Fall Getaways

Without a doubt, fall is my favorite time of year.  Even though I know fall will eventually leave me and I'll have to take up a tumultuous affair with winter, I still love it.  Matt and I have taken advantage of this most wonderful of seasons with a few stereotypical autumn getaways.

We went apple-picking in Westminster, Maryland.

(and nearly risked our lives climbing trees)

And we celebrated our anniversary in Frederick, Maryland.  Since this was a milestone anniversary, Matt let me handle all the details.  I booked us a room at a wonderful bed and breakfast, much to my husband's chagrin, as evidenced here by his "this is what people who stay at bed and breakfasts look like" pose:

That night, we enjoyed a "Taste of Frederick," opting for drinks and appetizers at Volt, the trendy hotspot, and dinner at the more affordable and low-key (yet equally tasty) Acacia down the road.

Our waiter at Acadia was a rather uptight young man named Frank.  Matt thought it would be hilarious to say to him, "I have to be frank..." then say something ridiculous.  For the rest of the meal, every time he saw Frank coming, Matt would threaten to say something like, "I have to be frank: this food is terrible," or "I have to be frank: have you ever waited on anyone before?"  Thankfully, restraint won out.

The next day, we visited some of Frederick's historic covered bridges.  All "Madison County" jokes aside, they were nice.  Anything historical is always nice.  But they were just bridges.

This fall has been one of great family time with Matt.  I'm so lucky to have a husband who indulges my frou-frou whims and finds ways to laugh at the seemingly mundane.  Memories like these make our endless love affair with winter just a bit more bearable.

Curling Craziness

In what appears to be a never-ending stream of Scandinavian influence on American culture, curling frenzy is sweeping the nation--pun very much intended. Maryland is no exception.

I've recently learned that some of my Swedish relatives have been curling for decades. This may explain why I took so naturally to it when we tried our hand at curling last weekend:
Yes, I'm really sliding across the ice. Yes, I look like an Olympic champion. And, yes, I did fall on my face when both rocks slipped out of my hands and my feet slid backwards.

While Matt lacked my Olympic form, he did manage to stay upright the entire time.

Curling was definitely harder than it looks. Unlike most other Olympic sports, however, Matt and I agreed that we could probably master it in about a week...two tops.

Labor Day is just a walk in the park

Or, more accurately, it's a hike through Patapsco Valley State Park with Matt and Barley.
Thank you, labor unions, for the 5-day work week, the consecutive-day weekend, and time to relax and enjoy my beautiful family.

Arrogant alpaca and paper-pushing poultry

Matt and I went to the Maryland State Fair last night. The highlights of the trip were found in two of the animal buildings.

For some reason, Matt has always had an alpaca aversion. He says they're the stuck-up kid of the animal world. As soon as we came around the corner and saw this guy, Matt said, "Well, well, well. Look at this smug jackass."

He said it was the hair, like the alpaca was trying to look like Prince from the Purple Rain era:

And for me, there's nothing like a little signage snafu to make an outing worthwhile. Was it really necessary to add "office" to this sign? Were they concerned that people from Baltimore would have otherwise thought that the two men sitting inside were poultry? "Wait. Those guys don't look like roosters. I don't get it."

Dar-licious

What a great way to say good-bye to summer vacation. This weekend, Matt and I saw Dar Williams at a tiny performance venue in Annapolis, Ram's Head (Take notice of that apostrophe, "Rams Head," and please add it).

Since high school, Dar's music has been my constant companion. When I've been lonely, her music has comforted me. When I've struggled, her music has lifted me up. When I've rejoiced, her music has celebrated with me. Every time I think back to an amazing life experience, I remember also the Dar Williams song that accompanied me on the journey. Somehow, I remained calm enough to tell her this, even though the meeting moved me to tears. I'm so grateful that I had the chance to tell her what her presence through her music and her lyrics has meant to me.

