Medieval gates of Tallinn.

Close-up!

Medieval square in Tallinn.

Tallinn street.

I was immediately struck by how beautiful Tallinn is. Cobble streets are flanked by colorful row houses, and you can easily imagine a bustling medieval market in the city center. People wander from cafes to shops, and there are actually a large number of modern dance clubs situated throughout the medieval area. The ruins of a stone church stand on top of the hill overlooking the lower town, contrasting with the more modern Russian Orthodox Alexander Nevsky Cathedral with its characteristic onion domes. You know how theme parks will sometimes have a "medieval town" or something like that in the entrance shopping area? Well, Tallinn is what the theme parks are trying to recreate. It's the real thing, you guys.

Outside wall of Tallinn castle.

Alexander Nevsky Cathedral

Castle and cathedral. Two for one!

We spent the afternoon walking to the major sites (the castle, the cathedral, the scenic overlook) and ducking into shops. There was lots of amber, wool clothing, nesting dolls, and jewelry. We even ran into our South African friends at the overlook area. But after walking through the town most of the afternoon, my ankle (and feet) needed a break so back to the ship! While we were only in Tallinn a few hours, it made quite an impression. And now we have ANOTHER place to add to the "must return to" list. Maybe we should just do the same cruise again sometime.

View of Tallinn from the scenic overlook.

Sitting on the well, just don't lean back...

I think this was a statute of a chimney sweep. Don't ask me why.

Fun at the castle. Well what else are you going to do when presented with a giant sword and shield.

In sum: Tallinn is beautiful, quaint, charming, and perfect for any medieval-history nuts.

The Ballad of Margaret and Julian

2011-09-30T10:57:00.002-04:00

This post is all about how Chris, Kent, and I ended up having dinner at the Captain's Table one night of our cruise.

Spoiler alert: it's not because we're classy. Actually it's because we are the complete opposite of classy.

Our first day on the ship, we went to the show where the officers and the entertainment staff (including the cruise director) introduce themselves. When it came turn for the Hotel Director to speak, I was instantly smitten. Never mind the fact that he was in his late 40s, didn't have a lot of hair, and was married. He was from England! So that's all you need.

So from that point on, I was determined to get to know Julian.

But our tale really begins with an explanation about where our cabin was located on the cruise ship. That stuff above was just setting the scene. Chris loves to be at the front of ship (or the bow if you want to get fancy). I'm not really sure why, maybe it's posher? Anyways, this time our cabin was right next to the door to the bridge and the officer's quarters. No lie, right next door.

While walking down the hall one day, Kent passed Julian on his way to or from his quarters. As there had been a shocking lack of towel animals in our room, Kent stopped the Hotel Director and asked if we could get towel animals. Most people would probably just take this up with their cabin steward, but Kent decided to go right to the top. Julian was very gracious and promised to see to it that we would get towel animals.

And we did!

In response, on our comment card, I wrote the following message: We <3 Julian! I then dropped the card off at Guest Relations. Was this an adult way to thank someone? No. Were we really excited about getting those towel animals? Hell yes. So it seemed appropriate.

And then! The next day, after returning from lunch or something, we came in to find a plate of chocolate-covered strawberries had been delivered to our room. With compliments, from Julian. So now we were feeling really special. I composed a lovely thank you note and sent it on its way.

But we were only getting started. We decided that it would be nice to invite Julian, Mr. Hotel Director, to join us for dinner one night. After all, we had this big table for 8 all to ourselves (the other people assigned to our table never showed up). So we decided next time we saw him, we would invite him.

That night, while playing craps in the casino, the cruise director, Sue, wandered past us. Sue was a lovely older woman (also from England). Chris and I exchanged a look, grabbed our chips and took off after her. And when I saw "took off" I mean that we literally ran down the hall yelling her name. We finally caught up to her and breathlessly asked if she and Julian would like to join us at our table sometime. She gave us the typical "we're very busy in the evening" line but took down our cabin number and promised to call us and let us know if they were available.

The next day we had a phone message from Sue. While she and Julian were not free for dinner, they invited us to drinks at the martini bar the next night. Success! We ended up having a great time; we chatted with them both for more than an hour, which was more time than we thought they would give us. And apparently Sue and Julian had a good time too. And let's be honest: we probably the only people on that ship under the age of 50, so it must have been nice for them to talk to some spry people. They also both expressed surprise at our dinner invitation, apparently this was the first time someone had extended it to them. Usually they were the ones who asked people to dinner! We also learned that Julian's cabin was next door to ours. Awesome.

We parted ways good friends, and looked forward to seeing them around the ship. Imagine our surprise a few days later when we received a printed invitation to join Julian at the Captain's Table in the main dining room for dinner.

At last, we were in.

It was the last formal night of the cruise, so we were dressed in our best. We met up with the other people dining at the table that night in the wine bar and enjoyed some hors d'oeuvres, wine, and champagne. Julian and his pregnant wife (who had joined the ship in Copenhagen) joined us and then we walked to the table in the dining room. Actually it was more like parading, as they led us through the center of the room and everyone got a good long look at the cool kids who got to sit at the main table. Chris saw that some of the people older people looked as us askance, I say let them. They were just jealous.

Dinner was excellent; we had the main maitre des as our servers, and all the wine and champagne we could drink. It also seemed like the quality of the cuts of meats and such was slightly better than you find at the normal tables. That was very gratifying. They even took our picture and gave the ladies roses. You guys, we were so fancy. We had a wonderful time just eating and chatting with Julian and his wife and I think I can honestly say that the table would have been much more boring without us. But isn't that true of everything?

All in all, it was a perfect way to begin the wrap-up of our vacation. And it just goes to prove that persistence can get you almost anything. If you stalk someone long enough, chances are you'll get what you want! Not sure that's really the lesson here, but whatever. It's Friday. I don't have time to come with a moral for every blog post I write.

Still to come in the vacay recap: posts about Tallin, Estonia and Copenhagen, Denmark. Are you psyched??

St. Petersburg, Part Deux

2011-09-25T09:27:00.015-04:00

Ah, another day, another day long tour. We basically went whole hog for St. Petersburg, after all, how many times are you in Russia?

We spent very little time in St. Petersburg proper on the second day of our tour. Instead we took to the country to enjoy some Russian royal hospitality. Our first stop was Catherine's Palace, the summer residence of the Romanov tsars. Located about 30 minutes drive from downtown St. Petersburg, it was first built in 1717 by Catherine I (NOT Catherine the Great, but the wife of Peter the Great who took over Russia after he died without designating an heir). It was later expanded by Empress Anna and it's current appearance was designed by Bartolomeo Rastrelli, the same architect who designed the Winter Palace and Peterhof Palace and was a favorite of Empress Elizabeth (the expansion was completed in 1756).

Exterior of a small part of Catherine's palace (seriously the thing must be half a mile long from tip to tip) as seen from the back park.

Cupulas of Catherine's Palace

Chris and I do our impressions of the statues in front of the Palace.

It was known for its lavish interiors and trust me, this place does not disappoint. Unfortunately, almost everything inside the palace is a reproduction as it was occupied by the Nazis during WWII (1941-1944) and used as a soldier barracks. They ripped everything out and left the place a hollow shell. Damn, Nazis. God, they sucked. Fortunately, many of the most valuable contents were evacuated and archivists were able to document most of the interior. A large portion of the palace was reconstructed for St. Petersburg's tercentenary in 2003, but there were still many rooms in the huge palace that haven't been tackled yet. Hopefully one day the entire place will be restored to its former glory.

Main Staircase of Catherine's Palace

The Great Hall (or Light Gallery) was designed in the Russian baroque style and was used for balls, formal dinners, and masquerades. If you've seen the movie Anastasia , this is where the opening ball takes place. All the gilding would have originally been solid gold, but as it's a reproduction, it's wood covered with gold leaf. Still, not too shabby.

Detail of one of the walls in one of the courtiers-in-attendance dining room. The large blue porcelain columns are actually fireplaces, they have small openings at the front where the wood inside would be lit.

The rooms in the palace are layed out in a long line so you can look through one doorway all the way to the end of the palace (or you could if you could see that far down). But it's gold gilding as far as the eye can see...

The Green Dining Room, first of the rooms in the northernmost end of the Palace.

After spending the morning at Catherine's Palace, we went to a local restaurant called The Red Restaurant (after the red facade) for another traditional Russian lunch. This time it was beef stroganoff which was delicious, and served with fingerling potatoes rather than noodles. And of course, vodka. All in all, yum.

Stroganoff. It may not look super-appetizing, but trust me, it was AMAZING.

We got back on the road and headed to another Romanov residence, Peterhof Palace. It was built in 1714 by Peter the Great who wanted a palace to rival those of the French and a place to glorify Russia's recent naval victories over Sweden. It was the summer residence of Peter and the grounds contain over 150 fountains. The palace was called the Versailles of the Russia, and after walking through the grounds it is easy to see why.

The Grand Cascade at Peterhof Part I...

Part II...

And Part III.

Looking over the Grand Cascade, down the canal, to the sea beyond.

The "palace" is actually comprised of many different buildings and a chain of parks facing the sea. The water for the fountains is pumped through a unique hydraulics system that uses no machinery or pumps. Don't ask me how they do it, I'm just a tourist. Enjoy the pics!

The Lion Fountain (the temple portion is flanked by two lions, you can see one in the background on the left).

In this fountain, ducks circle as they are chased by a small dog. The fountain actually makes quacking and barking noises. Popular with the kiddies.

The Adam fountain. Eve is located across the main walkway of the park.

The Sun fountain.

The Dragon (or Chess Board) fountain.

There's a rumor in St. Petersburg...

2011-09-21T18:36:00.006-04:00

....and it's not that Anastasia was alive; it's that Maggie was coming!

Let's face it--the highlight of this cruise was always going to be the two days we were docked in St. Petersburg. And as luck would have it, it was the jewel in our vacation crown. But before I get into the details of our visit, how about some historical background? It's kind of my favorite.

St. Petersburg was founded in 1703 by Peter the Great and was modeled on the great cities of Western Europe. After touring the other cities of Europe, Peter was determined to "modernize" Russia and build a city as beautiful as Paris, Venice, or London. He hired French architects and built the city on a series of islands spanning the river Neva. St. Petersburg was the capitol city of Russia from 1712 to 1918 and is currently the second largest city in Russia with 5 million people (Moscow is the largest). The city has also had several name changes in its time; during WWI it was called Petrograd as the Russians changed all German-sounding names in the country. It was then renamed Leningrad in 1917 following the Bolshevik revolution until 1994 when the residents voted to restore the original name of St. Petersburg.

My first impressions of the city were that it was one of the most beautiful I had ever seen. It's full of buildings dating from the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries as the Russians prefer to restore existing buildings rather then rely on new construction. I was also surprised by how many of the architectural details remain; I assumed during the Soviet era many of them would have been torn down, but the truth is that any damage done to the city was caused by the Germans during WWII. It's loaded with palaces (as each Romanov was given their own palace and there were 60 of them in 1916) cathedrals, and other beautiful old buildings.

Our first stop on our grand tour was the Hermitage museum. It's the second largest museum in all of Europe and houses the largest collection of Renoir paintings in the world. There's also an impressive collection of French Impressionist paintings including Monet and Van Gogh (who was Dutch but did his best works in France). It was founded by Catherine the Great in 1862 and is currently comprised of 5 buildings including the Winter Palace where the ruling Romanov tsars had their home in St. Petersburg. Our tour guide, Tanya, was incredibly knowledgeable about almost everything in the museum and took us on a path that avoided most of the other tour groups. Coupled with the museum opening an hour early to accommodate the many cruise tours, we had an experience few people get (as the museum becomes impossibly crowded during the summer).

The tour began in the main stairway of the Winter Palace and then curved through the official receiving and throne rooms of the tsars. Each room is filled with not only exquisite pieces of art including paintings, sculptures, and antique furniture, but the rooms themselves contain impressive gilding and floors. There was so much to look at it, but my personal favorites were the Impressionist paintings and the marble sculptures which looked ready to come to life at any moment.

Entrance to the Hermitage, aka, the Winter Palace

Grand Stairway of the Winter Palace

Rooms inside the Hermitage

The Three Graces, in the lobby of the Hermitage

We spent the entire morning wandering the rooms until after noon when we headed to a hotel for lunch. Russian food is very hardy, and we had a typical Russian meal which of course includes vodka. The first course was a light salad with raw salmon and caviar. The second course was a thick potato soup (which was delicious). The main course was chicken kiev, which as soon as you touched it with your knife and fork virtually exploded with butter and garlic and herbs. For dessert there was a thick cream with berries and as I said, vodka.

After lunch we spent the afternoon on a panoramic tour of St. Petersburg seeing the most famous sites such as St. Isaac's Cathedral,a Russian Orthodox Cathedral that took 40 years and 3 tsars to construct. It was also designed by a French architect and includes 48 columns weighing 114 tons. The interior reminded me a lot of St. Peter's Basilica in Rome, but with even more icons and mosaics. We also got a look at one of St. Petersburg's most famous landmarks: the Church of Spilled Blood. It's coloful exterior and onion shaped domes are quintessentially Russian and it's now the first thing that comes to mind when I think of the city (you should google it--seriously).

St. Isaac's Cathedral

Statue of Peter the Great with the dome of St. Issac's in the background

Church of Spilled Blood

After some time shopping (where I got some Russian nesting dolls--so cute!) we were back on the bus for the ride back to the ship. When I write it out like this it doesn't seem like very full day, but trust me--it was a long day.

Coming up next: St. Petersburg Day 2, with even more palaces!

Traditional Fish-Schlapping Song

2011-09-20T07:00:00.000-04:00

This post is not as long or as exciting as most of the others. Simply because we didn't spend a lot of time in Helsinki.

