Saturday, December 31, 2011

2011 Book List

This was a slow year for reading...
  • Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother
  • by Amy Chua
  • Swallow the Ocean by Laura M. Flynn
  • Little Bee by Chris Cleave
  • Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban by J. K. Rowling
  • Harry Potter and The Goblet of Fire by J.K. Rowling
  • Ms. Hempel Chronicles by Sarah Shun-lien Bynum 
  • Food Rules by Michael Pollan
  • The Help by Kathryn Stockett
  • The Death and Life of Charlie St. Cloud by Ben Sherwood
  • A Stolen Life by Jaycee Dugard
  • Bossypants by Tina Fey
  • The Lottery by Patricia Wood
  • Sing You Home by Jodi Picoult 
  • The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins 
  • Catching Fire (The Second Book of the Hunger Games) by Suzanne Collins
  • Mockingjay (The Final Book of the Hunger Games) by Suzanne Collins
  • The Good Neighbor by Ryan David Jahn
  • 31 Days to Finding Your Blogging Mojo by Bryan Allain
  • Cadillac Desert: The American West and Its Disappearing Water by Marc Reisner 
  • The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks by Rebecca Skloot
  • Is Everyone Hanging Out Without me? (And Other Concerns) by Mindy Kaling 
  • Serena by Ron Rash
  • The Invisible Wall: A Love Story That Broke Barriers by Harry Bernstein
"Literature is one of the few kinds of writing in the world that does not tell you what to buy, want, see, be, or believe. It's more like conversation, raising new questions and moving you to answer them for yourself." (Barbara Kingsolver)

Wednesday, December 28, 2011

Atlanta, Georgia

If my records are right, Thanksgiving was over a month ago... and our family trip to Atlanta, Georgia has gone undocumented. I could go on, unproductively, with a list of excuses, or simply unfold my notes into a readable account of the holiday vacation.

I arrived at Reagan National Airport on Monday, November 21, 2011, revived from a weekend in Orlando, Florida, and on Tuesday, our family--minus the one we were on our way to visit--was on-the-road North to Baltimore Washington International Airport for our in-the-air flight South. The first two days of the trip, I was off--I chalked that up to a bout of dizziness and ongoing sleep deprivation. The revival had the effect of a sugar high. I was back on my feet with a drink, food binge, and some rest. The remainder of the trip followed suit--excess eating and drinking--minus the whole sleep part.

We stayed with our dear family friends, a few houses down from our old Alpharetta home. As with any trip to an previous hometown, I marveled in the changes; the rapidly growing suburb of Altanta, nestled in north Fulton County, had some unrecognizable alterations. On Wednesday--our family day, we ventured to C.D.H.'s, I mean S.M.S's place to visit with our guy and his girl. The time was chatty... as if we had not been together in years. We checked-out their place, and even got a brief walking tour of the surrounding area. He bypassed the option to stock up on groceries at Whole Foods, instead dragging the family to the "Murder Kroger." At least he has fine taste in restaurants, for dinner he took us (on Pop's bill) to Flip, a fancy burger boutique, owned by some Top Chef finalist. I was impressed by the number of vegetarian options! The burgers were fabulous, though the real show winners were the accompanying liquid nitrogen milkshakes. Or did the Krispy Kreme donuts we picked up for dessert, erase all memories of Flip? (Re: Eating and drinking in excess!)
The rest of Atlanta was filled with the obvious holiday occasion, more togetherness, a Mexican lunch, good coffee, Black Friday shopping (It is these sort of occasions I am thankful I do not have actual sisters.), a trip to the nail salon (Retract last statement. This experience is far superior with 'sisters.'), chopping down trees, and S.K.H.’s 29th birthday celebration. 
We found a few minutes to spare before our flight home to catch part of the Michigan/Ohio State game, unfortunately we were mid-air for majority... though when we landed, The Big Blue had prevailed. 'Hail to the Victors!' 
(The delayed account allows me to express my disappointment in another ill-planned flight time. Long before kick-offs--and locations, in this case--were announcements, I was forced to purchase roundtrip airfare. I be mid-air during the--Michigan/Virgina Tech--Sugar Bowl... and leaving New Orleans, home of the Sugar Bowl. This is bad. Worse: It is wreaking havoc on my attempt to make Orange Bowl plans.)

We were home in time for the Clemson/University of South Carolina game, however, an unfortunate incident with the sister of a friend prevented me from catching the game--the one condition I had for driving to Alexandria to hang out. The emotions have subsided, and since Clemson wound up losing to their in-state rivals, I was better off without game coverage. (I am done believing, forever a fan.) And without the distraction of football, I was able to focus and catch-up with the fellow Peace Corps volunteers.

