Plan B

Now that I can walk to and from work, I find myself being better able to catch up on podcasts. (There was something about listening to talk radio in a packed, moving Metro car that made me want to verrrrpt. When I’m feeling ill, I prefer quiet.)

It takes me a couple of walks to get through an entire episode of This American Life, but I usually complete one segment per trip.

Today, I started segment #205: Plan B. The jist being that we all start out with a Plan A, and we all nearly end up switching to Plan B at adulthood and it becomes our life.

This is most certainly true for me, and for D (though I won’t speak for him more than that), and it’s something I’ve been struggling with for the last few months.

The problem is that up until recently, I’ve been happy with my Plan B. Plus, it turns out I’m pretty good at it and can make a good living staying right where I am. And, history tells me that as long as I’m working with and for the right organization, I genuinely like and get excited about my Plan B and can raise the visibility of worthy organizations in need of a lift.

The risks of trying to resume Plan A are obvious. Take a pay cut. Forgo benefits package. (Ugh. Obama: let’s get going on national healthcare, mmkay?) Take a chance at failure. Accept the possibility that I could be better at Plan B than at Plan A and/or that Plan B makes more financial sense for me, D and future little me and Ds (hello, cart! Meet horse!).

However, the payoff could be great. Fulfilled life goal. Continued education. Expanded worldview. Flexible schedule. Fame and fortune (ha!). And I suppose the risk is tempered by the fact that I can revert back to Plan B at any time. That’s what it’s there for, right?

The fact of the matter is that Plan A has felt like a dormant monkey on my back for the last five years, and I finally feel as if it’s been awakened, where it now hangs groggily, rubbing eyes and feeling confused.

So. What am I going to do about it? Quit my job? Probably not. At least not tomorrow. For now I’m kicking around a couple of ideas and generally soaking up the idea of what me + Plan A + D + the next year could look like.

Sigh. I’ve been waiting to get that out of me for awhile. Apologies for the self-indulgent post.

What about you guys? How many of you are living Plan B? How many of you daydream about going back to Plan A?

WTF, Area Rug?

In full disclosure, I’ve come down with some sort of freak summer cold, complete with a high-pressure head, watery eyes, hot flashes, the aches, shakes and the inability to sleep.

This is making me cranky.

On top of straight illin’, D and I are both busy at work and we have a mess of an apartment to deal with. It turns out we both brought a lot more into our shared living space than anticipated.

To cope with the inundation of stuff, I started a nice little large shopping list on Ikea.com to help us knock out our furniture and storage needs without having to spend all day at Target-on-’Roids.

While I have come to terms with the fact that we’ll be shelling out some money to make our accommodations more, um, accommodating, there is one item on my shopping list with which I cannot make peace: the area rug.

It turns out that area rugs, even at Ikea, are f*cking expensive. And in my Sudafed-induced crank-fest, I keep wondering why.

I’m essentially buying a big piece of carpet. I’ve seen all the Empire, Flooring Express and Carpet Exchange commercials—according to them, I can carpet one room for like three benjamins and get a second room done for free. So why the $800+ price tag for something a fraction of the size?

It’s not as if I’m looking to buy some hand-spun artisan piece from Persia. I just need something soft and stylish that will absorb some of the noise from our hardwood floors. And frankly, I’d rather save my hard earned dollars for new living room furniture rather than something we’re going to walk all over and spill salsa on. (It will happen.)

Right now, I’m considering buying a bunch of FLOR tiles and making my own damn rug. But at $4 a tile, it could still end up a costly endeavor.

So now I pose the question to you, oh, ye merry home owners and apartment dwellers: how have you made peace with your area rug? Any tips?

Operation: Cohabitation

Aside from having our movers cancel on us and D having to wait in line for two hours for a U-Haul, the move is going well so far. I’m trying to concentrate on the end result—D and me being together under the same roof—and less on how much moving (one apartment, let alone two) s-u-c-k-s.

