New Orleans, aka My Happy Place

You know those getaways so full of love and fun that you realize even inside the moment that you're actively creating a memory that'll make you smile forever? That was our New Orleans anniversary weekend. And of course, I forgot my camera, so all I have are Instagram snippets from my phone. Somehow, though, I think the joy comes through anyway.

We flew through happy, bright blue skies.

We stayed at the Roosevelt, which was still shuttered from Katrina during our last visit. The restoration of the hotel and the building's history are both remarkable. (Pretend you're looking at pictures of gorgeous chandeliers here instead of just a napkin.)

The Roosevelt is also home to the Sazerac Bar, which makes, among other delights, a perfect sazerac. (Naturally.)

And bonus: fancy bath products!

We spent Thursday afternoon eating muffalettas at Central Grocery - YUM. We also meandered the French Quarter - I have a soft spot for the galleries along Rue Royal and all the street musicians.



Later that night we crossed town for an anniversary dinner at Gautreau's. I can't say enough about our meal... just spectacular, start to finish. Imagine decadent soup and salad, weep-worthy fish. Imagine a restaurant without even a sign out front, in a converted house, on a residential street. Imagine being the last diners there and having our meal in a completely empty, gorgeous dining room... just us, candlight, and music. Heaven. I also wore one of my favorite dresses, but this is the only image I have of it (awesome Roosevelt tile alert):

I haven't mentioned yet that we had a wedding to attend later in the weekend, so after dinner we met up with the bride-and-groom-to-be at a great dive bar on Magazine Street. Friday we hung out at the pool sipping drinks, reading books, eating catfish sandwiches, and being otherwise decadent. Such a life! That evening we had dinner plans at Cochon. Here I am on our walk from pre-dinner shrimp and cocktails at Luke and on our way to dinner:

This is actually the dress I wore to our rehearsal dinner three years ago - fitting since later that night we joined H&M's rehearsal party. But Cochon... oh my. Porky goodness and the best roasted oysters I've ever had and this fried alligator, which tastes a lot like Nobu's rock shrimp dish, if you've had that before. I adored this restaurant, which is entirely unsurprising.

Later that night in the French Quarter, we were toasting soon-to-be-newlyweds and toasting each other, too. So much fun.

On Saturday we decided that T should wear a bowtie to the wedding (When In New Orleans, right?), so we walked and shopped and walked and ate and drank and walked and relaxed.



And here's my favorite guy wearing not only the bowtie we acquired that day, but also his wedding day seersucker! He hadn't worn it since our wedding - and for those that don't remember, this suit was originally his grandfather's. I loved that tradition then and I still love it now. (I also love that he didn't shave for this wedding... I'm a sucker for scruff.)

Here's me and more of that great Roosevelt tile. These are some of my favorite shoes, by the way - seersucker Louboutins gifted by that handsome guy above a few years ago. He's pretty great.

H&M's wedding was at the Audubon Zoo... it was so much fun seeing the animals at the wedding and late into the night. Here were some of our favorite wedding participants (apologies to the gators for the fried item previously included in this post).

Oh hi. We match.



No seriously.

I love that T loves pattern as much as I do. That's his wedding pocket square, too!



This picture sums it up. Happy, happy, happy.



Oh, and... on Saturday afternoon a Cajun-accented psychic told me I need to be nicer to myself. T's been gloating ever since, because he always says the same thing. So here's a laaaaaate-night picture of me drinking a hot toddy due to my lack of a voice (I woke up Sunday with a lousy cold I'm still fighting). You see that squishy area that's not quite arm and not-quite side boob? That area is my nemesis. I hate it. But because I'm being nicer to myself these days, I'm posting this picture anyway. SEE, Cajun psychic and "Baby Spirit" that I've been instructed to talk to, SEE? I'm being nice.

Until next time, Nola.

This night, long ago

So it's late right now. Late enough that I should either be asleep or smiling. But instead I'm deeply involved in a PowerPoint. This is how too many of my nights have been recently.

Here's the flashback that just hit me:

Me, in the Planning building computer lab. Grad school. A cool 3 a.m., probably. A crumpled-up wrapper from a Frontier breakfast burrito beside me, definitely. Headphones on. Indigo Girls: blasting. Who listens to the Indigo Girls loudly, you're asking? This girl does, when driving alone and fast or when up way past her bedtime on deadline. So there's me, the work, the burrito wrapper, and the Girls. But a couple of computers down, there's also my girl Mikaela, my ultimate all-nighter-in-the-computer-lab partner in crime. I need a break. Headphones come off. We take a few minutes to do that thing we do, which is discuss relationships or politics or gossip or who the hell cares because we know each other so well and we really don't need much besides the smallest distraction from the sentence that is slowly becoming the run-on from hell (like this one). We stretch our legs, go out into the courtyard. We feel the cool night air on our faces. Mikaela is probably smoking (I'll never tell your daughter, M, promise). We make each other laugh. We bounce ideas for each other's work around. Then we go back in, and we hunker down. We finish. Of course we do. We're good at this. We nailed those nights.