Tuesday, December 27, 2011

Books, Coffee, Shoes, & Friendship

You can buy my love with books. (This year: Love in the Time of Cholera by Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Born to Run: A Hidden Trip, Superathletes, and the Greatest Race the World Has Never Seen by Christopher McDougall, Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me? (And Other Concerns) by Mindy Kaling, Seriously... I'm Kidding by Ellen DeGeneres, a national parks guide, and a Kindle gift card.)

You can buy my love with coffee. (This year: A Keurig--including K Cups and reusable filter, Starbucks gift cards, and a porcelain mug. To boot I was treated to my first CafĂ© GlacĂ© experience... and a final cup of Turkish joy!)
You can buy my love with shoes. (This year: Gold Glitter TOMS, Hunter Boots, and faux UGGs.)
But this year--2011, three marvelous people entered my life... and I think they are here to stay. In April I started corresponding with M.R.B., mother of fellow Peace Corps volunteer, J.P.B., and was later able to visit her outside of Boston, Massachusetts.
In August I made a virtual friend in H.M.M., at the time a soon-to-be and now currently serving Peace Corps Volunteer in Lesotho. Our exchange may be limited to email--the friendship, though, is intentional.
Lastly, in September, Latte Woman became a regular part of my life. And you have already heard plenty about her as she is regularly featured here(!!!). This is us our last 'playdate' of the year.
Each one of these women is older than me; together they have taught me a great deal about adult female friendships. I am astonished by the depth friendship can travel when women move beyond the cattiness that plagues our gender stereotype and into authenticity and trust. You cannot buy friendship.

Monday, December 26, 2011

Morning Me Time

Most of our company is still gathered... but after a two-hour morning stroll and a hot shower, I needed 10 minutes of this. 
"I'm having a me party
A party by myself
A me party
I don't need nobody else
Having a me party
I'm the first and last to show
There's no one at this party that I don't already know.
("Me Party" by The Muppets Original Soundtrack) 

Sunday, December 25, 2011

Merry Christmas

A Blood Mary lesson for J.W.M. from a 'Bloody Throw Down' winner. 
Christmas Eve Fondue.
Santa even made an appearance this year. 
Christmas Eve PJs. Need I say more...
 Our houseguest posing on Christmas morning in his "new" surroundings. 
This famous sweatshirt, which is older than me, is only worn on Christmas day. Our neighbor, S.J.M., has come to love this Christmas classic... never lacking an "excuse" to be photographed with Pops in gear. 
Puppy's first Christmas. He was swiped after tearing through boxes. 
The only two traditional Christmas evening photos we managed to snap. Few were to be distracted. 
We had a full day, but this has to be my favorite image of all. The neighbor sharing his Playstation 3, so C.D.H. could sample his FIFA 2012 game before reuniting with his own machine after the holidays. 
'Tis the Season.

Saturday, December 24, 2011

This Guy

That's right, folks, the Christmas Eve fondue is waiting... for C.D.H. He should be in the final minutes of his 10-hour trek home today. Since we cannot count on the weather to set the holiday mood, we are anticipating this guy's arrival; He may never outgrow the thrill of Christmas(!!!).

My wish from him is some one-on-one time; I sorely miss his company. This request was met with refusal and disapproval--he believes in tangible gifts. Either way, I have the fortunate opportunity of spending the holidays with him (and the rest of my family, of course).

I think he is pretty awesome.

Friday, December 23, 2011

Zoo Lights

I have been relocated from my bed of choice. I have been banned from certain food items to preserve the quantity necessary for cooking. I am not able to run my typical morning route. And my sleep pattern is out of whack. My 'normal' surrounding are in upheaval... but it is temporary. These guest are gathered at our house for a purpose, food is bulging out of the pantry for a reason, and holiday errands are being run all over the place with people in mind. So, at night, when the day is winding down, it seems necessary to stay up at tad later with 'my people' celebrating the season.

The stresses of the season frustrate me (in there own way... and more than most); we--the inviters, chefs, purchasers--bring these stresses upon ourselves, then allow the decisions to exhaust us. In too many words, I am hinting at my heinous holiday character. Each year, I attempt to prevent the 'Grinch' in me from revealing itself... and until hell freezes over, I will fail.