We hadn't booked an excursion for this one; there wasn't really anything that grabbed our attention and we figured we'd be ok walking around on our own. The cruise company operated a shuttle from the port to the city center, and everything about our plan worked perfectly. Except for the pouring rain. Literally, it poured rain the entire time. But we did get a nice feel for the city.

I'll tell you what really kept us going was singing this song from Monty Python's Spamalot:

We walked down one of the main streets to the city's old center, called Senate Square. There's a large cathedral (Lutheran) and the old government buildings. We then walked through the market square where there are lots of street vendors selling food and crafts. It was nice, but again, the rain made it all kind of a bummer. On the way back to the shuttle we managed to do some shopping--and found a three story shoe store--but we probably only spent two hours at most in the city. One interesting point: while walking around we noticed packs of students acting strangely, dressed weird (in animal costumes and like clowns) and some off behavior. When we finally asked the bus attendant what was going on, we learned it was the initiation day for the freshman university students, when they have to wear costumes and perform tasks all over the city assigned by the upperclassmen in their colleges.

Lutheran Cathedral and statute

Park in downtown Helsinki

Sweden, ya.

2011-09-19T15:08:00.006-04:00

Our first real stop on the cruise was in Stockholm, Sweden. Now, I say "real stop" because the ship actually docked on its second full day in a small town called Warnemunde in Germany. There wasn't much to do around there; it's really just used as a gateway to Berlin, but since that required a three hour train ride each way, we decided to pass. We had signed up for a Segway tour of Warnemunde, but that tour was canceled due to "lack of interest." Basically, nobody else on the entire ship had signed up for that tour so it was canceled.

Since we no longer had a tour lined up, I basically treated the Germany stop as another day at sea--relaxing and not doing much. I did get off the ship and walk around the port town for a bit, but not a lot. Napping seemed a higher priority.

So the first real stop for me on the cruise was Stockholm! Before actually arriving at Stockholm, the ship had to travel through Sweden's archipelago islands--24,000 of them to be exact that were formed in the most recent Ice Age. They are beautiful and dotted with summer homes and chalets that can only be reached by private boat. The captain opened the helipad (which is located at the very front of the ship) so we could go out and watch the ship sail through the islands. Several of the ship's officers (and a crew member dressed as a viking) were also out there and posing for pictures with the guests.

After taking some pictures of our trip through the islands and grabbing some breakfast at the buffet, we headed down to check-in for our shore excursion. This time we had booked an excursion called "Sweet Stockholm" that included a tour of the city with a stop at a chocolate shop for a tasting of various Swedish chocolates. When we went to our meeting place and went to check-in for our tour, Chris noticed that there were only 3 tour number stickers (you wear the number of your tour on your shirt so the crew and tour guide know where you belong). He asked if we were the last 3 people to check-in for the tour and the guy looked at him and said "Actually, you're the only 3."

Here's the deal: we were the only people to sign up for this tour. But since we had the same circumstance for our German Segway tour and they had canceled that one, the shore excursion staff felt bad canceling our tour for a second time in a row. So they left the tour going and we ended up with a private tour!

It became something of a joke; we were tour number 22 and we spent the rest of the day saying things like, "Ok, everyone try to keep up!" "Do we have everyone? Look around and make sure everyone made it back to the bus!" I am sure this wore thin with the tour guide, but we had a great time. Our tour guide and driver (named Hans, OF COURSE) was somewhat surprised that we had such a small group, but it worked out for the best since it's always easier to talk to 3 people than it is 30.

Tour 22, where are you?

After boarding our van and meeting our tour guide and driver, we set out for Stockholm! The city is actually located on a series of 14 islands that are connected by 57 bridges. It's called the Venice of the North and while it doesn't have canals per se, the Baltic Sea flows all throughout the city. Our tour started with a drive through the city with the tour guide pointing out some of the more important points (such as various museums and government buildings) and then we drove to the chocolate shop.

The shop was called Chokladfabriken and they had a whole tasting area prepared for us. The young lady from the shop told us all about how chocolate is made, and we tried some basic white chocolate, milk chocolate, and dark chocolate to get started. Then the fun part! They had 9 different truffles prepared for us with all kinds of exotic ingredients randing from ginger, tea, and a sea salt caramel with licorice flavor. It was all delicious and was over much too quickly.

Looking out over one of Stockholm"s islands

In the chocolate shop!

Our chocolate spread

It was then back on the bus as we traveled to the Gamla Stan; the oldest part of Stockholm founded in the early 1200s. Cobblestone streets are lined with shops and (expensive) old town homes as well as numerous churches and squares. The Gamla Stan is also home to the Royal Palace; Sweden has a constitutional monarchy and let me just tell you, their royals are VERY good looking people. Seriously, google them. Tall and attractive, just the way a monarchy should be.

We strolled with our tour guide through the Gamla Stan and saw some beautiful buildings and heard lots of stories of Sweden's history. We then had some time to wander about and do some shopping. Our tour guide, who of course became instantly enamoured with us probably for the reason that we were 1) fun and 2) under the age of 80 bought us some Swedish sweetcakes from a lovely little pastry shop near the Royal Palace.

A square inside the Gamla Stan

Shopping in the Gamla Stan

Posing with a statute of a Swedish troubadour

At that point, there was just enough time to drive back to the port before the ship left rather early for our journey to Helsinki, Finland! Once we were back on the ship, we went to a comedy magic show which was actually very good and better than expected. My experience with cruises thus far has been that the main shows are kind of unbearable, but the side acts are always really enjoyable. Then it was off to dinner (we had the second seating at 8:30) and then Chris and I played some craps in the casino. Right when we finished playing the cruise director, a lovely older British woman named Sue, walked by and we chased her down the hall (literally) and stopped her and invited her and the Hotel Director to dinner.

More on that later--since we ended up having quite the relationship with the Hotel Director on the ship. But I don't want to get ahead of myself....coming up tomorrow: Helsinki, Finland!

2011-09-18T09:30:00.009-04:00

After 6 days of traveling on our own it was time to hit the ship! We were all excited to get the chance to indulge in some ultimate laziness (nobody more than Kent), but first we had to get to the cruise terminal, which is located about a 10 minute walk east of the Centraal Station.

Our trip onto the ship was something of an adventure. Despite willing to go on vacation practically every month, it has become something of a joke how cheap my friend Chris is when it comes to taking cabs. Since we still had time on our 24 hour tram access card, instead of simply taking a cab to the cruise passenger terminal, we dragged our suitcases the three blocks to the tram stop where Chris assured us we could take the #25 all the way to the terminal. The trouble began as we were pulling our suitcases; it began to rain. Once we got on the #25 we found out that it wasn't in fact going to the terminal, which would mean we would need to take a bus or walk 15 minutes from Centraal Station. AND THEN. Before we got to the station, the tram in front of us was hit by a small truck, and we were kicked off the tram along with all our luggage. As it was now pouring rain, we FINALLY convinced Chris to
take a cab to the terminal and the rest of our journey was completed without incident.

Getting onto the ship itself was relatively painless. You hand off your baggage to one of the many porters waiting at the front of the terminal (the cruise company provides pre-labeled luggage tags that you put on before you get to the terminal). You are then handed a boarding number and go through a check-in process similar to an airline. I would say within 30 minutes we were on the ship in our cabin and our bags arrived only a few hours later.

These first few days on the ship have been quite relaxing, a welcome change from our sight-seeing in Iceland and Amsterdam. We started off with a day at sea while we travelled to Germany (specifically the port at Wernemunde). Many people had booked excursions into Berlin that required a three hour train ride each way, but we had gone with a more relaxed Segway tour of the port town. Unfortunately, our tour was unceremoniously cancelled (maybe due to lack of interest?) and so we just kind of wandered around and enjoyed the sunshine and cool breeze for a few hours. Then we had another day at sea which basically involves laying around, participating in some activities (such as a lecture about the history of St.Petersburg, Russia) and relaxing.

Compared to the other cruises I have been on, which were with the more budget cruise line Carnival, I can definitely tell a difference being on Celebrity. The ship is smaller and the food, rooms, and shows are of a better quality. But don't get me wrong: being a cruise ship the entertainment show are still extremely cheesy. But that's part of the draw (for some people).

There were many performance groups on the ship including an a capella men's quartet (called Lemon Squeezy--you can find them on Facebook), a classical trio, party band, DJ, guitarist, and piano bar player/singer. And of course, there are the Celebrity Constellation dancers and singers who put on such shows as the Salute to Hollywood. They are really talented, but oh my goodness it was cheesy. We only made it to that one main-stage show, it was just too much ridiculousness for me to handle--at least while sober.

Another great thing about cruise ships (and why a lot of people go on them) is the food. For those of you who haven't been on the cruise, let me lay it out for you. Every night, there is a sit-down dinner in the main dining room. You sign up for an earlier or later seating when you buy the cruise, and eat at the same table with the same waiter staff through the cruise. Usually, you have random people assigned to your table, ad while Chris, Kent, and I sat at an eight person table, our assigned seatmates never showed up. Maybe it was something we said.

For breakfast and lunch there is open seating in the dining room, but most people go to the 24 hour buffet where you have more options and more flexibility. You have your standard buffet food, but also a grill with burgers and fries etc. and special late night offerings. The reason why so many people gain weight cruises is because there is always plentiful and free food to be had no matter the time of day. Thank goodness they also have a really good gym and even an outdoor running track that I was able to take advantage of...at least until I busted my ankle.

There are also two specialty restaurants on the ship: one French, one Italian. There was a $25 charge to eat at these, but they offered two 20% off nights that we took advantage of. Both times we ate at the Italian one and the food was AMAZING. Totes worth it.

Even though our assigned dinner partners didn't show up, we did meet some nice people who decided to randomly sit at our table one night. Two older couples from South Africa who have been extensive world travelers (and are Jewish!). One of the ladies is one of the premiere South African diva opera singers and we got along with them all famously. We met up with them for drinks on several occasions and would often bump into them around the ship.

Coming up next: Stockholm, Sweden!

The Celebrity Constellation

Our stateroom aboard the ship, the couch in the back opened into my bed.

Chris orders dinner in the main dining room with our head waiter, Bobby

The dessert spread at the special Sunday brunch (note the ice sculpture)

Me doing my best bathing beauty impression at the indoor pool

Our South African friends at the martini bar

Our main dining room water staff: Bobby (from Indian), Tarjeche (from Macedonia), and Peggy (from Nicaragua)

Out waitstaff at the specialty restuarant, the Tuscan Grill. Mustafa (a giant flirt) and Sennon.

Stop and smell the sunflowers

2011-09-17T18:24:00.014-04:00

On our third day in Amsterdam, we finally had some sunshine. Our first sight-seeing stop that morning was the Museumplein (meaning museum square) a large park-like area bordered by some of Amsterdam's finest museums. We headed to the Van Gogh (as the Dutch say, Van Kkkkkokh) museum on the north side where the 200 paintings owned by Vincent Van Gogh's brother, Theo, are housed. As with the Anne Frank House, we had bought advanced tickets and were able to skip the sizable line and go right into the museum.

Here's a little blurb from my Rick Steve's travel guide about Van Gogh and his art: "You could see Vincent Van Gogh's canvases as a series of suicide notes--or as the record of a life full of beauty...perhaps too full of beauty. He attacked life with a passion, experiencing highs and lows more intensely than the average person. The beauty of the world overwhelmed him; its ugliness struck him as only another dimension of beauty. He tried to absorb all of life, good and bad, and channel it into a canvas, and the frustration of this overwhelming task drove him to madness. If all this is a bit overstated--and I guess it is--it's an attempt to show the emotional impact that Van Gogh's works have had on so many people, me included."

The museum is laid out chronologically with Van Gogh's earlier works in the Netherlands first moving into his time in Paris. His first paintings focused on the reality of peasant life and were painted with dark somber colors. The style was crude, but Van Gogh's technique of applying thick paint was still clear. When Van Gogh went to Paris in 1886 he began to experiment more with the impressionist style and began to perfect his own techniques: thicker paint, broad swirling brush-strokes and bright clashing colors that "made his subject pulse with life" (example: Starry Night). Unfortunately, his mental stability also began to fluctuate and after mutilating his own ear with a knife during a fight with Gauguin (whom he shared a studio with briefly), he checked himself into a mental hospital in May 1889. When he left a year later in May 1890 he moved back to Paris, but in July walked into a field and shot himself in the chest. He died several days later.

Walking through the museum left me with a huge sense of sadness. Here was one of the most brilliant artists of all time, but he only sold one painting during his lifetime and eventually became so despondent that he saw no other recourse but to end his own life. How different would our culture be if Van Gogh had lived and painted through a full lifetime? There is no way to know...but wastefulness of any kind makes me sad, especially the waste of such talent.

The Van Gogh Museum

Concert Hall on the Museumplein

After spending the morning at the museum, we grabbed a quick lunch from a hot dog vendor. In case you didn't know, they are mad about hot dogs in nothern europe. In Iceland you couldn't go 3 feet without tripping over someplace selling hot dogs and the trend continued in the Netherlands. I'm not sure what it is about them (the cheap price? the easy portability?) but they sure love them.

Chris and I then decided to follow the self-guided Amsterdam City Walk described by Rick Steve in the guidebook and for the first time in our three days in the city fully immerse ourselves in the history and story of Amsterdam.

Rick Steve will guide us through Amsterdam!

The walk began outside the Centraal Station, which was built in the early 1800s during the city's economic revival. It's of the neo-gothic style and directly ahead lies the Damrak, the main street of the city. The area along the Damrak and in front of Centraal Station is known as the Times Square of Amsterdam, due to its hustle and bustle and also, of course, for the number of tourists and tourist traps.

