I (didn't) feel the Earth move.

This morning the ground shook. The nation's capital had an earthquake this morning, and I slept right through it. That cat didn't, though, it freaked her out. She went berserk, running around the apartment, racetrack style, yowling. To be fair, sometimes she does this because she thinks I need to take a circuit and check the perimeter - at least, she settles down after I get out of bed and walk around. But not last night, she was not a happy camper. After checking the clock and seeing the number 5 at the front, neither was I. I convinced her - or yelled at her - and she contented herself with curling up right next to me as I rolled over. And for the next four hours, sleeping or waking, she was right there. It was only after I got to work and saw the news that I put it all together.

Poor fur, her mama's so oblivious. And planning to spend all morning tomorrow rolling over.

BNYC 2ME

That was a license plate I saw near the office last week. I thought, at first, that it was a plea based on the driving mentality of the DC area (see earlier post). It then occurred to me that the spelling could go two ways. Maybe the driver was looking for a nicer world. Alternatively, the spelling could indicate the driver's heritage - and no one who calls New York City home is looking for a more friendly driving experience. Nope, that driver is looking for commuting cohorts who know how to use the horn, and that driving slow in the left-hand lane is a cardinal sin.

In the end, I have no idea what that license plate is meant to say. I just know that one way, you've got a driver who should be living somewhere else, and another, an accident waiting to happen. Either way, it's a pretty stupid plate.

Road Warrior

As I was driving home yesterday (and that's still weird to say), I was struck by the lessons I've learned from driving in DC. During my car-free days, I was a hesitant driver, mostly because I was unused to it, or unused to the speed that was involved in not being on public transportation. There was also a healthy recognition that any vehicle I was driving was not mine, and damages are expensive. I'm overcoming that hesitancy, however, and not necessarily in a good way.

Blocking the Box. It took getting passed in the intersection twice, but I've learned that when turning left, you sit in the middle of the intersection, so that, at the very least, you can turn when the light turns red.

Kiss my Bumper. The idea of leaving a car length between myself and the vehicle ahead makes me smile indulgently at the naivete of non-city drivers. If there's enough space for a car, then a car is coming over, so ride that bumper, friend. This does, of course, lead to...

Doing the Jerk. Between following too closely, and the drivers who change lanes whether there's room or not, DC driving is an exercise in stop and start - even at 50 mph. It's a good thing I showed up early for the Prius brake recall.

Serenity Now! Whether it's a day of getting stuck behind cars moving 5mph slower than you want to be going, the guy who honks at you when you don't turn between the two Mac trucks, or the scatterbrain who almost changed lanes into the side of your new car, keeping your inner calm is a struggle. It's worth the effort, however, as I've noticed a marked change in fuel consumption depending on my mood. Because when you're angry, stomping on the accelerator and speeding away just feels good.

When the milk runs out…

The government shut down last week for four days, and Friday it was a late start day – I (wisely) opted to stay home that day, as well. The snow two-fer succeeded in shutting down the city, making a mess of the roads, and shutting down supplies – grocery stores ran out of everything from milk and bread to condoms (no joke), and even my local pub had to stop serving food one afternoon.

Luckily, having been out of town for the three weeks prior and coming home to bare cupboards, I had stocked up – I had treats from Trader Joe’s, plenty of coffee and milk, and a cabinet full of red wine. Not to mention a five pound bag of potatoes, a bag of onions, and another full of oranges – proof that I should not be allowed in a grocery store without a list. In case you were wondering, it is possible to eat potatoes two ways in the same meal.

But what turned out to be the best thing on hand was something I’d gotten a month or more ago, and had been sitting in my fridge all along. Because after a tramp outside in the snow, or mid-afternoon when webmail has kicked you off again or yet another call gets dropped due to blizzard winds outside, nothing warms up a cuppa like a healthy dose of Irish crème.

So when the milk runs out, my coffee won’t have to go without.

...and then the crazy walked in.

Tonight I met Neighbor Girl at the pub. She lives not far from the pub in the opposite direction, and we linked up for dinner. At what would have been the end of a night when we both proclaimed we weren't staying out late, a "regular" walked in - he was looking for a particular bartender, but recognized Neighbor Girl. An hour later, and a fair bit of bad breath, Mr. Crazy was still talking to us, and Neighbor Girl nodded to the bartender to bring some extra beer our way - it was either that or I was going to abandon her to her fate and run home to bed. The downside of being a regular is being known to the other regulars. He meant well, but... he was crazy! Also, how come the crazies all know the famous people? At least, according to them.

