Dirt and Tulle

August 24th, still-dark-in-the-morning, the day I leave for Burning Man... Yep, this seems like the perfect time to recap July's challenge and talk to you about August's.

0.o

(That's my most favorite emoticon, by the way.  I challenge you to try to make that face in real life.)

What can I say?  The month got away from me.  Between work and friends and summer and strange (strange but attractive) people living in my house, I have been busier than a one-legged woman in an ass-kicking contest and between me, you and the fencepost, I have got to find better ways to manage my time.  Or I just need to learn to say "No!"  I cram my life, nearly every day, with 47 things to do.  I have lost the ability to just ... be; to have "Heather Time."  When I'm not at work, I MUST DO ALL THE THINGS AND SEE ALL THE PEOPLE!  Basically I cram my life so full of "busyness" that I leave no time for "stillness".  And let me tell you, folks, I am feeling the effects of that.  In my brain.  I feel like I'm losing myself in the shuffle of my life.  I am always going and rarely stopping to, I dunno, smell the fucking roses or something.  I can wax philosophical about this and get all self-analytical, which I would genuinely like to do in another post, but for now...

I'M GOING TO BURNING MAN IN MERE HOURS, PEOPLE!  Hours!  Today is the day!  I am packed, organized and I want to leave right now.  I've spent all week preparing for this most epic trip:

"What are you up to?"
"Oh, not much, just trying on weird shit for Burning Man."

This fedora?  Yeah, it is made of sequins, it lights up and flashes.  I want to wear it every day.  But only with the goggles on as well.  Obv.

A few days ago my living room looked like this:

Yes, that is a pile of tulle, why do you ask?

And now it looks like this:

Them motherfuckers is ZIPPED!

If you can't tell, I'm ridiculously excited about this trip. I honestly have no idea what to expect.  I'm a bit concerned about this whole "sudden dust storm" business, but I'm already picturing the worst environment imaginable, expecting the worst, and I'm still smiling like a goon.  I long for the experiences in life --whether they be good or bad -- and even if I'm dirty and gross and eating dirt every day, I'm going to be with a phenomenal group of people and I look forward to eating dirt with them.  At Burning Man.  'Cause that's where I'm going, Burning Man.  Burning. Man.  Man of Burning.

SQUEEE!

Ok, ok... challenges.  July was no swearing and work out every day.  I believe I made it three days without swearing at all, and those were not consecutive days.  It was much more difficult than I had anticipated.  I did exercise every day though, so yay me.  I succeeded with a challenge.

This month is "no caffeine", which I quickly edited to "no coffee, Red Bull, or soda, but I can still drink tea and chew Midol by the fistful."  It's going pretty well.  I've had a half a cup of coffee a few times, but once again, I accomplished what I wanted to when I started the challenge, which was to break the habit -- the *need* for a cup of coffee to start the day.

I was also going to do this whole thing about how I need to find ways to be more positive, blah, blah, yadda, yadda, but yeah ... I didn't have time for that shit.  Who has time to think about being positive?  Get a hobby, people.

I have so much more I want to write and I wish I would have found the time to do so over the course of the month, but alas ... I must go to BURNING MAN!

Maybe next month should be "Do Less Stuff" and then I could blog more about ... doing ... nothing.

Meh.  It'll never happen.

Hello Cupcake!

A few years ago – six, to be exact-ish – my body made the rash and misguided decision to no longer allow dairy into its delicate and rather fractious system.  A war was waged, finally resulting in my reluctant and anguished surrender to life as a Lactose Intolerant.  I learned to live without dessert, without the sheen of cheese bubbling and browning on top of baked ziti, without my mother’s butter and Velveeta-laden homemade macaroni and cheese.  Sure, there are dairy-free alternatives to both cheese and dessert, but let’s face it folks, none of them can compete with the likes of velvety cheesecake or Doritos dripping with chili con queso.  But, humans are remarkable creatures and like the many sufferers of all things dairy who came before me, I learned to adapt. 

Goodbye forever, dairy products.

Years go by.  I, for the most part, refrain from cheese and dessert.  It is not a life filled with pizza or molten lava chocolate cake, but it is a good life nonetheless.

Enter the cupcake craze.  Suddenly, cupcakes everywhere.  Do you know, dear readers, who cupcake dealers strive to accommodate?  Everyone.  Everyone, everywhere.  Not only do they bake delicious, delectable, buttery, creamy, lactose-filled cupcakes of all flavors and varieties, many have added gluten and dairy-free options to their repertoire to satisfy those less fortunate delicate flowers such as myself; we champions of label-reading, we "can-you-please-put-the-cheese/dressing/whipped cream-on-the-side" wretches.