As you walk along the Damrak, on the left you pass over the Amstel River which is now channeled into canals throughout the city. The next stop is the stock exchange (Beurs). The old building was constructed of nine million bricks (and 5,000 tree trunks hammered into the marshy ground) in 1903. Stocks used to mean anything that could be loaded or unloaded unto a boat, and this was where Amsterdamers always came to trade, even before the building was constructed. The architect who built the stock exchange was a famous socialist, and in a triptych frieze above the door, indicated that capitalists and brokers would lead to disaster in the future. Not exactly the message the stock exchange would want to send out, but whatcha gonna do?

Amstel River (looking towards Centraal Station)

The triptych above the stock exchange; the last panel shows people being crushed by capitalism.

Next down the Damrak, you hit Dam Square the cultural and political center of the city. On one side is the Royal Palace. It was constructed in 1650 and was used as a Town Hall, but got its current name in the 1880s when Holland was invaded by the French and Napoleon named his brother Louis king. The Netherlands currently has a monarchy--but it's in the British style where the King or Queen is the symbolic head of state (and not the head of government). The current queen, Queen Beatrix, uses the Royal Palace as her official residence when in Amsterdam. She normally lives at the Hague. Not too shabby, eh?

In the middle of Dam Square is a National Monument shaped as an obelisk depicting a crucified Christ, men in chains, and howling dogs. It was constructed in 1956 as a WWII memorial and is considered a monument for peace. The Nazis occupied Holland from 1940 to 1945 and deported and murdered over 100,000 Amsterdam Jews (including Anne Frank and most of her family).

The tour then took us down the pedestrian-only street, Kalverstraat, which is loaded with cheesy shops. There are some cool sights though; one of which is the "hidden" Catholic Church. In the late 1500s when the Protestant Reformation took control of the country, Catholicism began illegal and although it is now legalized, the Catholic churches in town keep a low profile. The church is called hidden because it's an unmarked row house between a McDonalds and H&M and you would literally never know it was there unless you were looking for it.

Royal Palace

Dam Square and the memorial

Dam Square looking towards the Royal Palace (the memorial would be at your back)

Kalverstraat

Another hidden treasure off the Kalverstraat is the Begijnhof, a beautiful courtyard lined with houses and a church that has been used as a woman's shelter since 1346. The Beguines were women who removed themselves from society and dedicated their lives to God--but were not nuns. The church on the side of the courtyard is called the English Reformed Church and is where the Pilgrims on the Mayflower stopped to pray before beginning their overseas voyage to Plymouth Rock. A stained glass window in the middle of the sanctuary commemorates the Pilgrims' visit.

Courtyard of the Reformed Church in the Begijnhof

Homes in the Begijnhof

By this time, our feet were pretty much shot, so we headed back to the houseboat for a little R&R. For dinner, we headed back towards Centraal Station and the Central Library which is located next door. Believe it or not, the library has a great cafeteria-style restaurant at the top terrace and the best view of the city.

Coming up next: we board the ship and enjoy some lazy days at sea! Also, I try not to eat so much that I swell to the size of a beluga whale. Mission somewhat accomplished.

Anne Frank and High Tea

2011-09-16T11:53:00.011-04:00

One of the things I love about our trip here in Amsterdam is that we took a more relaxed view of sight-seeing. We definitely saw a lot of stuff, but we didn't embark on day-long trips that left us exhausted (we learned lessons from our Mediterranean trip). We just went at a more leisurely pace and had plenty of time to chill on our houseboat (de boot as we called it).

We got started on Wednesday by heading to the Anne Frank house, located on the west side of central Amsterdam near the trendy Jordaan district (more on that later). The museum is one of Amsterdam's most popular attractions and the line to get in the door can stretch down the block and last for hours. BUT. Because we had done our homework we knew that you could buy tickets in advance online. This allowed us to skip the line and go to a separate entrance. You just ring a bell, go inside and show your tickets to a person at a counter, and go right in. Easy peasy.

So Anne Frank: she and her parents and older sister emigrated to Amsterdam from Germany in 1933, the year the Nazis gained power in Germany. As The Netherlands were more accepting of Jews and had a good economy, it seemed the perfect place for Otto Frank to move his business and take his family. However, in 1940 Germany invaded Amsterdam and the Franks began trapped by the Nazi occupation. As the persecution of the Jews intensified Otto made plans to hide his family in a secret annex at the back of his shop and warehouse (most buildings in Amsterdam had these "secret" rooms, but the Nazis didn't know and so didn't suspect anything at the beginning of the occupation. In July 1942, Anne's sister, Margot, got her work orders to report to a work camp (i.e. concentration camp) so the family went into hiding in the secret annex where they would remain for two years.

The house itself is very unassuming on the street. It looks like any other house, but the museum was clever and purchased the two buildings next door so the outside off Anne's home could remain as it was in the 1940s. You enter from the building at the end of the block and then work your way through the Anne Frank house. First, you start on the ground floor and first floors which were used by Otto Frank as his store front and warehouse (he sold wholesale herbs and spices). On the second floor, you walk behind the moving bookcase used to hide the entrance into the annex and into Anne's world. The Franks inhabited 3 rooms in the annex (and shared the overall space with another family--a mom, dad, and their teeenage son).

There was a common dining/living room and kitchen, and several bedrooms. All 8 people in the house shared one bathroom. All the windows were blacked out and the family lived without sunlight for 2 years. Otto Frank's employees helped them by bringing food, supplies, and keeping people away from the entrance to the annex. During the day, the Franks had to be as quiet as possible; they could not speak above a whisper, had to avoid all squeaky parts of the floor, and were not permitted to flush the toilet. Anne had always been an aspiring journalist and writer, and one of the reasons she kept her diary was because she was aware of the importance of chronicling her experience. She also planned to write a novel based on her experiences in hiding called The Secret Annex.

Going through the Anne Frank House was very emotional and gave me a new perspective on the holocaust. We usually look at WWII and the extermination of the Jews through such a large lens: looking at the millions of people killed, the countries where the entire Jewish population was wiped out, etc. But in the Anne Frank House you are looking at the very personal experience of just 8 people; as you move through the rooms that comprised their home for 2 years, you have a laser focus on the different kind of horror the war wrought and aren't just dealing with numbers. You feel close to the flesh and blood people who lived there and can't help but imagine yourself in their situation. Anne's diaries themselves were also on display, as were Anne's notebooks that contained her many short stories, the beginning of her novel, and her favorite quotes and passages from other books.

In August 1944, working off a tip from a person still unknown, the Nazis found the annex and arrested all 8 inhabitants. The Franks were processed by the Germans, split up, and sent to different concentration camps. Anne was eventually sent to the camp Bergen-Belsen where she died of typhus in March 1945, only a few weeks before the camp was liberated by British troops. Of the entire Frank family, Otto, the father, was the only one to survive the war. He was given Anne's diaries and other notebooks by a friend who found them in the annex after the family was taken by the Germans, and spent the rest of his life seeing that they were published so people could learn and perhaps one day understand what had happened to his family.

The actual Anne Frank House (the museum also encompasses another three row houses on the right)

Original door to Otto Frank's store (and the house with the Secret Annex)

The block and canal of the Anne Frank House (you can see the people lined up on the street to get into the museum).

That's enough serious stuff for one email, right? After the Anne Frank House, I needed a break from the emotional so I decided to go for a stroll through the Jordaan (my guidebook included a walking tour with info on the area). The Jordaan (pronounced yor-dahn) is kind of like the Old Town Alexandria of Amsterdam--it's full of yuppies, hippies, and hipstirs and is the trendy shopping and cafe area. It's quiet, beautiful and was a great place to finish off the morning. Especially when it started pouring rain and I ducked into a cafe for some hot chocolate.

Chris and Kent outside a coffee house in the Jordaan.

Houses in the Jordaan--notice the different shapes of the gables and if you squint your eyes you can see that there are hooks hanging from the top. People use these to hoist large furniture up through the upper windows. Clever!

After wandering around the Jordaan (and buying some chocolate at a little shop), I headed back in the direction of our houseboat to pay a visit to the Museum of Bags and Purses. Amsterdam has more museums per capita than almost any other city in Europe and many of them are very specialized. The Museum of Bags and Purses is exactly that: a small museum that traces the history of handbags from the sixteenth century.

It was fascinating to see how purses have changed according to need, and they had some very unusual old and modern items. Chris and Kent weren't super interested in going through the museum (they are boys after all),but they did meet up with me at 3:00 for high tea in the museum cafe. We were seated in a lushly decorated dining room with murals and gilding, and were served sandwiches, a selection of pastries, quiche, and of course, tea. It was a very relaxing way to spend the afternoon,especially since it was so rainy, and we felt very posh.

Outside the Museum of Bags and Purses

Purse made from an armadillo (those are the legs wrapping around the edge), circa 1800s (I think).

The Museum tea room

Our dessert spread

After tea we headed back to the houseboat to relax a bit. Because tea had come so late in the day, we didn't really need anything for dinner, but we struck out again that evening for our Red Light District tour, since it had been rained out the night before. Luckily, the sky cleared right before our tour and we had our first taste of Amsterdam's famous Red Light District!

It was certainly as advertised; prostitutes stand in windows framed by red neon lights trying to entice one of the roving bands of randy young men. There's something for everyone: girls of different ages and nationalities, transvestites, and homosexuals. Surrounding the windows are streets of sex shops, movie theaters, bars, and coffee houses (coffee houses are where you buy pot). But here's the thing: it didn't feel really sketchy. In fact, it reminded my a lot of any party area of a city, think Adams Morgan in DC or Bourbon Street in New Orleans. Just with prostitutes. The entire area is also becoming extremely gentrified as the Red Light District houses many of the oldest buildings in Amsterdam and the rich people are starting to move in. Our tour guide estimated that in the next 10 years many of the seedy parts of the area would be gone.

I have to admit that I was kind of uncomfortable walking around there, but not because of the overt sexuality on display. The best I can equate it to is when you go into a shop just to look at the wares, but you don't intend to buy anything and the pushy salespeople are coming over to you "can I help you can I help you can I help you" and you feel SO AWKWARD. It was kind of like that. You've got these young women just trying to make a living and here I am in a tour group just wandering by. Weird. But the Red Light District is certainly part of the Amsterdam experience and you've got to do it!

Coming up next: the Van Gogh Museum, and a walking tour of the city itself!

Iceland...to Amsterdam!

2011-09-15T08:15:00.010-04:00

Traveling from Iceland to Amsterdam was basically hassle-free...except it was quite an early morning. Our flight departed the Reykjavik airport at 8 in the morning, so we had a 5:30 pick-up from the shuttle that would take us to the bus terminal where we would then catch a bus to the airport. Another great thing about Iceland: because it's so small, all your tours, even the shuttle to get to the bus station, will pick you up right outside your hotel. I guess I'm just used to having to schlep myself and all my crap miles to get anywhere, so it's quite nice having door to door service. However, because I am a worrier and having the bus shuttle come pick me up seems like such a foreign thing, I spent most of the night worried that the shuttle would be late or just not show up, but at 5:29 there it came, right around the corner, and picked us up in front of our hotel. God, I love Iceland.

Here are some final random pics of Iceland:

This picture was taken at about 9:30 at night. Sun still going strong!

This was the name of our street in Reykjavik. Please don't ask me to try to pronounce it.

Our second morning in Iceland it was rainy and cold (about 40 degrees). I told Kent I would give him some Icelandic krona if he would run around the street with his shirt off. Clearly, he did it.

We had no problems at the airport or during the flight, and it seemed like a good sign that the breakfast in the airport cafe cost the EXACT amount of Icelandic currency I had remaining. From there it was just a hop, skip, and a jump to Amsterdam! Well, a 2.5 hour hop, skip, and a jump but you know what I mean.

After our arrival in Amsterdam we ran into a tiny problem concerning money. In Europe, they use debit cards that are called a "chip and pin" card. So called because they contain a microchip and a PIN number, but they work just like our debit cards--allowing people to pay for purchases or withdraw money from an ATM. The problem is that American debit cards don't have the chip, so they are not usable in the European machines. After striking out at an ATM and being unable to use our cards to purchase a train ticket at the self-service kiosk or teller, we tried a second ATM and success! We had Euros and were ready to head into downtown Amsterdam.

Amsterdam is fascinating and beautiful city--the whole thing is below sea level and is built on wooden pylons to keep it from sinking into the Amstel River. The river itself is channeled through a series of canals throughout the city, and despite what I had heard, the city does not smell weird because the canal water is flushed out every several days.I was kind of afraid the whole place would smell like pee.

The city's hey day was in the seventeenth century--when the Dutch ruled supreme economically thanks to the East India Company. This Golden Age led to a huge boom of building in Amsterdam (as it became the banking center of the western world) and many of the houses and other buildings in the city date from this period. Lining the streets and canals are tall row houses with ornate decorations, gables, and beautiful details. Think Old Town Alexandria but bigger and better.

Typical Amsterdam street---houses line the canals with one-way streets (going opposite directions) on each side.

The starting point for every tour and city center itself is the Centraal Station, the central train station. From this point you can catch trams, buses, or boats anywhere into the city and the main streets (including the Dam--pronounced Dahm) end at the central station. Upon our arrival we hopped on the Number 4 tram and rode about 2 miles down the Dam to the stop nearest the management office of our houseboat.

Did I mention we rented a houseboat?

We figured you can stay in a hotel or apartment anywhere...but how many places can you actually rent a houseboat?

The management people assured us that the houseboat was only a few canals (i.e. blocks) away. But it's not just a true vacation until Chris makes me drag my luggage halfway across a European city (remember, we did that in Reykjavik too). And due to map-reading snafu (we were heading down the wrong canal), it took us about 30 minutes to get to our houseboat. We were hot, sweaty, and irritated, but when we finally arrived we couldn't more pleased.