polar bear bomb scare

Yesterday as I walked to work, I stumbled across one of those things that makes me smile and glad I live in a city, where madcap things happen. Someone had created a homeless polar bear, and he was rummaging through a trashcan. I smiled, a couple of high school girls screamed, which made me smile more, and then I got on my train and, in all honesty, forgot about it. Until later, when I stopped by the pub after softball. It turns out that my polar bear friend freaked some folks out. Later in the morning they called the cops, and the "unknown" nature of a mannequin dressed as a polar bear looking through a trashcan caused the bomb squad to be shut down. People were moved off the street, the Metro entrance was closed - you could still get on the Metro, but you had to cross the street - and the police dismantled the bear. Seriously. There's a story about it in the local paper. It seems like a slight over reaction.

beer, bartenders, and a drinking buddy

Twisted Thistle, Alex and Bill, and Rachael. Those are the things I found last night after a rough day back at work after vacation. They all make me very happy. This girl also got kissed last night, but if there's one thing I've learned, it's that boys come and go, but bartenders and drinking buddies are for keeps.

DC beats Boston on the 4th of July.

Argh. I started this post and then there was an error and Mozilla had to shut down, which means I lost what I typed. What junk. I was starting to tell the story of my do-nothing weekend. It sounds boring, but I was being pretty funny, so you'll have to tell me if I successfully re-create it. I'm doubtful.

There were a couple of ridiculously stressful weeks at work. It was so crazy I couldn't even take joy in saying, "I told you so." when my client admitted that he shouldn't ever say, "things will be less crazy after..." because things are never less crazy. This past week wasn't the race of constant deadlines, but I was tired from the weeks before and spent my time taking care of all the small things I pushed off while fighting more urgent fires. I had some thoughts of summertime in academia, lunches at the BU pub (two hot dogs for a dollar when you buy a beer!) out in the sunshine. That's nostalgia, not wishful thinking, by the way. Besides, down here it's too damn hot to stop and eat your lunch outside.

All this humidity has me in a bad place. It's sticky even when it's not sweltering outside, and when it is, I'm miserable. I used the phrase "hotter than blue sparkling hell" the other day, and it caused a good laugh among the co-workers. Momola's best friend says that a lot, and the goal of the past couple years has been to find the drink that can truly be christened "Blue Sparkling Hell." I just had a thought on that front, actually, so I'll keep you posted.

Anyway, with crazy work weeks and crazier weekends (I was out in the 'burbs both of the last two weekends and my calendar was jampacked for both of them) I ended this week - no I started this week, but it just carried through - exhausted. I left work on Thursday and had to force myself to go to the grocery store if only to prevent the necessity of having to go Friday during the day. My entire goal this weekend was recovery, and to accomplish that I planned to do as close to absolutely nothing as I could manage. I pretty much succeeded, and I'm here on Sunday night telling you that it was wonderful! I sat and read a book (Sleeping Dogs, by Thomas Perry - thrilling!) and watched some bad movies on tv (Blade is worse than I remember it being) and played some Samurai Sudoku online (man, that is an addictive logic game!). I did leave the house Friday night for the fireworks. I walked over to my friend Billy's house to stand on his roof deck in the drizzle waiting for the fireworks to start, and catching up with the boys I don't see often enough. We had a view of the Washington Monument, and in the mist the city lines were softened. It was like looking at a watercolor of the world. The fireworks had me impressed by the view, though someone had just said, "it's weird when you can't hear them" when from behind me I hear, "boom!" and there were a number of pops that followed - it was fireworks in the park in our neighborhood, and there more in the distance. So it was fireworks on all sides, including some folks on the street shooting off rockets that had to have been illegal, but were fun to see, nonetheless. The verdict? DC beats Boston on the 4th of July. I've always loved the Boston fireworks, but T-ing it down to the top of my office building, and facing a long walk or a crowded T ride back home, with fireworks that sold out last year to include commercial breaks for ABC (sell outs, it's worth repeating) just isn't the same as seeing not only the large scale show of a major city, but being surrounded by explosions of color and celebration - all in the comfort of your own little neighborhood. That's brilliant. And roof decks? I've not fully appreciated them in the past. It's easily ten degrees cooler when you're four floors up, and there's a breeze up there that doesn't ever touch the ground. It was lovely up there, and as I walked home later and marvelled at the moisture in the air that made foggy and fuzzy at the end of the block, I promised myself that I would have a roof deck some day soon.

The rest of my weekend? Fulfilled all my weekend dreams. I volunteered at the zoo on Saturday - the gorillas were in fine form and not only visible, but fairly active. There was lots of posturing and interactions, and that's always fun to discuss with visitors. This morning was breakfast with the boys - Christopher and Dirty Matt only, because Christopher left Jason at home to deal with the cable guy. I summoned the energy to do some laundry and a little work, but the highlight of my day involved a strawberry-banana milkshake when I broke out the milkshake maker. It's been a good day, a good weekend, and I'm a rested and happy girl. Hope you all had a good 4th of July - go Sox!