For those who aren't familiar with Dar Williams, I encourage you to visit her website and listen to her music. If it sparks even a fraction of the emotion it's sparked in me over the last ten years, it will be worth the visit.

In the meantime, here are videos of a couple of my favorite songs, "I Won't Be Your Yoko Ono" and "After All." They're great examples of how diverse her songs are and what an amazing lyricist she is.

The Great Howard-County Get-Together

Matt and I went to the Howard County Fair last weekend. I tried hard not to, but I couldn't help comparing it to the Minnesota State Fair, aptly subtitled "The Great Minnesota Get-Together." I would never have compared the Carver County Fair to the State Fair, so this obviously wasn't the least bit fair (pun most definitely intended). I must be going through a bout of homesickness.

We ate some yummy fair food, but even crab cakes aren't cheese curds:

We saw all sorts of animals, but we didn't really get to pet any of them (look at the way they were facing):
Besides, all the animals had "makes delicious pork" and "always tender and juicy" signs hanging over them. I mean, I always knew that Piggy Mama was destined for a life as premium bacon, but there was never a need to broadcast it. Minnesotans are too polite, even to our livestock.

And the exhibit on Maryland farms (and there is a surprising abundance of farming in Maryland), while obviously a lot of fun, was just an unairconditioned trailer on the back end of the fair. There were no kids climbing on tractors. No one was looking for their family's name on a "Century Farms" list. No one was learning about what their state actually does, nor where the literal fruits of its labor actually goes.

In short, no one was embracing their inner agrarian...their inner Minnesotan.

Summer of Visitors

Our house has been less like a single-family home this summer and more like a bed and breakfast. It's been wonderful to entertain friends and family from across the country. Rather than compose a lengthy post for each visit, I thought I'd try to sum up each with just a couple photos. This was not an easy task.

When my college friend Andrea visited, I took her to her first Orioles baseball game (which necessitates trips to my favorite neighborhood bars):
...and she took me by the White House. After nearly four years here, I can't believe I've never walked by 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue:

When my parents and sister visited, we went to Gettysburg (no shocker there):
...and we spent a day at the beach. Okay, so we were near the beach.

When former coworkers/bestie friends Rebecca and Anna visited, we spent an evening peering into the lawn of 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue from the rooftop bar of the W Hotel (can you see the sniper on that big white house behind us?):
...and we spent far too much time (though not nearly enough money) trying on nearly every shoe in my favorite store, Ma Petite Shoe:

I love how unique the experiences of each of our visitors were. I also love how living here gives us the chance to see the amazing places that surround us with a unique perspective every time someone new comes to town. The doors to our bed and breakfast are always open. Please come back soon.

Life is Just a Day at the Beach

Ah, summer vacation!

Matt and I took a mid-week trip to the beach this week.


The weather was perfect, the views were amazing and the beach was deserted. On the flip side, Matt got stung by a jellyfish and we both got some nasty sunburn. Yes, the lives of a government employee and a teacher are rough this time of year, but we're making do.

The big purse

I am not a big purse person. Some have even commented on my lack of understanding of those who carry a big purse. This may be true, but there is one instance in which I dig out my one and only big purse from the back of the closet. There is one time, usually every 2-3 months or so, when being frugal trumps being fashionable: a trip to the movies.


I bought this purse backpack solely for the purpose of smuggling contraband food and beverages into movie theaters. My all-time greatest feat was to carry in an entire angel food cake, along with assorted beverages. Over this holiday weekend, Matt and I went to see The Hangover, and the purse made its appearance once again, stuffed to the brim with a bag of microwave popcorn, 2 cans of pop, some cookies and a jumbo bag of Swedish Fish. This was hardly my record, but it still took some creative maneuvering.