The houseboats in Amsterdam are almost all converted cargo ships, so they are large, spacious, and have cement floors. Ours was decorated in a pseudo-Moroccan style with low to the ground soft couches, cool wrought-iron lamps and chandeliers, and an open floor plan. Oh, and portholes of course. It couldn't be more comfortable and the extra bathroom was a welcome surprise.

Centraal Station

Our houseboat on the Keizersgracht canal.

Interior of the houseboat...not too shabby!

After settling in, we decided to strike out and check out the neighborhood. We walked around and discovered we were in a quiet but charming area surrounded by funky shops and a cafe on every corner. We were scheduled to go on a tour of the Red Light District that night, but since it was pouring rain, the tour got canceled and instead we did a bit of wandering on our own and stocked up on groceries for the houseboat. We might have have made a quick stop into one of the famous Amsterdam coffee houses and indulged in a bit of local fun...but that's a story for a blog that my family doesn't read.

Coming up next: The Anne Frank House, the Jordaan neighborhood, and high tea at the Museum of Bags and Purses!

Ankle Gate 2011

2011-09-14T17:33:00.004-04:00

We interrupt our regularly scheduled vacation coverage to bring you this breaking news:

Maggie is a clutz and managed to not only fall, but also injury herself on her vacation.

SHOCKER!

I'll give you a minute to catch your breath due to the surprise.

Yeah, that was sarcasm, because if you know me AT ALL you know that I fall all the time. It is pretty rare however for me to actually hurt myself beyond a bruise. But this time I really managed to screw the pooch.

Let me set the stage: there I was on the cruise ship enjoying an amazing dinner of Italian food at the specialty restaurant on board. We were between the first and second courses (meaning I had just finished my beef ravioli and was waiting for my arugula and mozzarella salad) and I had to pee. And not just pee, but pee like woah. 2 glasses of wine, water, and a cocktail will do that to you. I also had to take the elevator down to another level to get to the bathroom, so when I got to the bathroom I was in a hurry.

That was my downfall.

I remember opening the door, walking in quickly, making note of the woman mopping the floor, hearing her say "be careful the floor is very we--" and that is when I wiped out. Full on, slide out, ankle slamming into the stall. I hopped back up, played it off, did my business, but I knew something was wrong. Because my ankle hurt. Not just "ow I hurt my ankle" but "HOLY SHIT WHAT DID I JUST DO."

I walked back up to the table (I could still walk ok so that was promising) and finished dinner. However, at the end of dinner I leaned down to feel my ankle....and yeah, it was swollen to about three times the normal size.

I spent the rest of the night with ice on my ankle and it propped up on some pillows. Luckily, I could still walk on it, but for the rest of trip a rather spectacular bruise appeared that just seemed to worsen as the days went on (this happened the Saturday before my return to DC the following Thursday). Since there didn't seem to be real improvement, I started to get worried and the morning after my return to town I got my ass to the Urgent Care Center and had an X-ray.

The good news? My ankle wasn't broken--hurray! Although I wasn't too surprised since I had been walking around on it for almost a week. But I did have a bad sprain and a small possibility of a ligament tear (which would SUCK), but if I took it easy for a week and didn't run for two weeks I should be fine. I am now pretty sure I don't have a ligament tear because there has been a lot of improvement the past couple days.

The worst thing about all this is how it's impacting my 5K training. I finally got myself to 3 miles on the treadmill and was planning to begin my outdoor training as soon as I got back from vacation. But now I will have been out of the game for 3 weeks--not good when my race is coming up at the end of October. I have been still getting to the gym though; I can use the stationary bike, elliptical machine, and weights so I haven't been a total waste of space. But I am still pretty nervous.

But now the good part: a picture! Warning, this shows some pretty bad bruising, so if you don't want to see it...don't look.

This was taken on Sunday (4 days ago). It's much better now, I promise. You can see all the yellow and green of the bruise, ew. The dark part near the bottom of the foot was actually bleeding into the tissue from the injury, which is what made them think I might have a ligament tear. Luckily, I think I dodged that bullet!

Super Jeep FTW

2011-09-13T07:47:00.012-04:00

Our last day in Iceland was mostly dedicated to another day-long tour. This time we were headed south, and had booked something a little more off the beaten trail. Literally. We would be traveling in what is called a "Super Jeep," basically an SUV that has been given giant tires which allow for off-roading and trekking down bumpy rows inaccessible to standard motor vehicles. The tours allow for, at most, 6 people and we ended up with our own car and private tour guide. Aren't we fancy?

Me and the Super Jeep

We got picked up right on time at 8:45 and headed out of the city. Our first stop was to a waterfall called Uridafoss, which has the largest volume of water of any waterfall in Iceland. In order to access it, you need to go down a bumpy gravel road and there's no way our bus from yesterday could have handled it. Score one for the Super Jeep! Unfortunately, it was really cold and rainy (about 45 degrees) so after a quick photo-op we ran back to the car and headed to our next stop.

The upper falls of Uridafoss

Chris and I shivering in front of the falls. I don't think Kent even got out of the car for this one. He is a delicate flower.

The next part of our tour was one of the most interesting. After traveling on the highway we turned onto a deserted gravel back road that wound its way around the volcano, Eyjafjallajokull. You'll probably recognize the name (but don't try to get me to say it) as it was the volcano that erupted last year and shut down air traffic to most of Europe due to the ash. While driving to the volcano we went through miles and miles of green farmland which had been completely covered with a huge ash cloud for months. In an example of Icelandic ingenuity, firemen from all over the country (as well as other farmers) all came together to help clean up the mess, from public and private areas.

Fording the river on the way to Eyjafjallajokull (the water is all glacial melt from the volcano)

I jumped out of the car for a quick shot of our driver being badass.

Scenery on the way to the volcano (the waterfalls are melting from the....)

.....glacial cap!

But back to the road! It would have been impossible to navigate without our huge tires, in fact we passed a few regular rental cars that had become mired in the river shallows, dips, and gravel because they weren't equipped for it. Suckers. We circled around the volcano (and passed many beautiful waterfalls) and drove as close to the base as was safe to get pictures. It's not possible to get too close, as the volcano is surrounded by loose sand which can swallow cars and people. On top of the volcano, or at least as far up as was possible to see due to the mist and clouds, there is a huge glacier. Later that afternoon we would circle around to the other side of the volcano and actually touch the glacier!

The front of Eyjafjallajokull

After taking our pics and staring in slack-jawed wonder for a few minutes, we headed back down the same treacherous road and visited another waterfall, Seljalandsfoss. This one falls from an impressive height and has a rocky steep path around the back, where you can look out into the lowlands from the base. It was a little scary, but my rock-scrambling skills from hiking in Las Vegas came in handy and we navigated it without too much trouble.

Seljalandsfoss

That's actually me standing on a rock directly behind the waterfall. It was wet, but awesome!

From the waterfall, we drove toward a black sand beach on the Arctic Sea. One of the coolest moments of the whole trip: we were driving down a gravel road when all of a sudden our driver just veers off onto the sand and starts off-roading. For some of you that may not seem too exciting, but trust me, it was awesome. On the beach was the skeleton of an old US Navy airplane that had crash-landed. We also saw some whale bones that had been on the beach for many years. The black beach itself was very cool, but I have to say my favorite part of the experience was just driving right off the road and across the sand. We felt invincible!

Black sand beach.

Goobers.

Looking towards the glacier (our next stop) from the black sand beach.

Down the road from the beach (and by down the road I mean about 30 minutes) it was just a hop, skip, and a jump to another impassable gravel road to the glacier tongue Solheimajokull. This glacier comes down from the top of the volcano and you literally walk right up to it and take tours, walk, snowmobile, or be a little lame like us and just touch it. In our defense, the whole thing is a huge piece of ice and y'all know how much trouble I have on solid ground. But touching an actual glacier is probably my favorite thing of the day.

In front of the glacial tongue.

The glacier!

Looking across the glacier.

Our final stop was another waterfall (you basically can't walk anywhere in Iceland without tripping over a waterfall), Skogarfoss. This was the tallest one of the day, and I was able to walk right down to the base of the poll where the water hits. I was doing really well too until a sudden gust of wind blew the spray all over me, but hey, that's why God invented waterproof jackets. Besides, I had a two hour drive back to Reykjavik and my pants totally dried by the time we got back. Heh.

This is the closest I dared use my camera, but I really walked right up to where the spray is coming from. Look at me, I'm an adrenaline junkie!

One of the most surreal moments of the day came during the ride back to Reykjavik. We were all kind of tired, wet, and starting to get a bit grumpy, so the tour guide switched on the radio. The first song? Taio Cruz's "Dynamite." I'm not sure I've ever experienced that amount of cognitive dissonance before: here we were, driving past volcanoes and glaciers in a country halfway across the world and we were all singing (including the tour guide) about throwing our hands in the air sometimes. And then as soon as the English dance song ended, the radio hosts start chattering in Icelandic. Weird. But fun!

Some final notes on Iceland: it's pretty much the ideal summer getaway. The temperature is cool (we did get up to 55 on the last day and the sky eventually cleared) and everyone speaks English. The people couldn't be nicer, and since it's so small, even Reykjavik, nothing ever gets really crowded and you have plenty of yummy restaurants. You can also get up close and personal with the sights; there's not a lot of fences or restraints between you and the waterfalls and geysers. Our tour guide told us that Icelanders believe in Darwinism: if you are dumb enough to get so close to the edge, you're asking to get hurt. You get some low-slung ropes to establish the limits of what's safe, but after that you are pretty much on your own and expected to use your judgment. Since Icelanders are so practical, it's not very hard for them. Tourists however...well, we didn't see anyone fall off a waterfall, but some people did get drenched by the geysers.

We're already thinking ahead to our next Iceland trip (we didn't get to see the Northern Lights or the northern fjords) but now it's onwards and downwards to Amsterdam.

The Golden Circle

2011-09-12T10:52:00.012-04:00

For our second day in Iceland, we embarked on the famous "Golden Circle" tour. This is the most popular day-long tour in Iceland and one almost every tourist who comes here goes on it.

But before we get to that...

Some notes on Reykjavik (pronounced rake-ya-vek) and Iceland in general. First, everyone here speaks English. Education through the college level is free so the country has 99.98% literacy rate and 60% hold university degrees. That means there are about 2 people in the country who can't read. Heh. The average Icelander graduates college able to speak 4 languages and English is taught to everyone in school from the age of 10 (the other languages they learn are Norwegian (or another Scandinavian language and usually German, plus Icelandic of course). The popularity of English makes it very easy to visit here; if you have a question you can just ask anyone, and all menus and stores have English translations. There are even more English books in the shops than Icelandic!

Second, the people here are very nice and also very good looking. They make them tall and gorgeous here and the kids have the blondest hair I have ever seen!

Third, the food is not as bad as you've heard. While restaurants bill fare such as puffin, whale, and putrefied shark (don't ask) as "traditional" Icelandic fare, it's more of a scam to get tourists in. As our tour guide put it, "you don't see Icelanders sitting down to that at dinner." They're traditional in that they were eaten a long time ago, when Iceland was almost a third world country, but these days, the food is as various as it is in the US. People here are crazy about Thai, Italian, and steakhouses, and the food is generally hearty with a lot of seafood (fishing is the number one industry here). For example, at lunch yesterday we had a typical Icelandic meal of delicious lamb stew with veggies and some rolls. The stew was yummy and hit the spot on a chilly (summer) day.

Ok, so back to the tour. After a quick stop at the bakery across the street from our apartment for some breakfast, we were picked up by the mini-bus (which seats about 18 people) and met our driven Odinn. He was about our age, very knowledgeable, and didn't mind my asking questions and us cracking jokes the entire time. In fact, if we come back, we'll probably get him to give us some private tours. After driving around the city and grabbing our other tour members (we had a full bus) we headed out into the countryside.

As I described previously, the land around the city and airport is basically all lava fields--covered in dense, porous black rock. But once we went further north, we drove through the highlands which reminded me a lot of Scotland. Green and brown mountains jut into the sky, but after about 30 minutes they gave way to the lowlands, where all of Iceland's farms are located.

Thousands of years ago, the lowlands were actually the ocean floor and there's a clear break from the highlands and the lowlands where you can see where the ancient coast was.

Iceland is the largest volcanic island in the world and has over 200 volcanoes, 10 of which are characterized as very active. It's also located on the continental divide between North America and Eurasia so it has a lot of seismic activity. Apparently every 100 years or so they experience an earthquake measuring about 9 on the Richter scale. But all the structures in the country are built to specifically withstand such a quake, and during the most recent earthquake the only injury was a broken toe.

In this picture you can really see the transition from the highlands to the lowlands, and can also see how the highlands were once the coastal cliffs!

The country is powered with geothermal power, where they drill into pockets of pressurized steam down deep in the earth. One geothermal station produces enough electricity to power the entire country and is so automated it only requires two people to run it. Based on this information I have decided Iceland is the perfect place to wait out the zombie apocalypse. It also experiences 21 hours of sunlight in the summer (it finally got dark here around 11 at night) and all the food is organic, free-range, and has no preservatives. It may be a bit more expensive, but it is yummy!

Our first stop on the tour was a volcanic crater, Kerid. It has a lake at the bottom and is actually an implosion crater, formed when the volcano expelled its magma and then collapsed as the empty chamber could not support the weight of the cone. It's quite impressive and has been the site of several concerts utilizing a floating stage on the lake at the bottom.

Just take a few steps back...a few more...a few more...oops, too far!

After the crater and a quick pit stop, we traveled to a waterfall whose name I cannot remember or even hope to spell or pronounce. While not as large as the second waterfall on the tour, this one was still lovely and has the first salmon steps built in Iceland. The river didn't have any natural salmon, but it was stocked for sports fishermen and salmon steps were built to help the salmon get up the falls to spawn.