Here are a couple quick iPhone snaps of the new place (first floor only). I’m looking forward to sprucing it up pending our Ikea trip tomorrow.

(No) Cup of Tea

What a strange and trying week it’s been.

Monday: Nine people died and more than 70 people were injured in the worst DC Metro accident in its history on the line I take to and from work.

Tuesday: Tornadoes in Iowa. While my friends and family are safe, my mother spent 40 minutes in the meat cooler of our local grocery store until storms had passed.

Wednesday: A high school football coach outside of my hometown was gunned down in the school’s weight room by a former player.

Thursday: Farrah Fawcett dies and Michael Jackson goes into cardiac arrest died. (Damn. Plus Ed McMahon? I guess things do happen in threes.)

Life can be full of weird and horrific things, can’t it?

Belle and Sebastian’s song, “For the Price of a Cup of Tea” helps inspire joy to counteract the feeling of fffff*ck.

Here, Gone and Back Again

I couldn’t have asked for a better Saturday.

We got in to Lexington late Friday night and were up early Saturday morning for the best yoga class I’ve ever been to. I had reservations about bikram yoga (hot), but I’ve never felt better. I’m looking forward to finding a hot yoga studio here in DC and, hopefully, becoming above average at it.

Despite wanting to take a nap after having massages, we pushed through and made it to the Woodford Reserve distillery for a tour. I’m not a big bourbon fan, but the grounds were gorgeous and we had a good time. (More photos and details on Flickr.)

The distillery was about 25 miles outside of Lexington, which provided for some really awesome scenery. Aside from the massive horse farms and stone walls, the rolling, lush hills of Kentucky reminded us a lot of Iowa.

We made it to the wedding in plenty of time, a casual affair held outdoors at a historic site near Lexington (of which I don’t know the significance, but it was beautiful).

After some live bluegrass, drinking [more] Kentucky bourbon and hanging out with D’s old friend from Korea (I love saying that—sounds like the war, right?), we packed it in and readied ourselves for a morning trip back to DC.

Which is where we are right now; D at his place catching up on work, and me at mine, where I’m packing up the house in preparation for our move next Saturday. More on that soon.

Hope you all had lovely weekends and are feeling ready to tackle another week! (Said with gusto, to help convince myself that I’m ready to tackle another week.)

Lex, Ken

A couple of fun facts about our impending weekend trip to Lexington, Kentucky:

• D accidentally booked our flight to Louisville instead of Lexington (where his friend is getting married)
• Lexington is the horse capital of the world. Unfortunately we will not be riding any as D is severely allergic to them.
• We have a full day planned tomorrow, including yoga, brunch, massages and a trip to the Woodford Reserve distillery. (Will we make it to the chapel on time?)
• I’m hoping our schedule stays on course so we can hit the distillery. I’m also hoping it doesn’t end like this.

To take you on out to the weekend, enjoy a fun, sunny song from The Coral, called “In the Morning.”

Mark-Paul Gosselaar does Fallon interview as Zack Morris, commits to reunion

Headline + video says it all. I had forgotten about ‘time outs.’ And how about that sweet jam, “Friends Forever?”

It’s a Marathon, Not a Sprint

…although these days, it feels more like we’re sprinting marathons.

We spent the long holiday weekend in New York City (New York City!) hanging out with friends, one of whom is currently in the Broadway production of Accent on Youth, starring David Hyde Pierce  (best known as Niles from Fraiser).

After the show, we got to hang out backstage with the cast. DHP was nice enough to indulge the out-of-towners and came to our friend’s dressing room to say hello. I decided it would be really uncool to ask him (or the other castmates, who you’ve seen in Murphy Brown and Cocktail) for a photo, but here are a couple of us.

But here’s a fun fact: When DHP shook my hand, I noticed that he was wearing a wedding band on his left hand. A week or so later, he came out publicly and stated that he and his long-time partner had indeed gotten married.