The cupcake craze incited my journey to find the perfect, the best, the most drool-worthy vegan cupcake the world has to offer.  (And by “the world” I mean the “Washington Metropolitan Area”.)  I wanted to enjoy dessert again – not merely eat the dry, gritty, strange concoctions I was presented with as my only alternatives.  I won’t take the time to extol the virtues of the man fine cupcake establishments I have visited (and in some cases, frequented) over the years.  No one has that kind of time and the point of this post is to tell you about the near-orgasmic cupcake experience I had last night near Eastern Market in DC.

After a lovely stroll and dinner with the equally lovely and charming Katie and Kristy, we executed a quick Google search in hopes of finding a nearby cupcakery.  We were lucky enough to find Hello Cupcake a mere two blocks away.  With its ooey-gooey-happy pink awning, it was easily spotted.   Experience has taught me to always enter a cupcakery with an air of apprehension, as I have left many a shoppe feeling sad and disheartened when no Heather-friendly options were available.  But I was in luck last night!  Not only did I have options – I had THREE options.  A chocolate cupcake with chocolate, vanilla OR strawberry icing.  Choices!  I had choices!  I opted for a strawberry-iced cupcake because they’re a rarity in the vegan world and it looked oh-so-inviting.  Cupcake and ginger soda in hand, I settled down at the table and took a tiny taste of the icing.

(I love you.)

AN EXPLOSION OF FLAVOR!  DELICIOUS!  DELECTABLE! AND OTHER ADJECTIVES AS WELL!  It was thick and creamy, no weird grittiness or texture issues, no off-putting after taste.  The flavor was spot-on, the strawberries bursting through.  Is this too good to be true?  The cake bit has to be horrible, right?  But, no!  My socks were cleanly and swiftly knocked off after the first moist, chocolatey bite.  Again, no disconcerting texture issues, no cardboard-like consistency.  And a bite with both icing and cake?  A perfect, heavenly combination. 

I have found my cupcake mecca folks.  As an Arlington resident it couldn’t be more out of the way, but I will gladly venture there as often as my waistline will allow.  I still have two other flavors to try, after all.  Thank you, Penny the Pasty Proprietress for a truly surprising and enchanting cupcake experience.  I look forward to round two.

Hello Cupcake has two locations (and they deliver!).  I highly recommend a visit.

Dupont Circle

1361 Connecticut Avenue, NW
Washington, DC 20036
Just south of Dupont Circle, across from the Metro

Capitol Hill (Barracks Row)

705 8th Street, SE
Washington, DC 20003
3 blocks south of Eastern Market Metro

Ray's Hell Burger (MEAT-O-LICIOUS)

These will likely be the only words you'll read in this post because I believe the pictures will speak for themselves.

.... and scene.

Siblings, You'd Best Skip This One

Hello, boys and girls!  You know what today is, right?  It's meat day.  Meat Party.  A meat party in my mouth, to be exact.  It's meat-o-riffic.  Meat-o-licious.  Meatasbord.  Meatanza.  Supermeatifragilisticexpialimeatocious.  (I'd like you hear you say that one out loud.)

First stop, Harris Teeter.  No chance I'm going to eat that low-fat, non-greasy, boring-as-heck turkey sausage I have in my freezer.  After 30 days of no meat?  I don't think so.  Bring on the grease and fat.

That's what I'm talking about.

Just grab a handful and squeeze it out.

You are beautiful.

Your sizzle is a beautiful sonata; it's magic for my ears.

...ssssssssssss...

Oh, yeah, you get nice and black, sausage patty.  You get all hot and crusty.  I'll even give you a dash of maple syrup to help things along.  That's how much I care for you.

Who's got the nicest crust?
YOU'VE got the nicest crust.

Little patty is lonely and needs some egg friends.

Egg friends are the best of friends.

And now it's time for all of this to go in my mouth.

You are delicious and beautiful and I love you.

(Being a bit on the brown side, you may think those eggs look unappetizing, but you'd be wrong.  Wrong, wrong, wrong.  They're brown because they were cooked in SAUSAGE FAT AND GREASE.  Ain't nothing unappetizing about that.)

A perfect bite.

(You're a perfect bite.)

So that was my morning.  How was yours?

Corey Hart

I missed a basket.  The sunglasses basket.

I wear my sunglasses at night...
... after I take them out of their basket.

I couldn't let them go without giving them a proper send-off. 

*ting*

Ohh, you!

Tubular.

Look at my teeth.  LOOK AT THEM!

Obviously I will be keeping these forever.

And these.

Oh, and these.

But not these.