Salmon steps! For the lazy-ass salmon who can't be bothered to swim up the waterfall. Honestly. What is the world coming to?

Once we had experienced a warm-up waterfall, we were ready for the real thing. The Gulfoss waterfall (translated to Golden Falls) is one of the most popular tourist attractions in Iceland and is stunning. The falls have two main levels and the water falls into a crevice where it then winds its way down a canyon. If I remember our guide correctly, the falls, crevice, and canyon were formed during 5 days when a glacier quickly melted and then flooded the area; basically, the freezing water carved through the rock like a hot knife through butter. It's called the Golden Falls because when the sun hits the water at just the right angle the minerals in the water reflect and turn gold.

Soaking in the nature...

Our next stop (we had a lot of them, huh?) was to the spouting geysers! The largest is called Geysir and was actually the first geyser known to the western world. Turns out all the others are named after it. But it doesn't spout that often, so the real highlight is the geyser Strokkur which spouts every 3-7 minutes. This ended up being a lot more impressive than we were expecting, and Chris has said it was his favorite thing about Iceland. Right before the geyser pops, the water level starts to surge, more steam erupts, and a beautiful blue bubble appears which than spouts water up about 50 feet. Also around the geysers are bubbling pools and steam vents. All very cool in a geothermal kind of way.

Waiting for the geyser to pop...

BOOM!

Out last stop was at Thingvellir National Park which houses the continental divide between North America and Eurasia. Cliffs jut up on either side of a valley where the tectonic plates overlap. It also happens to the be the sight of the first parliament, where medieval clan leaders from Iceland would gather once a year to agree on common laws, hold their courts of justice, and deal out punishment. The cliff backdrop acted as a kind of amphitheater allowing for natural amplification of voices.

The continental divide; one side North America and one side Eurasia

Looking out over the National Park

From there it was back on the bus and back to Reykjavik! We got dropped off right outside our apartment and after a little time to drop off our stuff we walked to dinner at a place called Harry's, rated the number one restaurant in Reykjavik on the Trip Advisor website. It was pretty good, an Asian fusion place, with the main thing in its favor is that it was reasonably priced. Food in Iceland is very expensive, so finding a meal for under $20 (about 2500 kronar) is a pretty big accomplishment.

Coming up next: our Southern Spectacular tour in a super jeep where we go off-roading, touch a glacier, and see more waterfalls!

There and Back Again

2011-09-11T13:34:00.012-04:00

Almost 3 weeks to the day from when I left, I return safe if not completely sound (but more on that later). I've been to some places I never imagined I would actually travel (Iceland, Estonia...) and some that have been on my list for quite a while (Amsterdam, Russia). It seems strange to be back among the familiar when the different and unusual became the norm. But I have a ton of stories to share, not to mention the pictures. Over a 1000 in fact!

As a wise woman once said "let's start at the very beginning, a very good place to start...."

I suppose a good first step is to introduce the travelers. There's me, of course. Everyone's favorite accident-prone, sassy ginger. Also coming on the trip were Chris and Kent, a couple that is no stranger to world travel. Several years ago we all went on a trip to the Mediterranean and discovered that we travel really well together. Chris and I have known each other since freshman year of college at William and Mary, and he and Kent have been together almost 9 years. Which means Kent has been my friend for just about that length of time.

The first stop on the epic Scandinavian and Baltic vacation seems at first glance a bit random. "Iceland?" you ask. "Why Iceland?" Turns out the cheapest way to fly to Amsterdam (where our cruise ship was docked) was to take IcelandAir. And to promote tourism, the airline provides for free multi-day layovers to give people a chance to visit Iceland. So there you go. When someone offers you the chance to spend a couple days in Iceland you don't say no.

Things, however, didn't get off to a great start. There were thunderstorms the evening we flew out of Dulles and our flight was delayed 30 minutes. There was a bit of a silver-lining though; we lucked out when checking in and were able to select first class seats without an extra charge--it was just the style of first class seats and not the first class service, but it definitely made for a more comfortable flight. I managed to get probably about 4 hours of sleep on the plane (which is pretty good for me) so I wasn't quite the walking dead when we arrived.

Unfortunately when I roused myself from sleep and stretched in my seat I noticed something was amiss. My gold and garnet pendant (which most people know I wear ALL THE TIME) was missing. The clasp had been slipping every so often, but I never imagined it would actually fall off the chain. After landing a frantic search ensued, with Chris, Kent, my seat-mate, and almost the entire flight crew pitching in with no luck. I reported it to the Reykjavik police and to Dulles, but it wasn't ever found. My vacation had claimed its first casualty. But I was determined to not let it ruin my good time--after all, it was my fault. If I loved it so much I never should have worn it. Live and learn, right?

After giving up the search on the plane, we walked through the small airport to the small baggage check and the small ground transportation area. Our plan was to grab the bus to the Blue Lagoon spa, but alas, we had just missed it and the next one wasn't coming for an hour. For the record, it was 7:30 in the morning in Iceland which meant our bodies thought it was 3:30 in the morning back at home. So we splurged on a cab and had our first view of the Iceland countryside.

In short: it was rugged, wild, and rocky. The entire island is volcanic and the ground is littered with black aerated rock. There aren't really any trees to speak of, but there are green scrubby plants covering the rocks. There are also beautiful blue lakes and mountains with huge geothermal steam vents. Oh, and active volcanoes. Including the one that erupted last year and made it impossible to travel to and from Europe for several weeks. The Blue Lagoon was only about 20 minutes from the airport, and the cab dropped us off at the main entrance. Well, I should say the walkway to the main entrance. We, along with our luggage, had to to wind our way through the path between huge piles of volcanic rock. It was pretty cool.

Steam vents on the way to the Blue Lagoon.

Blue Lagoon from afar

This path either leads to the Blue Lagoon....or Mordor.

But then we hit a snag. The spa itself didn't open until 9:00--but they offered a buffet breakfast starting at 6:30. We had made a reservation and made it there right on time--but the main entrance was locked tight with nobody around. Since it had taken us awhile to lug our luggage to the door we didn't relish the thought of heading back. Kent to the rescue! He wandered off around the building, found the kitchen entrance, and walked around until he found an employee to come let us in. Success!

I should point out that this was so typical Kent. While Chris and I became completely befuddled by a snag in our carefully thought out plan, Kent just surges ahead with a brilliant and totally unconventional idea that saves the day. After we were let in the door and made our way to the restaurant, we ate some yummy food (seriously--some of the best bacon I have ever had) and got a moment to decompress.

An hour later the spa opened and after stowing our luggage in a locker, we changed into our swimsuits and got into the lagoon. The water originates more than 6000 feet underground where it is infused with minerals and all other kinds of good stuff. The pump it up into the lagoon and it's like being in this milky warm hot tub (but without the bubbles). They have boxes of salt scrub that you can run on your face and then wash off, and then we also purchased an algae mask. So basically our faces felt awesome. After floating around the lagoon for a few hours (and getting a drink at the swim-up bar, natch) we headed to the relaxation room to lounge in some anti-gravity chairs. You recline on your back with your legs at a 90 degree angle above you. It takes all stress off your back and feels so good that we all fell asleep for about an hour. But hey, we needed it, right?

Blue Lagoon at dawn.

Right before opening....

Kent and I take advantage of the salt scrub.

I claim Iceland in the name of Maggiedom.

At that point we got our stuff, changed, and were able to get the bus back to downtown Reykjavik. But since it's us nothing is ever simple. Turns out today was Iceland's annual "Cultural Day" where the entire downtown area is closed to automobile traffic. This meant the bus couldn't take us to our hotel and we had to (again) lug our luggage from the bus depot. It took about 10 minutes, but thankfully the sidewalks were relatively even and there was only one hill. We arrived without incident and checked in to our hotel, which was actually an apartment so we have a lot of space. And after all, it isn't a real vacation until the three of us have to lug our bags through a European city.

The interior of our Reykjavik apartment.

By this point we were of course exhausted, but hey, how many times are you in Iceland? So we rallied and went wandering around the city. It was pretty easy since all the roads are closed to traffic and we went in and out of shops, around to the Parliament building and the new Harpa building, a theater and convention center with some interesting architecture. There was also a beautiful waterfront area with mountains right across the bay.

Wandering the street festival in Reykjavik...

Me and Kent and the gay polar bear.

People gather on a grassy lawn for the upcoming concerts.

We headed back to our apartment and while Chris and Kent went back out to see the fireworks at 11:00 (when it still wasn't fully dark) I tucked myself into bed and got some shut-eye. The next day would dawn early and would be jam-packed as we were taking the typical Icelandic tour called The Golden Circle. Geysers, waterfalls, and mountains...oh my!

Where in the World is Maggie?

2011-08-19T12:00:00.000-04:00

Did you hear? That I'm going on (another) epic vacation? Cuz I am, you know, just in case you hadn't heard.

People keep asking me where I am going. And since there are a lot of places I figured I would cut out the middle man (me) and just post an itinerary. This way you can follow my trip like the crazy stalkers you are.

Seriously though, I am super excited. This is a trip that has been more than a year in the making and the fact that it is actually here is kind of hard to wrap my head around. Maybe when I am sitting on the plane tomorrow night it will actually hit home....

Friday, August 19: depart from Dulles at 8:40pm

Saturday, August 20-Monday, August 22: Reykajavik, Iceland

Monday, August 22-Friday, August 26: Amsterdam, Netherlands

Friday, August 26: Board the Celebrity Constellation for cruise (I've listed our ports below, all other days are days at sea)

Sunday, August 28: Outside Berlin, Germany

Tuesday, August 30: Stockholm, Sweden

Wednesday, August 31: Helsinki, Finland

Thursday and Friday, September 1 and 2: St. Petersburg, Russia

Saturday, September 3: Tallin, Estonia

Monday, September 5: Copenhagen, Denmark

Wednesday, September 7: back to Amsterdam

Thursday, September 8: come home!

Monday, September 12: back to work (cue sad trombone)

So I'll see you all in September and try not to miss me too much!

Take the Canoli

2011-08-16T14:15:00.006-04:00

We must have been crazy. It seemed like a good idea in theory: we're only 4 hours from New York City by bus, so going up for the day seemed easy peasy. But when you take the 6:30 am bus up and the 10:00 pm bus back, you are looking at a long day.

But let me back up. There's a little thing called Harry Potter: The Exhibition. Basically, it has tons of costumes, props, wands, and other delights used during all the Harry Potter films. The exhibition has been making a slow tour of North America since 2009, but has only been in 5 cities, none of which are particularly close to DC. I always figured the exhibition would come here, after all, DC is the home of the Smithsonian and lots of Potter nerds. I kept waiting for them to announce a DC date but alas, the latest news from the website indicated that the show was leaving North America and heading out for international stops in September.

What's a girl to do?! I had to see all that Potter paraphernalia! There was only one choice. Hop the bus to NYC and make a day of it.

I am a big fan of the Bolt bus--for about $20 each way you get a ride up to NYC from downtown DC and for the most part, it's a smooth easy ride. Notice I said "for the most part." But more on that later.

Fellow Potter pundit Chris was up for the adventure, so we got up at the crack of dawn and convinced Kent to drop us off at Union Station at 6 in the morning. Kent's price: a doily. Yeah, I know. Apparently they are good for sidetables. Anyway...

Things got off to a poor start. The bus was about 20 minutes late, but when it did arrive our driver was in a REALLY bad mood. But here's the thing. One man's horribly bitchy is another man's delightfully bitchy, and Chris and I thoroughly enjoyed watching the bus driver yell at those who didn't have their shit together. When she calls boarding group A and you come up there with your boarding group C ticket...bitch, please. This driver was having none of that. And when two latecomers tried to board the bus without having their tickets already loaded on their phones...we thought their asses were going to get left. And frankly, I wouldn't have had a problem with that.

The ride up was mostly without incident and we arrived at 33rd and 7th (near Herald Square--and Macy's!) around 11:00. By this time we were starving, so we decided to just strike out for Time's Square (where the HP Exhibition was stationed) and just stop to eat at some random place along the way. We ended up wandering into a place called Ben's Kosher Deli which had some amazing looking traditional jewish food in addition to your typical sandwiches and such. They also had the biggest potato pancakes I have ever seen.

After lunch, we joined the tourist throng in Times Square to kill time (and on the way walked past Parsons School of Design of Project Runway fame) until it was 1:00 and time for the exhibition.

And you thought I was a shitty driver.

I'm not going to take the time to list everything in the exhibition (for a nice little tour check out the wiki page), but let me just say it was infinitely cool and made for a remarkable experience where you could get up close and personal with the props and really appreciate the detail that went into every aspect of the movies. Unfortunately, there was no photography allowed, but here are a couple of fun bits of trivia (pulled from my observance and the audio tour):

1) everyone in the movies is smaller than you imagine. Seriously. Emma Watson is like 5 feet tall. Also, the adults are all way skinnier than I imagined. They just seem so much larger than life on screen!

2) Despite being complete CGI creations, the filmmakers made incredibly detailed mock-ups of the house elves, Buckbeak, and the Hungarian Horntail. For Buckbeak, every feather on that thing was hand-dyed and hand-glued. Pretty impressive for something that would never even be on screen. And I also can't help but think it was a big waste of money.

3) Voldemort's robes were green, not black.

4) You would not believe the detail and easter eggs contained in every textbook, newspaper, or really anything printed that appeared on screen. There were even some things that I never even saw in the movie--like study guides for the O.W.L.S, but even those were amazingly detailed. Basically anything paper = amazing.

After exiting to the gift shop (duh) and breaking my baked goods embargo for a slice of cake from the Cake Boss bakery annex at the exhibition place, we hit the subway and headed for the Natural History Museum. Turns out Chris and I are both big planetarium buffs and our college friend Alyssa just so happens to work at the museum. Although she was out of town and we didn't get to hang with her (bummer) she had set tickets aside for us at will call and we got free admission to the museum and all the special exhibits. Dinosaur bones and planetarium, woot!