My coping mechanism has been altered this year. The weather in Northern Virginia has been quite balmy, and while the spirit of the season suffers, these temperatures are doing wonders for my outdoor need. Taking full advantage--I am seeking refuge outside. The result has been a positive correlation in Vitamin D time and mood. (I find having a better understanding myself, a joy in aging!)

The family--parents and brothers--love Christmas. The traditions--decorating each nook and cranny, buying and receiving presents, seasonal music, cooking festive meals, visits from Santa, and Christmas movies--continue. Not to be mistaken for materialism, the highest delight is found in the Christmas morning gift exchange. They speak 'gratuity' while my language is 'quality time.' They thrive on pouring love, thoughtfulness, and effort into each gift. This, to me, is a foreign language (undeterred by my having been raised by these parents in this house)! My simple-minded self needs an ounce of your time, the roads for running, and a (preferably full) Naglene bottle; these 'buy' my happiness.

Their stress is rooted in the rush of holiday madness. My frustration materializes in their actions... stress over hosting family (unconditional love?), preparing recipes made year after year (seasoned?), and shopping for frivolous wants. To really make a statement: It all seems dumb!

My tolerance level for spirit and vigor bursts around this time (Re: Grinch, Failure). I wish I could lock-it-up... it should be hard to be frustrated by the sparkle in their eyes, the energy, the wonder... of their Christmas anticipation. I am a holiday joy-sucker.  

Since I am the sole person with a 'nature' requirement, I am in charge of scheduling the outdoor activities. Tonight we traveled to National Zoo in the district to witness the lights, and, I think, few were disappointed! The animals might have been tucked away in their geothermally heated pens, but they made a fine showing in light form. 
When we arrived home, to their preset-to-bake ham and potatoes meal, I felt refreshed. I escaped the confines of the house, stretched my legs, was frisked by the chill in the air, and was in the company of 'my people.' I might have my cure.

Thursday, December 22, 2011

Her News

If it is not one excuse, it is another. This time I have been away as a result of faulty internet. The ‘disconnect’ came at a respectable time; I was in need of a reprieve, from the search for employment above everything else. I will not pretend I missed it. Unemployment update: Will wash dishes for food. Will clean houses for rent. In all seriousness, my resume has been stuffed with key words and after composing over 60 cover letters, one would figure I have this process down to an art. I have done a ‘heck ton’ of networking—an unimaginable chore—too. The reality of being offline is an uncomfortable amount of free time on my hands—everyone will be receiving Christmas cards this year(!!!). (And if this paragraph seems out of place... this post was pushed back a couple days to address other happenings.)

Before you get carried away in these words, let me inform you of my current state. I have been on edge… of the highest cliff—like break-down on the phone, break-down in public, break-down over spilt milk… hardly slept a wink all week, engulfed by the most heartbreaking of memoirs. This is not necessarily a bad place to be, it is a dreadfully moody—do not cross me—place. My mom is bearing the weight of it… seeking new residence as of January 4, 2012. Any takers? The out-lashing is partially justified, or so I believe. Mom has always been one to (over) share my story; not in a boastful manner, instead she carries on no different from all mothers. She is inclined to feel that her daughter is a superior being endowed with only the greatest qualities. This time, rattling her mouth to one too many neighbors and relatives, I have to tell myself she is excited for me, not shameful she raised an unemployable daughter.

The announcement (before you receive a personal note from Mother): In January, I am heading to Costa Rica, Nicaragua, and Panama with a friend. My grandma took me to Costa Rica when I was in high school, while K.F.A., my travel mate, studied abroad in Costa Rica during college; between the two of us, we have a fair lay of the land. This will certainly be an adventure of fresh experiences, though not a take-your-breath-away vacation. (For comparison sake, I am infinitely more eager for New Orleans than Costa Rica, round two.) Costa Rica is an outdoorsy tourist’s paradise. This is news we are familiar with—we are fulfilling a longing to return to the heavily touted territory. Nicaragua and Panama, on the other hand, might electrify those reevaluate life emotions. (Stay tuned.)

This secret lingered on the backburner as a protection mechanism. I am done justifying my life. This is my story, and I will continue to write it with minimal input from others. My parents, predominantly Dad, are against the trip. Explaining the decision to them merely fueled my determination to be hush hush about the looming journey. I do not want to reason this out for everyone. I understand the concern—my parents think my breaking for travel each time I get discouraged has been unproductive thus far. This might be true. But again, this is my life, and I am not guaranteed tomorrow. To this I am a witness. And because most of ‘my circle’ does not have the international bug, they cannot always comprehend. Do I sit here and wallow in the misery of being an unemployed 24-year old living at home? Or do I proactively make a change? This is the time of my life to take this type of vacation. 