We also took in a game at the new Yankees stadium. It was cool, but the weather was hot. And I fell asleep in my seat. (Isn’t that the mark of an old person?)

Before we left, we squeezed in a little urban hike and a fun BBQ on the roof.

Then, five days later, we were on an airplane to meet D’s new nephew, Charlie.

I got to hold him, too.

Full of ooey gooey baby love, we came back to DC where we began the intense search for an apartment. The apartment shopping process has been interesting so far, and we’re hoping that we’ll have a lease signed at a place in the next 24 hours.

The process has also demonstrated that I’m completely out of touch with real-world pricing. As I was trying to find the office contact information for my last apartment in Colorado, I noticed that we could rent a ginormous three bedroom, two bathroom penthouse in my old building for a mere $1650 with a $350 deposit. What a steal! My brain is DCified, fo sho.

More to come on the new digs, whenever I get final word. Keep your fingers crossed for us.

Sweet Summer Duet

If you like The National and St. Vincent, you’ll dig their sweet duet called, “Sleep all Summer.”

Take a listen. I’m biased of course, but don’t you love horns?

Trips, Travels & Holidays

Helllllo!

I have to say, there’s nothing like five days out of the office to make you want to take another five days (or more) away.

I had a great time with my dad, who was adventurous and took the train from Iowa to Chicago all the way out to Washington DC (a trip I don’t think he’ll replicate again). Coincidentally, I had a lot of activities lined up for the weekend that made us look like high-rollers instead of your average DC resident.

Thanks to a partner at D’s firm, we had Boeing’s box seats at Friday’s Washington Nationals game.

Saturday, Dad had a private photo tour of the city with a professional photographer (a Christmas gift from me). Judging on my dad’s high praise, I’d recommend doing something like this for the photog in your life. I got the package from Cloud9Living; they also specialize in other experience-based activities like race car driving, private DJ lessons, etc. (It isn’t very often that I divulge tips from my repertoire of gift ideas, so take heed!)

After Dad’s photo tour, D and I picked up where the tour left off and did a little urban hike around the memorials.

On Sunday, D left for Chile and Dad and I were left to our own devices. We spent the morning practicing photography at the National Cathedral, toured the Newseum, and then did something I said I wasn’t going to do again: crack crabs.

I did two; enough to show my dad how it’s done and cause the people behind us to ask where we were from. It seems that Maryland natives don’t hack and wretch while scooping out a crab’s guts before placing it in their mouths.

On Monday we toured the Capitol and waited in the gallery of the House of Representatives for an hour in hopes to see the debate on the climate bill. In the end, all we saw was some idiot from California go on the record (to an empty House) about how he hated President Obama’s speech at Notre Dame. Lame.

Dad’s trip wound down on Monday night with great seats to Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band. I can’t tell you how cool it was to see the Boss with my dad—whose Springsteen albums I discovered during adolescence and tried desperately to keep in my room. I’d also be lying if I wasn’t beating back tears when he slung his arm around me during the third song and said, “I can’t believe I’m here right now! This is so cool.”

photo via DCist

On Tuesday, Dad went home, and D’s family celebrated the arrival of a new baby. I’m eager to meet the little guy next month and to see Uncle D with his new nephew.

This weekend, D and I are trekking to New York to hang with friends—one of whom is making his Broadway debut! We had high hopes of taking the train up, but winced at the $400+ price tag.

Now we’re left with two options: (1) The public Bolt Bus, or (2) driving ourselves. Some of you might recall that we drove to New York last fall. A slimmer percentage of you might recall that I threw up the entire way home. In a Popeye’s cup. I honestly have no idea how D continued to date me. Simply vile.

Despite the negative association I now have with New York and my car, I’d rather throw up in the Jetta than a giant bus, so it looks like we’re driving. Besides, the bus doesn’t stop for ice cream.

How are you guys spending the long weekend?