Raaaawr! T-Rex doesn't give a shit, T-Rex is HUNGRY! But T-Rex hates push-ups.

After getting our fill of the secrets of the universe, we met up with another William and Mary grad, Sarah. The museum is located on the upper west side which is rife with amazing restaurants, bars, and cafes. Next time I go to NYC for the weekend, I am definitely going to try to stay in that area--if just for the food alone. We grabbed some drinks at a great divey bar called Prohibition and then walked down a newish Italian place called Celeste. We managed to avoid the dinner rush (and over an hour wait) and indulged in some homemade pasta, pizza, and yummy bread. Make a note for the care and feeding of your Maggie: carbs are always a good thing.

But then! We had to get dessert, right? So we walked around the corner (dodging the raindrops that had started to plop down) and went to Cafe Lalo which is famous for its amazing desserts. It's also famous for being in the movie You've Got Mail. Remember that scene where Meg Ryan's character is waiting in the little cafe for the guy that she met on the internet (and doesn't know is Tom Hanks) and she's got a copy of Pride and Prejudice with a rose in it? Yeah, that's the place. And it's just as romantic (and delicious) as it looks in the movie.

And they have like 25 types of cake. ROCK.

By this point we had managed to stretch out the evening and it was nearly 9:00. As our bus departed as 10, we cabbed back to 33rd and 7th Avenue and said hail and farewell to Sarah.

Since the ride up to NYC was pleasant, we never imagined that the ride back would be anything but the same. Oh, boy were we wrong. First, the seats were some of the most uncomfortable I have ever sat in. I'm not sure what made these so different from the seats on the way up, but it was literally impossible to find a comfortable position. Second, the driver kept the temperature at around 65 degrees (not exaggerating--I could see the digital thermostat). Even after I went up there and begged him to warm it up--no dice. Finally, the woman in front of us spent a lot of time chatting on her phone.

WHO TALKS ON THEIR PHONE AT MIDNIGHT? I had earplugs in and I could hear her. I finally stood up, leaned over, and asked her (politely) to keep her voice down. That kind of shut her up. Bitch.

I can't remember ever wanting to lie down in my own bed as much. But finally, after 4.5 hours of hell, we made it back to Union Station. A quick cab ride and ride in my car later, I was finally home.

A super fun day, but maybe just a bit too long. Next time I will be taking an earlier bus home. I think Harry would understand.

Chocolate Party

2011-08-08T09:00:00.004-04:00

Two things I like most in the world: chocolate and parties. So what happens when you combine the two? AWESOMENESS.

My friend from law school, Kristine, is a hard as nails criminal law attorney down in the Newport News area by day. But by night she sells Dove Chocolate products at parties. So basically you get a bunch of your friends together, you sit around, and she gives you samples of chocolate: chocolate truffles, covered nuts, martinis (yes, chocolate martinis), mousse, fondue, etc. etc.

I can't really think of a better idea for a party. It's funny though, by the end I experienced something I never thought could happen. I was chocolated out. But when you are eating such rich stuff, a little can go a long way.

I know, I know, you want me to stop babbling and get to the good stuff. Pictures!

Those chocolate martinis might have been my favorite thing. YUM.

Here is the party and fondue aftermath. It was kind of like a pack of wild dogs got to it...but that's what happens when you put a bunch of chocolate fondue in front of some ladies on a Sunday morning. CHOCOLATE RIOT.

Rednecks Love Ke$ha!

2011-07-18T20:35:00.003-04:00

....except they actually don't. As I discovered, much to my chagrin, while indulging in my favorite sport (karaoke) at the Macado's in Radford, Virginia last weekend.

Ok, so here's the story. My friend Carl was (until recently) a DJ in the Radford area and also an employee at the Radford college bookstore. We first met about 7 years ago (holy shit it's been that long?) when we both worked at the William and Mary bookstore when I was law school. Since then I have moved to DC and he moved to Radford. Unfortunately it had been a long time since we saw each other, but when I went down to Blacksburg to visit Andi and Jeff we were able to meet up. And it wasn't a moment too soon, because Carl got a sweetass job at a college bookstore in a small town in West Virginia and was leaving literally the next day.

Of course I had to put in an appearance at his Saturday night karaoke. Especially since Carl credits with me with introducing him to karaoke during our Williamsburg days, it seemed to make sense for me to be there for his last Radford karaoke night. But! This was my first experience with karaoke in a real redneck bar. Sure, I had been to Rock It Grill in Alexandria a lot, but come on, this is northern Virginia. Radford is the real thing. I was not surprised by the amount of country music (duh) but I was a bit taken aback by the prevalence of angry 90s grunge. Who knew people in Radford were so angsty. I mean, if I loved there I would be probably go crazy and start throwing chairs, but I figured all those folks were used to it. Maybe the grunge rock was a way for them to express their rage in a healthy manner.

This one guy, he would sit at a table by himself with headphones in his ears. At first I thought he just didn't want to hear anyone else sing, but Carl explained that he was actually listening to the song he was planning to sing to make sure he got everything right. Seriously? This is karaoke at Macado's, not American Idol. Chill, dude.

Carl and I brought the house down with some duets (Summer Nights and Fat Bottomed Girls), and I kicked things off with a rendition of Alone by Heart that wasn't too shabby, but yeah. Ke$ha. Carl requested that I do Your Love Is My Drug, so I got up there and to break the ice I made the Glee joke. You know, "this one is by Ke dollar sign ha." I swear, you could hear crickets chirping. So then I started the song, and yeeeeeeeeeeah. Let's just say this was not the crowd for Ke$ha. I'm not sure if I was just sucking at the song or they had never heard it or what. But it was not good. Probably one of my #1 most awkward karaoke moments EVER. And that's saying a lot. I mean, I once did I Touch Myself.

So the moral of the story is: when you go to a redneck bar, go for the classics rather than the latest pop hit. And apparently you can't go wrong if you channel your inner angry white suburban white boy.

All was well.

2011-07-15T11:44:00.002-04:00

Last night, I attended the midnight showing of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 2. This blog post is about the experience of watching the movie and what it meant to me. If you aren't a fan of Harry Potter, 1) why are we friends and 2) this is clearly not the blog for you. Just stop reading, go in the corner, and look at your life, look at your choices. Seriously. Communist.

I know objectively it might seem kind of silly. After all, it was just a movie, Harry Potter is just some books...but honestly, if that's the stance you take than I kind of feel sad for you. Because life is a whole lot more fun when you fully embrace the things you care about and take joy in the community they bring. I was at that movie last night with 10 great friends and while we were all looking forward to different things and had different expectations, it was the whole experience that made it something I will never forget.

Last night was special, and not just because it was a great movie and a fun time. Harry Potter has been part of my life now for about 10 years. I received the first three books for Christmas in 1999 when I was in my sophomore year of college. I remember hearing stirrings about the series before then, and the son of my choral director dressed up as Harry for Halloween (complete with a golden snitch tied to a stick that he could swing around and catch), but I didn't really know anything about it. As usual, it was my Stepmom who gifted me the books (she also got me hooked on the Wheel of Time series--again, as a Christmas present) and when I sat down to read them over the holiday break....that was it. I was a goner.

When the Goblet of Fire came out in the summer of 2000, I inhaled and it then had to settle in for the long wait for Order of the Phoenix. By that time in 2003, I was working at the William and Mary Bookstore and actually worked the midnight release party. I remember walking the store, seeing all the kids, students, and grownups in costume, listening to readings of the previous books and just feeling privileged to be a part of something that was fun, had real depth and resonance, and best of all: encouraged kids to read. As soon as we started handing out the books at midnight, kids all over the store plunked themselves down on the floor and started reading. As someone who spent most of my childhood summer split between the library and the pool (where I would read the books from the library) it was one of the most thrilling things I have ever seen.

Half-Blood Prince came out in July 2007, when I was studying for the Virginia State Bar examination. I had pre-ordered it from Amazon.com and spent the morning waiting for Felicia, our mail carrier. As soon as I saw her walking from the house next door, I ran out the door to meet her. That entire summer I took one day off from studying--the day I got my hands on that book. For Deathly Hallows, it was more of a party. A group of friends and I drove down to Richmond where a friend owned a bookstore and was having a midnight release party. We snagged our books, and I think I made it to 4:00 that morning before I had to get some sleep. The next day, I read the book in my condo--lying in bed, sitting in a chair, lying on the couch...just picture a montage of me reading in various places.

My point is that despite my life taking me from college, to law school, to the bar exam, to an actual job and my own home, there has always been Harry. And of course, there has always been the movies. It became a tradition in my family to go to the Harry Potter movies and since the Rileys all have red hair we definitely got some "it's the Weasleys!" comments. Half-Blood Prince was my first midnight show, and the mixture of excitement, exhaustion, and adrenaline was kind of addicting. Attending a midnight show of Deathly Hallows: Part 2 wasn't just a sure thing, it was a damn requirement.

Because in a lot of ways, it's an end. Sure we have Pottermore from JKR, and maybe some supplementary stuff coming in the next few years, but the Deathly Hallows: Part 2 movie represented the last of the things to look forward to, the last thing to speculate, argue, and dream about. No more countdowns to something new and no more attending midnight show. It definitely doesn't mean Harry Potter as a fandom is over--I fully intend to keep having those Harry Potter themed parties and discussing the books and movies with my friends. Harry will live on in conventions, fanfic, and fan art. There's really no limit to the creativity that people are capable of once you give them a little push...and JKR has done that and more.

So last night was fun, unforgettable, but also a little sad. After all, it was an end. I always try to keep my expectations low when going to a movie like this--as a huge fan of the source material, it sometimes feels that you are setting yourself up for disappointment. I was so nervous through the entire movie that my legs would occasionally shake and I had to let out deep calming breaths. I think the reason I was so tense was first, that it was great movie that made the stakes feel real, but also that I wanted to love it so much, I wanted everything I loved from the book to be there, and I was scared (yes, actually scared) that the filmmakers would, at least from my perspective, "mess it up."

I won't give any spoilers here...but let me just say that there was not one instance where I was disappointed. Everything I wanted was there. All the moments, all the words, everything. This movie used the most of JKR's actual text than any other, and it made a huge difference. It was just...perfect. I can't say if I will feel that way in a few years, after I have seen it endless times and analyzed it from every corner. But right here, right now, I can say that it was one of the best movie-going experiences I have ever had. But not just because it was a great film: because it meant something to me. I felt that the movie makers really respected the material and the fans. That they loved it as much as we did, and that it meant as much to their lives as it has to mine.

So in the end...all was well.

The Yard Sale Whisperer

2011-06-07T09:10:00.004-04:00

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

2011-05-23T21:04:00.001-04:00

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

2011-05-05T18:51:00.005-04:00

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

2011-04-20T17:59:00.002-04:00

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.

2011-04-11T10:51:00.004-04:00

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

2011-03-03T10:09:00.007-05:00

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

2011-02-28T10:22:00.011-05:00

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.

2011-02-21T18:15:00.005-05:00

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

2011-02-15T07:50:00.002-05:00

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!

2011-01-14T21:08:00.002-05:00

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

2011-01-11T17:30:00.002-05:00

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

2011-01-04T13:50:00.003-05:00

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

2010-12-15T19:49:00.009-05:00

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

2010-12-07T23:19:00.002-05:00

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.

2010-10-25T18:42:00.003-04:00

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

2010-10-18T17:50:00.003-04:00

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....

2010-09-27T19:05:00.004-04:00

....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

2010-09-13T20:24:00.012-04:00

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.

2010-09-09T19:28:00.003-04:00

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

2010-08-25T08:57:00.004-04:00

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.

LEGO my exhibit ticket!

2010-08-11T11:20:00.004-04:00

This was supposed to be another one of those "Things to do in DC" posts that I manage to get up here (way too infrequently). I say supposed to, because as usual, things didn't work out as I planned.

The initial idea was simple: this past Sunday, my friend Jason organized a group of friends to visit the National Building Museum to take a look at the new LEGO Architecture: Towering Ambition exhibit. We met across the street, chatted about our eagerness to check out the LEGO renditions of 15 of the world's most famous structures, and then went into the museum. Where we were greeted with a sign plastered with big "SOLD OUT" stickers. Apparently, special exhibits require a special ticket so only special people can get in to see them. The kicker? The website didn't indicate that the separate ticket was required. So there were, all ready to rock the LEGOs, and we were denied.

Alas, nothing is ever easy. We tried to make the best of it by taking the Building Museum's basic tour, but this focused solely on the history of the building, and we didn't get any chance to see any exhibits or collections. By the end of the hour tour we were all feeling despondent and were hungry, so we dragged our sorry butts down the street to The Green Turtle sports bar (don't ask me where the name comes from). Good food and good conversation can cure even the worst heartache, but I have to confess to still feeling extreme disappointment regarding my lack of LEGO.

The silver lining on the LEGO cloud is that the exhibit is sticking around until September 2011 so there is still plenty of time to get our hands on tickets for another weekend. And when my office finally moves to it's new location in April of next year, I'll be only 4 blocks away from the museum. Happy hour LEGO exhibit, anyone?

Alma Mater, Hail!

2010-08-03T19:11:00.006-04:00

Ah, Williamsburg. I spent 7 years of my most formative years there, through college and law school, but since graduation in 2005, I hadn't felt a strong desire to go back. It's not that I don't love the town (I do) or loved my time at William and Mary (I did), but the bar examination-induced trauma was just too strong to ignore for a couple years. Coupled with my academic burn-out from 7 years of continuous higher education, I needed a break.