I miss that kind of flow. I'm getting glimpses again these days of how sure I was that I'd only do this profession until I was bored with it, then I'd have my creative career. I was sure I'd be writing by now.

But instead I'm PowerPointing. And not in the cool way, either, with Mikaela beside me.

And that's okay. This is okay. I believe in these bullets.

But tomorrow I'll send them out for dozens of people to review, and we will tinker and talk it to death and finally we will present it to the community, and it'll be fine. I'll still believe in those bullets.

But I don't believe in this process as much as that process, the one with just my brain, a friend, a burrito, and a blank screen.

Time to cue the Indigo Girls. Time to send my old friend a hug across the Internet.

Also: time to plan my annual return to New Mexico, where I'm certain everyone else is still having those resplendent 3 a.m. strikes of inspiration without me.

Pictures, not words

Lately I'm enjoying Instagram so much more than Twitter. I think it's because my head hurts from being overworked, and all the words of Twitter flying by at a rapid pace only ramp up my crowded brain. Looking at pictures, though, makes my head feel clearer, calmer. And so while I've been a terrible blogger, my phone is bursting with images that hint at just what I've been up to the last couple of weeks.

Not pictured: working. Working working working.

But fun things I've been doing, and photographing, include admiring the colors of my neighborhood.

 Being blessed with gorgeous wedding invitations.

Turning a head of cauliflower into a dessert-like substance.

Eating lots of oysters (which happen to go really well with martinis).

Replacing a toilet (surprisingly easy, it turns out).

 And working... again.

But then, finally, it was time to jet off to Austin. Oh how I needed this trip.

I spent the first day with my dear Kate, introducing new Bebe L to the wonders of Austin patio lounging.

T arrived and by the miracle of all miracles, we did not call into work. We did a lot of this instead.

We ate ourselves silly at Salt Lick for the rehearsal dinner. We also spent a lot of time looking up at the sky, marveling at all the stars. It's sad how long it had been since I'd done nothing but look up at the sky. Feeling small under all those stars is an amazing feeling.

The next day, it was time for the wedding. And oh, this wedding. One of T's best friends from Dallas married a woman who is his match in every way. It was stunning, and so full of joy.

We arrived back in DC late Sunday night, and the first thing I saw was the bounty of pink blossoms, bright even against the night sky. Our cherry blossoms had opened over the weekend. The next morning I took the same shot, in awe of these pretties right outside the door. 

Spring has sprung. And now I'll be taking pictures of flowers every day to document it.

Friday I'm in Love

I'm so ready to sleep in and relax with friends this weekend... how about you? Here are three little gems from my week.

Hank for Senate

Meet Hank, a cat running for Senate in Virginia. Do you notice that he looks shockingly like our cat Switters? Poor Switters is pretty pissed. He was convinced he had the right mix of dashing good looks and humble roots that would help launch him into office, and then Hank went and stole his thunder, before DC even had its own Senate seat. Switters is licking his wounds in the windowsill right now. It isn't pretty.

The Women of 'Community'

I'm giddy that 'Community' is coming back to NBC mid-month. The 'Community' fan base is a rabid one, and we are proud. This Daily Beast interview with the women of 'Community' shows exactly why our show is better than your show. I raise my glass to women written as whole characters, to blowing apart stereotypes, and to the magic that can happen when women write for other women. Well done, team... well done.

Hometown Kitchen

This is me, glowing with hometown pride, pointing you to a fantastic article written about the family of one of my favorite high school pals. The reporter joins Saleem's family for dinner, where the Rs have been churning out innovative fusion cooking since way before it was cool. Read about family rice wars and get hungry, then go dive into Saleem's creative work, which consistently makes me feel close to him even though our days of daily conversation and high school hijinks are no more. Big props to Saleem for being vanity-aged in this piece, by the way - is it really that easy to shave a couple of years off that number? Note to self.

Have a happy weekend, everyone!

Girl power

I might as well be carrying around one of these this week. It's a girl power kind of time for me.

Last weekend was one of my favorite weekends of the year: folk art and prom dresses. How in the world do these two things combine, you're asking?

First up: the annual Folk Art Show at Fearrington Village. I love this show. I love the art and the energy, how down-home it feels, while still being (for me, on a budget!) absolutely aspirational. I had a blast at the Collectors' Preview with my mom and my sister.