To further protect myself from the unsolicited advice of the outside world, I customarily have a ‘monkey bar’ approach to life. I find letting go difficult unless I am latched on to the next phase of life. This ranges from releasing information, redecorating a plan, or opening ‘my inner circle’ for new friendship; I cling to my comfort zone until the leap is well thought out. This Central American escape is out of the ordinary in the sense there is nothing to return to for. I am not trying to be melodramatic—I have family, friends, and shelter, I am lacking accountability. K.F.A. will come back for dental school. For her, the audience can easily validate this trip as a celebration or a last hoorah before she enters the next level of school. My life is without plan, the plan was broken—it is still being repaired.

If you ask my mom, she will tell you a different story. She will insist this is a break in the monotony of home life before I buckle down on the prerequisites for nursing school. Her hopes lying in the possibility I could accomplish this goal before the start of the fall semester. This is a viable option. One I have considered (A career in nursing—the hours (namely), the interaction with people, no cubicle, and (international) travel—meets my criteria.)… and resent (I have an undergraduate degree in biology. Why why why do I need additional classes to get a SECOND UNDERGRADUATE degree in nursing?). Though this is leading the way in options, I fear plans after watching my own dismantle way beyond my control. This coupled with my indecisiveness, which is deeply misunderstood as a result of my multitude of opinions, makes settling on the nursing school path seem limiting. I do not want to lead a life of going through the motions. I need to keep my options open. I can change my mind, pro and con, thousands of times between today and tomorrow and be okay with this. When plans go public, mass confusion ensues when strategies are altered. I have yet to discover an appropriate tactic for handling this dilemma.

Now I feel vulnerable having exposed myself. I have not even processed the meaning of five weeks away or paid for the plane ticket. Those are none of your concerns—be merry and bright—for you individuals are up-to-date on my next step. From here on out, do not feel excluded—I have my issues, my growing up to do. In this moment, I will go—go on to Central America—happily, healthily, and safely. Surprise adverted.  

Wednesday, December 21, 2011

My First Cookie Exchange

My Sweet Neighbor hosted a cookie exchange on Sunday. I felt honored to be invited and grown-up participating! As a child, I can remember staying up late on cookie exchange night--waiting for Mom to come home with the assortment of the year. Below is the 'hostess with the mostest' opening a few gifts...
Poor N.J.M. was feeling under the weather... and still went through with the occasion. In these Northern Virginia parts, she is famous for her soup--whipping up two pots in her condition. And for fear that you forgot how her 'Sweet Neighbor' titled came to be, yet another reminder--she made BOTH soups vegetarian. This woman is a gift, she "does" extravagantly.
The concept of the event is quite simple, if you actually bake. I do not cook. I do not bake. I burn. I over-add. I forget ingredients. Disaster ensues when I enter the kitchen. Usually I have Mom to bail me out, but she had her own five dozen cookies to prepare. This time, C.J.R. rescued me. On her drive from Charleston, South Carolina (where she is in school) to Boston, Massachusetts (where she is from), I am her stop-over. I allowed her to unwind, prior to enlisting her help. We talked the evening hours away with a coffee date at the local joint... where we stayed past closing... not realizing they do not compete with Starbucks' hours. Then we (inhaled) a gourmet dinner cooked by my parents. I should have let her go to bed following our late meal, in order to insure she had adequate rest for her second leg, another nine-hour journey. I granted her no such permission, I instead insisted she make cookie dough (for my share at the upcoming party) while I did dishes. Then I promptly froze the dough, did not allow her a single cookie! And we were off to sleep peacefully, knowing I would have home-made cookies come Sunday.

This is how our swap worked: You bake a lot of cookies. (Like I did, fresh on Sunday after thawing.) You package the cookies. (Like I did, attempting to bring an eco-element to the occasion...
or like Latte Woman did, with gorgeous--over the top--festive holiday decor.)  
You go the exchange. (Like I did, after showering.) You eat a lot of cookies. (Like I did!) You swap cookies. (Like we did, after sampling.) You bring home an overwhelming amount of cookies. (Like I did, double because I had a mother in attendance.) You do not know what to do with all these cookies. (Like I wondered, no longer having an appetite for cookies.)
Be merry (and fat!). Or thankful you have Latte Woman, featured above, as dedicated partner in exercise.