But all that's over! It was time to head back to the Burg and revisit all the old hot spots. So with Selvi along for the ride we painted the town red...or as red as you paint it when you're facing 105 degree weather. Because it just so happens we decided to head down to Williamsburg on the hottest weekend of the year. Typical.

We drove down Friday night after work and because of traffic on I-95 didn't arrive until 11pm at night. But that didn't deter us from doing a quick drive around the town and campus. Let me just say this: if any of those kids ever bitch about their not being anything to do I will punch them in the face. When we were there, there was NOTHING. Literally, nothing. It was big news when they built a Wawa across the street from campus and the frats and three bars (called "the delis") basically comprised the entire nightlife. Of course, things improved as time went on. But now, there is an entire yuppy village at New Town (with bars, restaurants, housing, etc.) and two movie theaters. TWO! We used to have to drive down to Hampton to the AMC to see a movie. Now there's a huge multiplex in New Town and some place called a movie tavern, which is kind of like the Arlington Drafthouse.

The campus has changed a lot too; there are two new dorms on Barkesdale Field, and the Rogers science building has been expanded into a new "science center." The Swem library renovations are done and the renovations of Andrews and PBK are starting. The law school also has a fancy new library (which of course was done right when I left), and there is a brand new business school where the Common Glory parking lot used to stand. And the University Center (UC) was renamed the Sadler Center (after Sam) and is having a whole new wing added.

Ah, changes.

But not everything changed. Morton (the government building) is still slowly sinking into the ground, but god knows I love it. And the music building, Ewell, is still exactly the same. But they should really think about upgrading their security; almost all the campus buildings were locked, but we waltzed right into Ewell and into the bandroom. We even left some nice messages on the chalk board. No seriously, they were nice. Something like, "greetings from alumni!" Nobody except the janitors is likely to see it, but it made us feel good.

The Sunken Gardens at morning. Looks just the same!

Of course I had to take pictures of the Wren building, right?

The original Music department diva.

Me and Selvi chill with Thomas Jefferson.

The sun dial on new campus looking towards Swen Library.

The Crim Dell bridge. As soon as Selvi and I walked by, about 5 adorable turtles swam up in eager anticipation of us throwing food at them. Ha, suckers.

It's nice to know somethings never change, like the inside of the University Center.

After we spent a couple hours walking around the campus, we hit the campus shop and bookstore (my former employer) for some WM digs. Then it was off to the Prime Outlets for some shopping, and Peking Mongolian BBQ for lunch. A word about Mongolian--it was just as good as I remembered. SO GOOD.

And I was really happy after eating at the buffet.

By that time, it was over 100 degrees, so Selvi and I headed back to the hotel for an afternoon nap. Then we met up with my friend Andrew at our favorite drinking spot, The Green Leafe. On the way there we lamented that it wasn't Sunday night when we could have broken out our Green Leafe mugs, but it turns out they were offering mugs of margaritas on Saturday. That's right, mugs.

That's a whole lot of margarita.

By that time we were well and tipsy, so Andrew loaded us up in his car and took us to hang out at his place. We watched some quality HBO shows and just hung out and had fun. Then it was back to the hotel where we slept the night away. We didn't have a lot of time the next morning since we had to get back to DC, but we slept in and then went to IHOP for brunch. It may not be fancy, but it's definitely a Williamsburg tradition.

All in all, we had a great weekend, and I'm really excited about going back sometime soon. Once you walk down memory lane...it's hard not to make a return trip. Maybe we can get some of you WM alums to come with.

Blog Inertia

2010-08-01T13:56:00.002-04:00

For the past week, I have been trying to work up the energy to blog about my trip last weekend to Williamsburg. I've got fun stories and fun pics, but for some reason, the motivation is just. not. there.

It's not like I had a particularly busy week; work, home, some family and friend stuff, you know the usual. I didn't go out late on any weeknight or stay up late any night. I have been working hard at work, pushing myself, so I think the burn-out factor is definitely playing a part. BUT. None of this really explains why I went to bed at 8:30 Thursday evening. 8:30! You would think I had a run a marathon or been up all night the night before....or you know, done something to warrant that level of exhaustion. Alas, no. I was just tired and lame.

I think I'm getting old. Or it's hormonal. Either way, god help me because I'm only 30 and there is a long road ahead.

The good news, I have had a very relaxing weekend. I was pretty active with working out, walking in the park, and swimming and I've had a lot of fun but also some downtime. So I am hoping for the week to come that I will shake off the tiredness and get back to business as usual. And have the energy to get that Williamsburg post and pictures up. Because I am sure everyone is giddy with the anticipation of reading about it. So stay tuned!

No sleep til Brooklyn...or until the AC gets fixed

2010-07-19T19:33:00.002-04:00

Next time someone tells me that global warming is just a myth, I am going to punch them in the face. Seriously. Don't tell me this heat we've been having (since, let's face it, April) is normal. I've been living in DC summers my entire life and we'll usually get this hot maybe around August or so for a few weeks, but never this early, and never this long. But I don't need to tell you, chances are where you live it's the same story.

So what would be the worst thing that could happen right now? That's right: for the air conditioning to break. Which is just what happened in my bedroom. See, my building is pretty old (built in the 1960s), so instead of central air, I have a convector unit in each room which is kind of like a radiator. It does AC in the summer and heat in the winter. Unfortunately, the one in the bedroom started making this really loud clanking noise on Wednesday night that was 1) too loud to sleep through and 2) made me think the motor was going to explode. It also scared the crap out of me when it woke me up around 3:00 in the morning.

Now I have this thing where I cannot sleep when it is really hot. It just doesn't happen; in fact, I like to keep it so cool that I sometimes use an extra blanket, even in the summer. Wasteful? Whatever, it's how I like it. Leave me alone. But there was no way in hell I was going to be able to sleep with no air conditioning these past few days. Which left me one option: the couch. The AC in the living room is working just fine, mostly because it broke back in May. Insert your own "fighting with the wife" joke here, but it seemed pretty sad to have to sleep on my own couch in my own house.

As Whitney pointed out, at least my couch is comfortable. But after 4 nights I found myself really longing for my own bed again. I called in a work order on the AC first thing Thursday morning, but of course they didn't get to it before the end of the day Friday. And the maintenance guys don't do work on the weekends. You can bet your ass I called the office today (Monday) as soon as they opened to ask what gives. And guess what? When I got home they had fixed it! The national nightmare is over, I can get back in my own bed!

And now I realize how incredibly lucky I am that I even have the option of air conditioning and I feel like a whiny little punk for even bitching about it. That's middle class guilt for you.

PS: this might also be the first blog post ever where when I ran spellchecker, I got the message "no misspellings found." Go me!

St. Maarten and the Floating Tiki Hut of Magic

2010-07-12T15:19:00.010-04:00

Are we at the end already? Unfortunately, yes. Time for the last post about my Eastern Caribbean cruise vacation. Insert sad face here.

You might have noticed that I skipped a few stops, basically because when it comes to two of the islands I decided to just not to do anything and stay on the ship. I sat by the pool, read a lot, and just in general hung out and enjoyed my vacation. But the last full day of our cruise we had our final, and favorite, shore excursion. Ladies and gentleman, I give you: the floating tiki hut of St. Maarten.

Tucked in a little cove on St. Marrten in the Caribbean Sea, the floating tiki hut is just what it sounds like. A tiki hut (with bar and grill) that floats on the water. There are deck chairs, as you can see, and full snorkel gear. So basically, you can snorkel, then relax in the sun in a deck chair, grab a burger and a rum punch, and then just jump off the side and swim in the warm, clear water.

Nice, huh?

There was a boat that traveled back and forth from our cruise ship so people were free to stay at the tiki hut as long as they wanted. Which for me, Chris, and Patrick meant that we stayed there all day. They packed up around us, closed up the hut, and we took the last boat back with the staff. Because when you have that sweet a set-up, you don't leave. Unless you're Kent, in which case you head back after about 2 hours. But, bless him. It's his way.

By the end of the afternoon, when we were the only guests left at the tiki hut, the bar staff was just giving the rum punch to us for free to help get rid of it. Chris and Patrick got a bit, shall we say, toasted, but I figured one of us should stay sober-ish. So we kicked back, drank, and enjoyed the tunes piped in from the staff's iPod playlist.

Snorkeling in the cove was even more fun than our first stop since there was lots more to see. We hunted around for cannons that had blown off Fort Amsterdam in a hurricane, and looked at a sunken yacht, super colorful fish, lobsters, urchins, and the occasional scuba-diver. All in all, it was the perfect day.

And they let me drive the boat back! (not really)

So I bet you're wandering, "wow, this all looks great, but what did you guys do when you were on the boat?" And even if you weren't wondering that, I'm going to tell you. We did a lot of roh roh-ro-oh-oh-ing from Lady Gaga's Bad Romance (and Patrick and I performed an epic dance number to it in the dance club one night), we also did a lot of mocking of the Southern people we spent the day with on Dominica ("oh my word!"), and we did a lot of karaoke. A LOT of karaoke. Almost every night. And we might have done some choreographing of our karaoke routines, just to make sure we were up to snuff. But our perseverance was rewarded, as we received several medals for our karaoke performances. The karaoke lady was also very impressed with Patrick's acting resume...in fact, they showed the remake of Fame (which he appeared in) our first night on the ship. Coincidence, but a happy one.

So that about wraps up the vacation recap. We came, we saw, we conquered, and I avoided getting a sunburn. Think of it: pasty ol' me in the Caribbean and I managed to avoid any sunburn, thanks to my trusty SPF 75. I hope to definitely go back some day, but maybe next time pick a lighter itinerary. An island a day was very ambitious. And as you can see, it takes a lot of energy to sit around and relax all the time.

Did I mention that I got a coconut monkey drink? And you know that coconut came home.

St. Lucia and the Volcanic Mud Bath

2010-07-01T18:47:00.011-04:00

The adventure continues! After the coral paradise of Barbados, it was back to the volcanoes on St. Lucia (pronounced Loosha). Kent and I had signed up for an excursion on this island, one that involved slathering ourselves in hot volcanic mud. Score.

But first, we had to endure a two hour drive to the volcanic park. And I say endure, because St Lucia is hilly. Actually, it's VERY hilly. I don't think we encountered a single straight stretch of road. We're talking winding, twisting roads here. The volcano might have actually only been like 30 miles from the ship, but we had to take such a circuitous route to get there it was INSANE.

But the longish drive to the volcano meant that we got a great view of the island. We did some of the scenic overlook action, and then drove up to a place called Marigot Bay. According to wiki, it's considered the most beautiful bay in the Caribbean and has been featured in movies like Doctor Dolittle (the Rex Harrison version) and Romancing the Stone. I think our guide also mentioned that they shot some scenes from Pirates of the Caribbean there, but don't quote me on that.

While driving around the island, we also a ton of banana plantations. I know it sounds crazy, but I found all the information about bananas pretty fascinating. Turns out, each tree produces only one bunch of bananas (but you can get up to 200 in a bunch), and the bunches are wrapped in these special blue bags to protect them from insects and the sun. We also drove by pineapple groves (and saw baby pineapples!) and tons of bread fruit and mango trees.

But the island is most famous for the Pitons, two large volcanic mountains that are called "volcanic plugs." Right next to them are active sulphur springs and pools of volcanic mud which were our final destination!

There was no doubt where we were when we got to the volcanic park; the smell of sulphur was very evident. Or as Kent so eloquently put it, "it smells like damn rotten eggs here." He seemed particularly sensitive to the smell, but I had spent every summer of my youth in Hot Springs, Virginia where there are natural mineral springs that smelled pretty much the same. So I guess it was familiar to me. Anyway, we got a brief tour around the park, seeing the natural springs (with temperatures over 120 degrees) and a broad volcanic wasteland area with bubbling pools of boiling mud. It looks like an alien landscape right out of Star Trek. People actually aren't allowed to walk around on it anywhere since a tour guide fell through the ground and sustained second degree burns on half his body (he survived and fell through because of air pockets underground).

Then it was on to the baths. We walked down a few stairs and there was a pool of hot mud. And it was HOT. The first time I tried to stand in it (it was about ankle to mid-calf high) I had to jump right out. But the best method was just to grin and bear it for about a minute, and then the body acclimated to the change. The mud was actually on the bottom of the pool; you just scooped it up and rubbed it all over your body. And it felt amazing. It was chock full of minerals and the bits of gravel acted like a natural exfoliant. Once we washed it all off in the shower, I could not believe how smooth my skin felt...for several days afterwards! Of course I walked around with volcanic mud under my fingernails for the next 3 days, but it was so worth it.

Me and Kent rock the "volcanic mud" look, straight from the runways of Paris and Milan.

After our mud bathing, Kent went in search of food as he is want to do and we bought some amazing fried chicken and fried bread (think of it as a pita combined with a tortilla). I know we were in a total tourtisty area, but it still felt somewhat cool to be enjoying the local cuisine. All of our meals had been eaten on ship before then, and while I'm not the most adventurous diner, I enjoyed sampling the local flavor.

Then it was back on the van for our return ride! And it seemed even more twisty on the way back. Although we did get to stop at a fab overlook restaurant to take in the view and rum punch. Ah, rum punch. It's like the water of the Caribbean.

A few more pictures:

Mangoes (yes, I think they look like balls too)

Mineral pool at the volcanic park

Me and Marigot Bay. Thanks to the nice Australians who took my picture since Kent had wandered off to look at souvenirs.

Barbados

2010-06-20T20:53:00.007-04:00

On the third day of our cruise, we hit the island paradise of Barbados. Of all the islands on our itinerary, Barbados was the one I had actually heard of. I've always pictured it as an island oasis for the wealthy and envisioned smooth white beaches and blue water. And guess what? I was right! But there's also a whole lot more going on there, as we discovered on our little tour.