Another reason I love the Fearrington Folk Art Show is watching my mom work the room - painting, pottery, textiles, she does it all. She's been collecting Danny Doughty's work for years, and picked up these gorgeous geese this year to add to her collection.

On Saturday, my favorite girl gang - my three cousins! - arrived to shop for their prom dresses. Two prom attendees, with older college student sis acting as shopping consultant, plus me, my mom, and sis = too much fun for one 12-hour shopping day! We were successful, by the way - both girls ended up in amazing dresses that suited them perfectly - and were perfectly different. I've said it before and I'll say it again: my cousins give me hope for the universe. I love these girls like mad.

As if this wasn't enough, I had a very special lunch date on Sunday with my oldest pal in the world, Allie, and her brand new baby girl! Baby L was born in December and I can't wait to watch her grow up to be as amazing as her mom is.

Just two days later, my dear friend Kate had her baby girl, too. I get to meet this new Baby L in Austin next month, and I'm counting down the days to see those cheeks in person!

Okay, okay, I still like boys... but for a few more days, I'm just going to soak in all this girly goodness. Can you blame me?

Three bright spots

Since posting that amazing champagne office cooler earlier this week, I've been working from my company's suburban office. And wouldn't you know it, there's not a champagne delivery system to be found! Oh well. Despite the week being a general blur of work and budgets and spreadsheets oh my, I did have three fun bright spots:

1. Lunch with two of my high school favorites. I adore the hometown (even though none of us live in our hometown anymore) crew.

2. Downton Abbey. I originally assumed this show wasn't for me, as I have little patience for Victorian comedies of manners and Jane Austen, and figured this show was a sendup of the same. HOWEVER, this show is none of those things. First, it's set in a fascinating period, a more modern one than I first realized (Season One ends with the announcement that England has entered World War I). Politics is fascinating at this time, particularly in regard to gender and class. Society is changing entirely, and we can see all of it through the lens of one estate. Second, the cast. THE CAST. Oh, Maggie Smith. Oh, these characters! Third, the show is written by Julian Fellowes, he of the brilliant 'Gosford Park.' Had I realized this last year I would've been on this show something fierce. But instead, I Netflix'd all of Season 1 Wednesday night in a glorious marathon session, which was insanely rewarding, so much so that it felt gluttonous.



And of course, I'm totally on board with Season 2. I watched the first episode last night.



I found this description of the show randomly, and thought it was perfect:

If Stefon, the in-the-know city correspondent for “Saturday Night Live’s” Weekend Update, were to describe it, the breathless missive might go something like this: “The hottest show on TV right now is “Downton Abbey.” This British import, found on your local PBS station, has everything: housemaids, stable boys, lords and ladies, secret passageways, conspiratorial whispering, scandalous affairs, scheming servants, stolen kisses, garden parties and snuff boxes. It’s packed to the hilt with formal dinners and fox hunts, carriage rides and clandestine glances. You’ll be struck by the grandeur of how the upper crust lives, and marvel at how the lower ranks make it all possible. New this year: A world war holds the household’s rapt attention, but not rapt enough to forget about sibling squabbles and manservant maneuverings. Don’t miss taking a look at this world, where valet is pronounced “valette” and a ringing telephone is a “devilish thing to behold.”

Who else is on the Downton Abbey train?

3. Emmylou. This song was brought to my attention by this longtime fave, but originally showcased by this new fave. I can't get it out of my head. Bonus: these Swedish phenoms are playing DC in a couple of months!




Happy Friday, folks - here's to a calmer week ahead with more time to write and relax!

"Why are you so far away?" (she said)

I'm reading South of Broad right now, and loving it despite its initial chapters of overwrought, floral prose. I wasn't sure I'd be able to get past the insufferably long, overwritten sentences at the beginning of this book, although they did serve as excellent fodder to entertain T with dramatic readings. (Note to all writers: if a reader has to stop and gasp for air while trying to read one of your sentences aloud, it's probably too long.) Fortunately, Pat Conroy settled down the rhetoric once he introduced additional characters and stopped simply expounding All Things Charleston, and now I'm hooked.

I was thinking last night about the tight group of friends who comprise the heart of the novel, and how so many of my favorite books, movies, and even television shows involve a central group of friends who grew up together over the years. I'm absolutely guilty of romanticizing that sort of camaraderie. We romanticize what we don't have, after all, and my life couldn't be more different than the hometown experience. I'm lucky enough to have friends all over the place, from all sorts of chapters in my life, and many of these friends are as different as could be. I love that about them. If I hadn't gone north for college, I would never have met my fantastic Boston Girls. If I hadn't gone west for graduate school, I would never have met my amazing ABQ crew (or my husband, for that matter). If I hadn't followed T out to Dallas, I would never have met the Champagne Thursday girls. And now that we're in DC, we love the new friends we've made and the new life we're creating. We are constantly evolving.