Even though I'm nearly 30 and never get stopped by movie theater personnel anymore (since most of them are either half my age or three times it), I still get a rush from my movie theater smuggles. I spend most of the car ride to the theater arranging and rearranging the items in the bag so that it doesn't bulge strangely or expose any food. I bring a sweater along with me "because theaters are so cold," and strategically drape it over any food or drink that may poke out the top. My heart jumps a little when I walk by the "No outside food or beverage" sign, and I feel a sense of smug satisfaction when I look at the prices for movie theater food. I wait to pull out my popcorn or open my can of pop until the lights are low and the previews are loud, just in case a staff member is lurking. And when the movie is finally over, I pick up the big purse from the sticky floor and leave an empty microwave popcorn bag in the cup holder: a calling card, if you will, to let the theater know that the big purse and I have won this round.

Dear Tourmobile,

Last week, while my family was visiting from Minnesota, we purchased tickets for your “Twilight Tour” of the monuments. We arrived to the Tourmobile in plenty of time, but were surprised and disappointed when the bus was already full. As more and more frustrated people assembled on the sidewalk behind us, we all began to assume that we’d have to wait until the next night for our tour. Then, we met Larry.

Larry was to be a guide on the bus for your guests with disabilities and had no intention of leading a separate tour that evening. Without hesitation, however, Larry began to make calls and organize for a second tour bus and driver. Somehow, he managed to transform 50 hot, angry tourists into 50 happy, laughing people, all of whom were already thankful that the first bus was full.

As the evening went on, Larry continued to go out of his way for all of us. I’ve been on several Washington, D.C. tours with many visitors, but I’ve never had a guide as knowledgeable and personable as Larry. At the end of the evening, when our tour ended later than expected, he even offered to give guests a ride to the Metro instead of simply leaving them at Union Station.

When I first found out how oversold our tour was, I vowed to use another tour company with future guests. Thanks to Larry, I am a lifelong Tourmobile customer.

(Sent June 30th)

Crime, Punishment and Typos

Matt and I visited the National Museum of Crime and Punishment in D.C. last night. We've done the Smithsonian thing dozens of times, so we're branching out into the lesser-known museums. This particular museum is offering $6 tickets for local residents this summer. It was worth $6, but I wouldn't suggest paying the everyday price of nearly $20.

While the museum was light on actual artifacts, it was heavy on cheesy photo opportunities:


My personal highlight of the museum was the opportunity it provided for some classic Matt one-liners:

"I think I could live in jail. Think of all the reading you'd get done. Do prisoners have access to the Internet?"

"I could be in the mob. I wouldn't be one of the killers though. I'd be the brains behind the operation."

Unfortunately, my overall enjoyment of the museum was marred by the overwhelming amount of typos and grammatical errors. Some, such as commas outside quotation marks and misplaced hypens, were mildly irritating, but others, such as misspellings, flubbed punctuation and missing words, were inexcusable for a national museum. Because nearly every sign had at least one error (sadly, that's not hyperbole), these are just a few of the worst errors:

Bonnie, of Bonnie and Clyde, was like Shirley Temple, not Shirley temple.

How closed quotation marks became a capital O with an accent is beyond me.

We both had to read this middle paragraph three times to understand it.

I don't think that's a question?

Spell check doesn't catch everything, and I doubt Nick Nolte was locked up because of his car's potty mouth.

Opposite Day at Camden Yards

The Twins were in town last Thursday, so we assembled much of our little immigrant community and headed to the game. We bought $45 tickets from a scalper for $15, then sneaked into the bleacher section anyway: opposite day.

Sadly, the Twins lost both of the mere two games they're playing in Baltimore this year, but we still had a great time at the ballpark:


Note all the jalapeños, which made for a particularly rough Friday morning:

"They're still good."

Matt is still laughing about this sign:

It's sad how few Twins players I know now. I'll learn all their names by the post-season, I swear.

And, of course, the obligatory usher picture for my dad. This man didn't care that he was in the bleachers. He was in charge, and we knew it.

After the game, we headed to Pickles, where Matt warmed up his cornhole skills. Little did he know how soon they would come in handy! More on that in a later post. Stay tuned.