Taste the Rainbow

Eat me.

Dreams

My sister's cat, Duchess (aka The Crypt Keeper), took a nap on my lap this weekend.  She's sweet but has become incredibly needy in her rather advanced age.  I like her best when she's like this:

As soon as I wake up, I'm going to annoy you.
Just FYI...

 

Irritating or not, I'd like to think this happy picture is representative of her dreams.  That'd be rad.

Happy or not, I'm still going to annoy you.

(Saturday, January 28th)

Dark and Stormy

Clouds like these never bode well for my commute to work.

This makes NoVA drivers stoopid.

Some may say my interest to clouds adds to my special flavor of "crazy" (akin to my designated drawers and anal rules for socks, perhaps), but I think it's important to have a variety of interests.

Also, clouds are preeeeetty.

(Thursday, Jan 26th)

Like a Boss

Books.  I read a lot of books.  So many books.  After my recent visit to Arlington National Cemetery where my oh-so-darling little sister peppered me with question after question about the cemetery (“How do you get to be buried here?”  “Why are some headstones bigger than others?”  “Can we leave yet?”), I was inspired to pick up (and by “pick up” I mean “download onto my Kindle”) a book about the cemetery in hopes of  answering some of those annoying questions.

What did I learn in the first paragraph?  The intrepid Arctic Explorer, Rear Admiral James E. Peary, is buried at the cemetery.  ROBERT E. PEARY!  How did I not know that?!  Why is he so important?  I'm so glad you asked.  Sit back, pull up a chair and I'll tell you a tale.

...

Actually, no I won't.  I don't have time to tell you the whole story, I have shit to do.  Stop hounding me.  We're not at the library; this isn't "story time".  Do what any other self-respecting pursuer of knowledge would do:  look it up on the damn Internet like I did.  And get off my lawn!

*ahem*  Anyway.  On April 6, 1909, Peary was the first person to reach the North Pole.  There is controversy of course (haters gonna hate), but it's widely accepted that he, indeed, captured the flag.

Trifecta.

Buried along side him is his partner, Matthew Henson (who, incidentally, was initially refused burial there because of his skin color.  Laaaaame.  Reagan rectified that shit in 1987.)

I've got that same hat.

It was nice to see the Eskimo guides got a shout out as well.  They rarely get the respect they deserve, though they typically work just as hard, if not harder, than the leaders of the pack.

I throw my hands up in the air sometimes...

Thumbs up to explorers, I always say.

I'm almost as white as my earrings.

I think after all of the hardships, discoveries and sacrifices these men and their families have made and faced over their lifetimes, they'd find comfort knowing the neon lights of the Sheraton Hotel will be forever shining upon them.

Eternal neon.

... until the zombie apocalypse, anyway.

(Wednesday, Jan 25th)

Naked Feet?

No way.  Never.  Naked feet are an abomination.

...

Perhaps that is a bit dramatic.  I will traipse about with naked feet during the summer, but only when I'm out of my house doing fun things.  Once I'm home, if my shoes are off, socks are going on.  I can live no other way.

I have many to choose from.  One drawer of white-ish athletic, one of ... everything else.

So. Many. Socks.

I have favorites, of course.  Doesn't everyone?  Well, never mind...  I got these beauties for Christmas from my lovely sis-in-law.  They're warm, cozy, and mismatched on purpose, which I find delightful.

Photobomber.

I wear these to work a lot (hidden beneath work-appropriate shoes, of course).  They're very "business on top, party on my feet."

It's business time.

I got these in Germany in 2010 and they quickly became my favorite pair (evident by the rather large worn patch at the heel).  I found myself doing unnecessary loads of laundry just to wear them again.

Yes, I'm fully aware that my sock love is a bit absurd.
I'm comfortable with that.  And so are my feet.

Knee socks!

No, I wasn't in my room trying on socks today.  Who would do that?

I like me some thick, please-save-me-from-blisters foot coverings when I get my hike on.  Mmm... wool.

Wool touching any other part of my body is unacceptable.

Finally, when it's time to lay my weary head upon my dreamy-soft pillow, I don my tried-and-true, oh-so-perfect, white Hanes ankle length socks of joy.  They are America's #1 socks, after all.  Says so right on their website.

I love you...

I have tried sleeping without socks and it's ... it's ... just wrong.  I toss and turn, stare at the ceiling, try bunching the sheets around my sad feet, stare at the ceiling some more.  Nothing doing.  I will eventually give in because 1 - I recognize when the battle is lost, and 2 - I'm grumpy and stabby when sleep deprived (or hungry).  Obviously, sleeping sockless is not something I attempt often. 

I'm special.

(Tuesday, Jan 24th)

From the Desk of Heather

This is the view from my office window.  Yesterday was not a nice day.  Damn dreary, actually.