Despite the knowledge that I wouldn't trade any of what I have for staying in the same town with the same people forever, I still adore wondering what that would feel like. I'll never have kids who'll go to high school with the kids of my high school crew. Most of my high school crew left town like I did anyway. I won't see my college friends at weekend football games or alumni events. Most of us live too far away, and besides, we don't even have a football team anymore. I'm not able to walk over to my graduate school pals' house anymore for breakfast, hashing out the previous night and planning how we'll take over the world tomorrow (oh, how I could use those breakfasts these days!). Heck, my pals don't even live together any more... marriage and babies and all. Time marches on and moves us farther apart geographically. We all visit and stay in touch regularly, but still.

I understand the logic of distance, but my heart can't help but pine for one endless "Big Chill"-style reunion, minus the suicide (although the drama of one person's husband impregnating someone else in the group with his wife's permission would be... exciting?). And while my choices mean I do and always will fly around a lot to see my favorite people and their offspring, how much would I love for them to all be here with me, living in my neighborhood?

Here's a song for today from my friend Ann, who is part of my "Nightswimming" memory, and in comments notes that she feels the same way I do about that song and about that long-ago weekend. Ann left the Triangle like I did and now calls Nashville home. She sent me this clip over the weekend, which immediately  prompted me to tell T to develop some Nashville clients so it'd be easier to get out there regularly. That's exactly how my world keeps getting bigger, by the way. Is it crazy that I sometimes wish it was small?

Thanks, Ann, for knowing this song would make me as happy today as it would have in 1996, sitting in your living room drinking boxed wine. I raise a glass of Franzia White Zin in your honor, and send you a long-lost hug across the airwaves.

Hunkering down (and not minding it)

I'm high on DayQuil right now, which is helping soothe the pain of a too-brief visit from my Dallas pal Kate. I adore her with everything I have, so it was wonderful having her here. We were supposed to see other during my Dallas trip, but then her house flooded, which would have been a friendship tragedy (in addition to the WTF-style home tragedy it already was) if not for this trip on our agenda. It was so fun to see Kate with a little quesito growing in her belly, and this time I could congratulate her properly, since when she told me the happy news she also happened to be wearing a bathing suit and rain boots and standing knee-deep in water in her living room. There were more pressing matters at hand than the contents of her uterus that day. This time, though, plenty of happy vibes and uterus talk! I'm also happy to report that Kate did a full inspection of our house's toilet supply lines and there is not a faulty plastic nut to be found.

Kate brought an amazing housewarming gift with her, which had me thinking about other lovely gifts I've received lately, and basically feeling pretty lucky even though I'm home alone during hurricane weekend and can't breathe properly.

From Kate, a gorgeous cheeseboard (or cutting board if you're some sort of anti-cheese freak) that she found in Italy. (Displayed with a table runner it turns out we both own)

From The Culinary Couple (I told you they were adorable), this goodie bag filled with foodie treats from Pennsylania.

And from our eccentric but well-meaning neighbor, who strings purple lights in the trees for "good energy," affixes glass marbles to anything that'll hold glue, and basically maintains a crazy person's front yard, a handful of bulbs that turned into these gorgeous plants, just by me ignoring them.

Not bad at all! T is attending my brother's bachelor party this weekend, so I'm going to focus on getting rid of this yucky cold and getting lots of R&R while he's gone. I do have a secret breathe-again weapon sitting on my kitchen counter, though:

The plan is to roast these babies on the grill before Irene gets here, then spend all weekend curled up with a book and eating green chile stew. I'm as pumped as this medication will allow.

Stay dry and safe, everyone!

Whirlwind, complete

The whirlwind is over! First Dallas, as you know. There's only one photo. I'm not really sure why I'm orange here (surely there's a John Boehner joke in there somewhere), but it still makes me happy. As does dinner at Fearing's and drinks at the Ritz with two of my favorites.

Not pictured from Dallas: a reallllly fun dinner with old friends of T's and their fabulous partners, where we went to Tre Wilcox's new restaurant and he literally scowled at everyone the entire time, luxurious spa and gym sessions, and the taking of much Advil every morning.

And then, New Mexico. Such goodness in that place. I didn't take nearly enough pictures of my friends during a fantastic dinner party where we reminisced and laughed and hatched all sort of plans, but I do have scenery. And an adorable child. And wine. And oh goodness, do I have burritos.

Whirlwind July, you rocked. Even though T and I had only four days in thirty-one where we were together and alone in our house without guests, I wouldn't trade you for the world.