Barbados was the one day where we didn't have anything planned. We didn't book any excursions, just figured we would wander off the boat, find our way to the beach, and have some fun. As exited the port, we saw a sign for a tour of the island that cost $20 and would end at the beach and we figured, why not? We piled in a 10 seater van with some fellow cruisers and set off.

The tour ended up not being as exciting as I had hoped, although I did pick up a few tidbits. For example, Barbados, unlike our previous stop of Dominica, is not a volcanic island but instead made up coral. So all the rocks? Little bits of coral. Also, for $25,000 a night you can get a suite at the ritzy hotel on the island. Yeah, $25, 000. YIKES.

We also saw St. James Church, which was the first church on the island. It was built by the English and stunning inside. The whole things looked to be made out of coral and wood and just seemed to glow.

We also drove through the first village founded by freed slaves on the island and got a gander at the Freedom Memorial. Very moving. Not that long ago, the entire island was covered with sugarcane and men and women performed the most backbreaking, difficult, dangerous work you can imagine: harvesting the sugarcane and turning it into rum.

Then we drove around the island up to a scenic overlook where you could see all the way to the Atlantic Ocean and then turn around and see all the way to Caribbean Sea. I was surprised by how much the landscape actually reminded my of England; green rolling hills, lots of trees, and of yeah, the occasional group of King Palms. They don't really have those in England, I suppose. At the scenic overlook there was also a monkey, but it made me sad how gross all the tourists were around it. Throwing things at it and basically taunting it. People really suck sometimes, you know?

People who don't suck? Us. We respect the monkey.

But things got better. After a quick and pointless stop at a mahogany craftsman (???), we hit the beach at Carlyle Bay. This was probably the most gorgeous beach I have ever been to....it had the softest smoothest white sand and the water was so blue. I swam further out in the ocean than I ever have before (almost to the buoys) since you could see the bottom and it was just a smooth sandy ocean floor. Also, the water was unbelievably warm. I've never actually "swum" in the ocean before, it's always cold, and pebbly, and gross, and I am kind of scared of jellyfish--so I usually just go in up to my knees or so. But here it was just so easy and relaxing.

And I didn't get sunburned. Reapplication every 45 minutes, people!

Dominica

2010-06-13T18:42:00.009-04:00

Our second day of the cruise, we set off for the volcanic island of Dominica. Our excursion this day was a two-fer. We would start off by traveling to a rainforest and seeing the Emerald Pool, a waterfall and natural pool. Then we were heading over to a volcanic (black sand) beach, which has definitely been on my list of things to do for a long time.

We met up with our tour right outside the the port and rolled our eyes at some very obnoxious very southern people speaking very loudly and yelling at each other. Chris said, "thank goodness they're not on our tour," and of course two seconds later they climbed aboard our van and were on our tour. Swell. So despite their clearly right-wing belief system ("oh, you went to school in Virginia? My son applied to Liberty!") they were very nice people once we got to know them. Also, we ended up spending the rest of the trip making fun of they way they talked by saying things like, "oh my word!" at every opportunity, but it was all in good fun.

Chris, me, and Patrick at a photo spot above the capital city of Dominica, Roseau. That's our ship, the Carnival Victory, in the background.

The rainforest on the island was very cool. It was very primordial and spawned lots of Jurassic Park quotes from me and Patrick since it had that kind of feel to it. Huge trees, ferns, and other deep green plants everywhere. We first spied the waterfall from above and then hiked down to the actual pool. Chris and Patrick went into the water, but I didn't want to sit around in my wet bathing suit while we drove to the beach, so I declined. But I did clamber over the rocks and climb around the back of the waterfall to get some neat pics.

After we hiked back out of the rainforest (in a rain shower, no less) we loaded back into the van and headed to the beach. Driving through the island was interesting. It's beautiful and colorful, but there is a lot of poverty. It's actually not as bad as I was expecting, no shanty towns or the like, but it is definitely striking. And the juxtaposition of being on this fabulous vacation against the poverty was not lost on me. But I assuage my guilt by knowing that I am there putting money into the economy and maybe helping that way? Anyway, these are the kind of things that you can't help but think about.

We got to the volcanic beach and trust me, it was very cool. There was a little snack bar where you could get drinks (such as rum punch!) and we got beach chairs and umbrellas. There was also this guitar playing/singing guy who serenaded us with reggae versions of classic songs while we relaxed. The only downsides of the volcanic beach were 1) the sand got REALLY hot, and 2) there was a strip of rocks that you had to get past to get the nice sandy ocean-bottom. But nothing's ever easy right and once you got to the nice warm water, it was all worth it.

White foot, black sand.

After several hours, it was back on the van for the trip back. Patrick and I started singing (as is our way) and we caught the ears of the Southerners in the van. Eventually we got everyone singing along to some Motown favorites, and the Southerners promised to stop by the karaoke lounge to catch our act (more on that later). It was just kind of cool how we started out not really knowing or wanting to know the people on the tour, but by the end we are all buddies.

Coming up next time: Barbados!

Ahoy, Matey!

2010-06-12T12:39:00.007-04:00

I know what you're thinking. "Where has Maggie been? I miss her witty comments regarding the every day minutiae of her life!"

Well, the answer, gentle readers, is that I have been on vacation. Yes, once again I have set sail for lands unknown (at least to me) and went on another cruise. This time I hit the Eastern Caribbean, and I thought I could take you through the trip bit by bit, sharing all the delightful tales of my adventures.

The cruise (aboard the Carnival Victory) left out of San Juan, Puerto Rico. This was my first time in PR, but we really didn't get a chance to do a lot of sight-seeing for a couple reasons. 1) It was really hot there. And it is NOT a dry heat. It's even more humid than it is here in DC, believe it or not. 2) We were all pretty exhausted. First from having traveled down to PR, and after our arrival back in San Juan, from all the fun we had on the ship. So unfortunately my impressions of San Juan are limited to a bit of walking around Old Town San Juan (kind of like Old Town Alexandria but Spanish influenced rather than English) and what I could see out of the hotel window.

Our cruise was a 7 day trip through the "exotic Eastern Caribbean" and included a new island every day, which got to be a bit overwhelming. We didn't actually push off from San Juan until 10pm the first night, so we treated it as a day at sea, running around and getting acquainted with the ship, which not surprisingly, had an identical layout to the ship from my last cruise. Thanks, Carnival, for preventing me from getting hopelessly lost at sea. Get it?

And guess what the very first thing we did on the ship was?

Mai Tais!

Our first stop the very next day was at St. Thomas. We didn't actually spend time on the island though, since we had all signed up for a snorkeling excursion. It was my first time snorkeling and I have to admit, I was a bit nervous. I've never been before, and I was convinced I would somehow screw it up. I mean, I can barely walk across my living room without crashing into something. How was I going to fare in the ocean? Luckily for me, turns out snorkeling is basically idiot-proof. I didn't even have a problem with my mask fogging. And it was fascinating being able to actually see all the life that teems right below the surface of the sea. You can see it in pictures and on television all you want, but actually seeing it, right there only a few feet away, is actually really amazing.

Me and Kent post-snorkel. You can see the mask marks on our faces if you look close.

Up next: the volcanic island of Dominica (pronounced like a girl's name ("Dominique-a")).

Constitution: -5

2010-05-12T18:07:00.002-04:00

Well, here we are again. Just four weeks after getting over a hellacious cold, I'm feeling sickly. It's not quite a cold, not quite the flu, but this weird sore throat, achy, fatigue, headachy hybrid. As soon as I woke up with a sore throat on Monday I knew the bell had tolled. That's always how it starts for me: a sore throat. It usually then progresses to the stuffy nose and fever stage, but thankfully I seem to have dodged the bullet. But that still leaves me with the aches and exhaustion.

The sad thing is, I've always prided myself on my constitution. I only get sick about once a year, usually the above mentioned cold, but this is my second time being sick in less than two months. Boo. I'm going to chalk it up to several things: the sudden and WTF change of temperature the past few days, the stress of the past couple weeks with all my family issues, and my tendency to work a lot. I know, I know, everyone thinks I work too much (although I don't really agree), but I can't argue that I've been pushing myself hard lately. And this is the result.

I want ice cream.

Things to do in DC: National Aboretum

2010-05-05T18:56:00.004-04:00

Confession time: I had never been to the National Arboretum. I've lived in the DC area basically my entire life, but had never been And what's even worse? My MOM had never been to the National Arboretum. She's lived in the area her entire life (which is about 25 years longer than me) and had also never been. So I was looking for something that we could do on her birthday, which was two weeks ago on Monday, April 19th, and someone happened to mention the National Arboretum it seemed like the perfect solution. And then we learned the azaleas were in full bloom and it was a no brainer.

Yeah, we're kind of dorks that way.

First things first: the organizers of the National Arboretum are very smart. They know that people are going to want to walk around, but since we are Americans and lazy and fat we aren't going to want around too much. So everything in the Arboretum is driveable and walkable. Mom and I opted for the combo pack: we drove to the beginnings of where we wanted to go and then wandered/hiked through the area, but could then head back to the car and drive to the next display. Which could be almost a mile away, so I prefer to think of it as being efficient rather than lazy.

We weren't there too long, it was a weekday after all and there was traffic to consider, but we managed to hit the azaleas, boxwoods, Capitol columns (moved to the Arboretum after the renovating of the Capitol building), and drove through most of the other areas. We didn't get a chance to see the bonsais, because by then Mom was getting antsy and wanted to head home, but you always gotta leave something for next time, right?

But if you're looking for a really lovely place to take a walk with plenty of parking (and dog-friendly) this is the place for you. And did I mention it's free? Awesome.

Pink azalea

Mom communing with nature. The funny part is, about two seconds after I took this picture she tripped and fell on a tree root and went flat on her face. Now you all know where I got my natural grace.

Me standing by the Capitol columns (look close).

I love this picture. Doesn't it look like some fairytale path leading to a magic kingdom? Although it could also lead to a witch's cottage who will then try to kill you in some overly complicated way so she can munch on your bones. Let's just say it's a nice azalea-lined trail, eh?

2010-05-03T20:21:00.004-04:00

There's a lot I want to tell you about my Grandmother. First, that she lived to be 89 years old, which is a pretty big accomplishment all by itself. She lived from 1920 to 2010; think about all the things she saw and all the history she lived. Some good, some bad, but still--almost an entire century of history.

The next thing I want to tell you about my Grandmother is that I am named after her. But not really. She was born Margaret Virginia Riley, while I am Margaret Ann Riley. My Grandmother hated the middle name Virginia; apparently she really disliked the Virginia she was named after. Remember, she was born before Social Security, so when the time came to sign up for her card, she told them her name was Margaret Ann Riley. From then on, she was known as Margaret Ann Riley on all official documents. And so am I. Although I have to admit, I've always been partial to the name Virginia and would have must preferred it to Ann. But I didn't get a vote owing to the fact that I was still a good 40 years or so down the road.

Names were always important to my Grandmother. When she was in fifth grade she was expelled from school. The reason? Some kid on the playground called her Maggie. She responded by beating his head repeatedly into the asphalt until the nuns pulled her off him. But nobody ever called her Maggie again after that.

My grandmother married my grandfather in 1945, right before he left to fight with the Navy in World War II. When they met, they hit it off right away, and he introduced himself as Earl. He asked if he could call her sometime, and she replied, "Sure. As long as you have a name other than Earl." Good thing his name was actually William Earl, or I might never have been born to write this blog post.

People throw around words like "feisty," "spitfire," but Grandma really was. She was also tenacious, stubborn, and very set in her ways. There was a right way and a wrong way, and hers was the right way. And usually it was best just to get out of the way and let her take care of whatever needed doing. It was easier on everyone.

At her memorial service on April 27th, Father Chuck noted most of what I said above, but he added that Grandma was always classy, always a lady, and always elegant. Not only were the things that she did done well, they were done right. Grandma took pride in presenting herself, her home, and her family in a proper way with all the care that many years experience can bring. She was the type of woman who would not venture out of the house without properly combed hair, and perfectly applied lipstick. Example: at around the age of 80 she was helping my Dad dig the holes for the foundation of her deck (in the summer heat having given blood earlier in the day no less) and passed out. When the paramedics arrived, she refused to go to the hospital, as her hair was still in curlers. They made her sign the release form and everything, but damned if she was going to the hospital with curlers in her hair.

But she would go anywhere, no matter how far the distance, if someone in her family was in need. She was always the first one to offer help, whether it was a hug, a hand, a casserole, or a word of encouragement. She was the head of our family, our matriarch, and our center. There's a hole now, no doubt, and it's up to us all to try to live up to her example. After all, you could do much worse than be feisty, tenacious, and classy.

Oh, but you can call me Maggie. Or Margaret if you like. Either way, I think of her when you say it.

2010-04-25T21:03:00.001-04:00

MARGARET ANN RILEY (Age 89) passed away on April 21, 2010. Born in Minneapolis, Minnesota on June 14, 1920, Margaret was a current resident of Alexandria, Virginia, and an active member of Good Shepherd Catholic Church. She is proceeded in death by her husband William Earl Riley, parents William and Margaret NcNelly, three brothers, William, Bernard, and Thomas and one sister, Mary Heald. Margaret is survived by three children, W. Thomas Riley, Roz (wife), David L. Riley, Linda (wife), and Kimberlee A. Riley and seven grandchildren: Sharon E. Riley, William B. and Amanda Riley, Margaret A Riley, Marin and Scott Darone, Brian Nicholson. A memorial service will be held on Tuesday, April 27, 2010 at 11:00am at Good Shepherd Catholic Church, 8710 Mount Vernon Highway, Alexandria, VA, 22309. In lieu of flowers, contributions may be made to the cancer charity of the donor's choice or the Geriatric ward of the Veterans Administration Hospital of the donor's choice.