Tuesday, December 20, 2011

Morning Adventures and More

I met Latte Woman early this morning to carpool to the 8:30 am kickboxing class at her gym. We had to be there half-hour prior to start to stake claim in the combat zone, apparently gym going women wage war over classroom positions. Instead of guaranteeing front row, mirror seeing territory, we might or might not have slowed for a game along the way... which inadvertently would set the mood for the morning of adventures.

For the sake of ease, I often reply, "District of Columbia," when questioned on my place of residence.  What I really mean is way way way out in the country--long windy roads, quite a distance from sprawl, an area flooded with more deer than people. Though, you could argue, my town is disguised suburbia, with the added excitement of many dirt roads. And on these dirt "roads" are ice-covered ponds. True story, no exaggeration.

So weaving over the ponds and through the woods--to the gym--Latte Woman and I went... when a royal blue Honda Fiat started to tailgate us. Erring on the cautious side,  Latte Woman was not having this. She slowed from 10 to five miles per hour for the next mile. The Fiat Man continued to push the limit as she pushed the brake. The end eventually came. We are laughing hysterically, knowing we had agitated this driver. (Not exactly nice. Do not tell Santa. I am counting on those gold glitter TOMS!) The right turn on to civilization had not even been completed... and he was in motion to pass. (He is dumb. This is a dirt to pavement turn. On a solid-lined curvy road. With heavy school traffic in both directions.)  We were given the middle finger... which only fueled our giggles. This reaction was classic. (Predictable people bore me!) The middle finger was not enough--he proceeded to angrily fist-shake for as long as he remained in sight, which was a short time as he sped off; he had much ground to make up.

A bit guiltily, at the expense of the emotionally poor Fiat Man, our ultimate goal--fun, ahem safety, was accomplished. The classroom was filling as my nerves settled in. I am a stick-to-what-you-know girl, specially when exercise is involved. New experiences have potential to be grand, be that as it may, I am easily frustrated by the learning curve of new skills--ones that take a bit more work. I was going to be brave, swallow my pride, for this hour of kickboxing. I survived. I was far from perfect. The quick-paced routine did not jive well with my lack of coordination. I felt insure going left when the group was punching right. As a child everyday is about navigating the ropes of new activities, rules, subjects, etc.  I aspire to embrace the patience, and often encouragement required, to increase my comfort level for the unexplored areas of life. And while I certainly ruled 'kickboxing instructor' out of my future, I am not opposed to giving the student role another go. (I had to tuck this nugget of 'lessons I'm learning' in. A new experience can be classified as an adventure.)

When class ended, we climbed on the StairMaster. My relationship with this machine was over before it started. This is quite a different muscle group from the running set. Drenched in sweat, we departed for Global Food... and could not pass up Starbucks on the way. (Hooray for reusable mugs!)
Here, I knocked over a perfectly displayed shelf. If the noise of bouncing plastic was not loud enough to demand attention, the laugh from Latte Woman was. Together we managed to repair the shelf and not-so-neatly display the contents... when Latte Woman mimics my klutzy maneuver. We were not well received, for the second time today.

The coffee was supposed to put us at ease. It might or might not have revved up my enthusiasm, already at a high--I have been dying to explore Global Food. (We, the H's, are running a three-drivers-to-one-car operation. My nonexistent paycheck makes me a low priority on the totem pole.) Latte Woman is a local at Global Food, but she happily futzed through each isle with me.

I might or might not have said, "in Lesotho... " one too many times because at one point I was demonstrating 'my life in buckets' when I found the exact replicas. (Lesotho was not actually being represented, business in Lesotho is predominantly Chinese-owned. If you are in the market for some cheap, brightly colored, plastic I recommend purchasing these in Lesotho, the price tag, in dollars, is read in Rand over there. The exchange rate is not 1:1, not even remotely close.)

As I jumped in the bucket with Starbucks in hand, Latte Woman shouted, "They do NOT have Starbucks in Africa!" The Store Manager promptly addressed business in our isle. Not before we had our fun:
Other highlights: Being read to in Farsi. The discovery of guava paste. Impressively low priced produce. And an introduction to Latte Woman's favorite Korean dish.

Then we continued with her errands, which became my errands, before deciding we were hungry and should make headway home....

To this discovery in route:
The Virginia Department of Transportation made the executive decision to administer a lesson in karma. Caffeinated to an extreme, we took the teaching in stride. The 30-minute delay passed with excess laughter and 100 pictures to document the occasion. This might or might not have been the funniest thing ever.

I am still laughing... envisioning Fiat Man's extended finger... and remembering the delightful tone this set for our morning.