The view in my bed while wearing PJs is much better.

This little rock sits on my desk, underneath my monitor.  I pocketed it while sitting down for a quick snack on the summit of Kilimanjaro.  That wasn't very "leave no trace and don't steal shit" of me, but...  I don't have a justification.  I wanted it in my pocket, so in my pocket it went.  The end.

"Take me home with you, Heather."

Behind me is the dreary weather, in front of me is Antarctica, my dream vacation destination.  No, seriously.  That's not a joke.  It's happening in 2014.  Twenty.  Fourteen.  That shit is on.

I want to go to there.

(Monday, Jan 23rd)

Cold in Coney

Last weekend, I braved the elements and drove to Lonaconing, MD to visit Mindy & Eric.  As it turned out, the "elements" were minimal -- some freezing rain and a wee bit o' snow -- and listening to  Neil Gaiman's The Graveyard Book kept me well entertained on the way.  Three hours in the car?  No problem with Gaiman on-hand (or, in ears).

Mindy and her hubby have been working furiously to get her new studio/boutique up and running.

Pretty by Mindy!

I helped!   They painted, I took pretty pictures:

This is helping.  Really.

It's a good thing I was there.

The blue does look better on the shelf than on the cup.

Very soon I will have things on me.
(that's what she said)
(that doesn't really work, but I'm leaving it)

Eric made some ahhmaaaaazing chili (seriously, I wish he would bottle that shit) and I got to bring home what is clearly the greatest pillow ever made.  Behold:

Fear is the mind-killer.

This magical pillow was designed and sewn by Mindy.  She has a website.  You should go there and buy things.  And check out her blog.

THE SPICE MUST FLOW!

(January 20-21)

"Heeeere's Johnny!"

It's not just me, right?  This hallway is creepy?  I mean, I live here; I walk down this little corridor every day and I do so with a spring in my step and nary a glance behind me. 

 It looks even longer when I'm carrying groceries.

But every once in a while I stop and think "Where could I hide?"

(Friday, Jan 20th)

Today? Red Bull. Lots of Red Bull.

I wasn't feeling well last night and had a hard time coming up with something creative/interesting to photograph.  And, I'll be honest, I didn't try too hard.  So. Tired.  I did take 20 or so pictures, but they were all crap.

Instead of any of those, here is a silly picture I sent to The Stanley expressing my extreme (quiet, internal) excitement about our trip to Burning Man in 219 days.

Silent SQUEEEEEEEE!

Oops, Pardon Me

I ate too much asparagus.  

I am so gassy.

What is that gurgling sound?

This is going to be an uncomfortable night.

Whoops.  That one slipped out.  My bad.

Oh, that one too.

I may never eat asparagus again.

What is wrong with my pee?!

Demon Sink

My kitchen sink could not handle the excessive activity that took place Sunday morning.  It rebelled with a vengeance.

Possible opening scene for any Stephen King/Hitchcock/Lovecraft movie.

I called the front desk and Captain Maintenance showed up a bit later with a lecture and a dash of snark (guess he carries that shit around in his little tool belt).  More than worth it to avoid getting eaten by the demon sink, but come on.  I rent for a reason.  Fix my sink, dude, and keep your attitude to yourself.

After he stormed out with "I don't have time to fix this right now.  If it floods, it floods.", I went over to Roosevelt Island to snap a few pictures.

This about as close as I like to get to Georgetown.  Except when I need a cupcake, then I'll get closer.

It was *this* big!

It was cold and windy, but I came home to a clog-and-demon-free sink.  All is once again right in the world.

If You Can't Stand the Heat

... invite your mother to cook in your kitchen.

Quinoa Vegetable Soup, Vegetarian Chili, Cornbread

Ingredients

1 trip to the grocery store
42 dollars
1 mother


Directions

Tell your mother where to find things in your kitchen.  Encourage often.  Make appropriate "mmm" noises.   Enjoy.

I will cook all the things!

Dissolve and Saturate

Jan 14th was "Bond as a Family Before Going Back to School" day for Kristy (Now with parents! (picture not included)).

I love having an almost-DSLR camera and an aptitude for self-portraits, as they enabled us to dissolve into silliness and giggles at The National Arboretum.

Puffy coat is puffy.  Tilted head is tilted.

Kristy wins for Best Giggle Face.

I will eat your braaaains.

We were in public, but like the honey badger, I don't care.

Betwixt the giggling, I took pictures of flowers.  So many pictures of flowers.

(prettiest flower)

Next stop, the American Art Museum and fun with shutter speeds:

Head's up!  (bah dum tss)

 

Creepy, yeah?  Apocalyptic Horse?

Also, more clouds.

I took 60+ pictures,  tough to choose only ... nine.