Am I fabulous enough for these?

I do not have a wide range of facial expressions.

There are multiple outfits in these pictures because I KEPT FINDING SUNGLASSES.  What the fuck is wrong with me? 

(I still love this challenge.)

(And, apparently, sunglasses.)

PELICANS!

I have alluded to my trip to Nevis a few times now in my little blog.  Now that I'm nice and drunk and it's been a month+, I suppose now's a good time as any to talk about it.  Really, there's no reason other than sheer laziness and procrastination for having not written about it sooner.

Here's the least you need to know:  My friends, Nick and Eliza, invited me and some other super awesome folks to join them for a week at Eliza's parent's house on Nevis, a wee island near St. Kitts in the Caribbean.  I accepted their offer and proceeded to have the most decadent, wonderful week ever.  Ranks in my top three vacations, along with Peru and Tanzania.  You also need to know there will be a lot of pictures.

A few months ago I posted this picture, my first mention of the trip:

I AM SO TALENTED!

I didn't see a shark, but I totally wore that bathing suit and there was lots of drinking.  That plane is pretty spot-on too.

We stayed in this house:

 

This house is on the market, but my secret wish is that it never sells.

But seriously, it was a beautiful house; they spared no expense and our every need was met and then some.

See how close I was in my artistic rendition?

I  lived in this pool.

That entire outdoor porch/patio area?  It had automatic screens we could put down, along with misting organic bug spray shit, to save us from the mosquitoes.  Ridiculous. 

We all flew into St. Kitts, but I got there a bit later than everyone else so I missed the public ferry.  I'm pretty sure I just hopped on some random dude's boat and made my way over to Nevis.  "Oh, here's a dock.  And a boat.  You going to Nevis?  Sweet.  Can I bum a ride?"  Yup.  I showed up at the house to find everyone wearing what are clearly the greatest t-shirts ever made:

I hate this picture of myself, so you just get my boobs.
Thanks to Nick & Eliza for dressing us in such fly gear.

It took me a bit to notice.  "Why is everyone wearing green shir....  OMG!  THAT'S MY ART!"  (This is one of those times I wish there was a 'sarcastic' font.)

<And then lots of super-fun-awesome stuff happened.>

Seriously though, everything about that week was glorious -- our dynamic as a group couldn't have been better; we fit together like happy little pieces in a silly, drunk puzzle.  We relaxed, we laid by the pool, we read books, we laughed, we cooked delicious food (actually, I should scratch the "we" from that sentence because I didn't cook a damn thing), some of us climbed a volcano, some of us went snorkeling/SCUBA diving, etc., etc.  The weather was perfect, the house was perfect, the week was ... damn near perfect.  I don't mean to sound all Pollyanna-wearing-rose-tinted-glasses, but it really was a phenomenal vacation.  I don't have have a single complaint and I wouldn't have changed a thing.  I probably could have napped more, but other than that...

The sunsets were breathtaking.

I want to live here forever.

And don't even get me started on the clouds.

So puffy.

The clouds are real, but these were enhanced by the "dramatic tone" setting on my camera.

Even the storms are pretty.

(Quick aside:  As I type this up and drink my wine, I'm watching "Iron Man" for the twelfth time and there was just a scene where Obadiah/Jeff Bridges was smoking a cigar all up in Iron Man/Tony Stark/Robert Downey Jr's face.  What the hell did his breath smell like?  Did he have stank cigar breath?  I think about this all time, during every single movie I watch, ever.  Do they have good breath during these close-up, smoochie scenes?  Is there a mint guy on stand-by?  Is he like the gaffer?  A mint gaffer?  Or is that just a draw-back of being an actor?  Living in a cloud of someone's stank breath?)

Get this man a mint!

Anyway.  There were also pelicans.

PELICAN!

I found it surprisingly difficult to sit around and do nothing all day.  Not nothing-nothing; I was up by 6:30 or 7:00 most mornings, immediately jamming myself into my bathing suit and propping myself up pool-side.  I breakfasted, read, floated and breathed it all in.  That's something.

My "how ridiculous is my breakfast location?" face.
With ears.

I did read a book or two and as I said, there were lots of fun shenanigans, but mostly we just ... sat around.  I've never lounged and relaxed so much in my entire life.  It was hard, ya'll.  Hated it.

What I hated most though was the leaving part.  It's never easy to go back to the "real world" after a vacation, but this one was surprisingly difficult.  I've always known my friends are awesome -- I wouldn't surround myself with a group of drama-queen-douchcanoes -- but I was amazed at how easy it was to spend a week with them.  Seriously, wouldn't change a thing.

PELICAN!

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)