2013 – Four Weeks In

I drafted this on January 28th and never posted.  So here you go, a double whammy of blog posting, because I’m going to attempt a 10 on Thursday just as soon as this coffee kicks in.

4 weeks in and this year has started with a bang.  No time to adjust.  Or to get one’s bearings.  In such a way that I’ve been hoarding soup– chicken noodle, lentil soup with sausage, carrot and ginger, a single serving of wild rice soup with ham and a full tupperware of chicken stock– in my freezer.  I’ve taken up running, like actual running, with feels both good and the current fool proof way to quiet my brain.  I’ve also been calling my parents a lot.

There have been a series of mini-earthquakes, although the earthquakes are not my own.  I won’t say much about them on these pages, other than if you have a spare candle to light, do so for Roommate A’s family.  Or get on your benders or click your beads, as my family would say. The one thing I will say is that situation has taught me that we, as a household, have developed an amazing circle of friends.  Something that you always know, but really recognize in the face of these mini-earthquakes.  It’s nice to be reminded that people are good.

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My new boss started a couple weeks ago.  She is decisive and smart and to the point, which I appreciate.  She stood next to my desk her first week, as I explained one thing or another, and reached for an open box of Triscuit crackers I had sitting on my desk. “I’m starving, can I have a few?” she asked, while simultaneously opening the box and reaching in.  I decided to like her immediately.  She’s going to make my brain hurt and stretch me outside of my professional comfort zone.  It’s going to be stressful and great.

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On one of those gorgeous 50 degree days we had a couple weeks back, I decided to bike myself to Georgetown for a little window shopping.  By the time I reached Wisconsin Avenue, my jeans had worn completely through on the thigh.  So I took that opportunity to purchase a new pair, since I was in the perfect location– same brand, style and almost the same color.  Just one size down.  Look at me go.

I was out with a friend this morning, on a coffee and botanical garden date.  It’s been cold in D.C. the past week (by D.C. standards at least) and the warm, humid air of the botanical garden, with a good book and a Starbucks latte, is good for the soul. I walked to the gym afterwards, wearing my new jeans, that you should know I’ve washed twice.  As I peeled them off in the gym locker room, I noticed my legs were dyed blue from hip all the way down to my white crew socks.  Fun for me, I only had shorts in my locker. The ladies watching my scrub my legs with a white, soon to be light blue, gym towel must have thought I was crazy.  Sometimes, I feel the same way.

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I’m online dating.  Which, as I’ve said, is an exercise in rejection.  As it turns out, match.com really drives that point home.  I tend to email eligible bachelors from bed on Saturday mornings, as I’ve decided, for the next few months at least, that getting out of bed at a specified time or to an alarm clock on Saturday mornings is absolutely unacceptable. Sometimes I email people I think I actually could be interested in.  But mostly it’s for sport.  Or curiosity.

As it turns out– on match.com, if the person in question you’re messaging isn’t interested, you get the following email: Some people just don’t now a good thing… [Username] isn’t interested right now. He appreciates your taking the time to write, but just doesn’t think it’s a good match. Don’t be discouraged. Magic happens when you least expect it. With millions of singles on Match.com, you could be just a click away from finding someone who’s right for you. This seems incredibly unnecessary to me.  Thanks, dude.

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Also, Barrington’s birthday was this weekend.  So happy birthday, Barrington!  I texted him my well wishes and he responded– you almost forgot.  Yes, I did almost forget.  But I didn’t. While we’re at it, it was my father’s birthday last week as well.  In his honor, we went out for cocktails– American honey on ice for me and Johnny Walker for him– and sushi on H Street.  He’s still got it.

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