friday photo | omedetou!

You see that goofy guy in the back left on the top photo? He's getting married next weekend. And a great number of the people in both these photos will be there. I'll be in Ecuador - I think en route to or in the Galapagos on the day of his wedding. And let me tell you, there's just about only one thing that could make me want to be anywhere else in the world while I'm laying my eyes on the Galapagos Islands for the first time, and that is Eric - or any of these friends - getting married. Okay, it doesn't even require a wedding. A reunion! A get-together! Any chance to see these friends, and I'd do just about anything to make it happen. But this time I'll settle for nervous, giddy excitement and anticipation for my girlfriends to send me pictures and live updates throughout the wedding. Omedetou (congratulations) to one of my very favorite people in the world and his about-to-be wife. She is one lovely, lucky woman, and I know him well enough to know that whomever he picked? He's a lucky guy, too.

the scenic route to old town alexandria | 2

Zander would wait for me a quarter mile ahead while I slowpoked my way, seeing the blaze of colors with my camera lens wide open. I caught up to him before we crossed the bridge, and he pointed and drew my attention to the west, where the sun, a fading spark of yellow, was hugged tight between a shifting canvas with shades of orange and pink and baby blue. Even with the occasional distance between us, cycling back from Old Town Alexandria to home was one of our most romantic dates yet.

the scenic route to old town alexandria | 1

I've been romanticizing Old Town Alexandria. There are all sorts of historical tours, Robert E. Lee's childhood home is there, and I envisioned it would be rustic, charming, and a veritable time machine to another era in the region's past. I was sorely disappointed when I realized it's a mirror image of Georgetown, complete with the same retail-therapy lined main streets and converted old buildings into restaurants and pubs (with a few vague ghost stories attached). Although it wasn't quite what I hoped for, I did still marvel at the stunning rowhouses and quaint tree-lined backstreets.

But the best part of Alexandria, by far, was the journey out there. Zan and I have been talking about cycling out there for a while. A few weekends ago, we pushed ourselves out of bed a little earlier than normal on a Saturday morning, grabbed some coffee (him) and tea (me) and started cycling. Round trip, it's about 26 miles, and every inch of it is beautiful. From Cleveland Park, we took trails in Rock Creek Park down to the edge of the mall by the Lincoln Memorial, After crossing over Arlington Bridge, we navigated onto the Mt. Vernon trail and rode that all the way into Alexandria. 

We saw the last remnants of glorious fall foliage, made a pit stop at Gravelly Point Park to watch planes take off from Washington-National airport, and crossed over a rickety wooden bridge that made me swoon. Wisps of cottontails greeted us. Drifting leaves lazily floated by us as we rode. A swampy area with reeds and woods and birds singing a final fall song called for me to pause to take it all in. 

And as hard of a time as I'm giving Alexandria, I loved spending time in the Spice and Tea Exchange, where I nearly bought them out of spices and teas. And we enjoyed hot apple cider from a local coffeeshop we found tucked away on a backstreet. We devoured lunch in a converted historic building, and we lit up walking down the sidewalks already ablaze with twinkling holiday lights and music. 

I used to be such a fast traveler - packing in as much as possible in the short time I had. These days, I savor slowness, reaching a new city on bike or foot, seeing every detail in high definition that's usually a blur by car.

friday photo | could-be christmas card edition

The mismatched furniture from when Matt and I said we wanted a global theme but went with what's cheap and free. Theo's crazy eyes because he hates being picked up but he sure loves being included. The vase of flowers in their sweet spot of a perfect bloom, a gift from Zander just because. The giant smiles brought on by hours of laughing until we cried playing Cards Against Humanity (and introducing my mom to Cards Against Humanity). Family.

Leave me your address because you might just see this photo again with a Merry or a Happy, uncropped, all perfect flaws included.

I'll be blogging less throughout the end of the year, as I attempt to cram a month's worth of freelance work, day job work, and finishing up my graduate school applications into the next week before Zan and I leave for Ecuador (a week!). I hope to pop in here and there to post a picture or share a story next week and/or while I'm in Ecuador, but in case life gets the better of me, I want to wish you all such a merry, happy, joyful holiday season that's absolutely filled with love and your hot beverage of choice.

thanksgiving

One thing that Zan's family and my family have in common: the men are the chefs. In Georgia, my cousin John fries the turkey for Thanksgiving every year. He injects a cajun seasoning into the old bird, and man oh man, it's crispy and juicy and has a kick to it, and I look forward to it all year. My brother makes the pies, a turducken, and last year a ham, too. In Zan's family, he and his brother can seriously cook. Zan grills better than anyone I've ever met, and Ben commands a kitchen. I've had little tastes here and there of Ben's cooking, but for Thanksgiving, I got the full treatment. He and Zan's sister-in-law hosted Thanksgiving at their newly purchased house in Petworth, and I couldn't stop swooning over Katie's eye for decorating and Ben's food.

My mom was up here this year, too, and she was so nervous about meeting Zan's family for the first time. I was nervous leading up to her visit, but the day of Thanksgiving, I wasn't at all. My mom has this gigantic personality and outrageous sense of humor. When she's at her best, she is a riot and at her worst, downright lovable. It's hard not to like my mom. Zan's family seemed to completely agree, and the mixing and mingling of families was a success.

I'm so grateful I got to bring my mom into the folds of my life, show her where I live, and introduce her to a family that feels like my second. It was a good one, this Thanksgiving.

a catholic & 2 baptists walk into the national cathedral

I asked my mom what she wanted to see and do while she was in DC, and she said, "I want to see you and spend time with you." I wrote up a rough itinerary for her visit anyway, to make sure we had time to see the White House and all the monuments on the National Mall, and eat at a favorite restaurant or two, meet friends, and I threw some shopping in, as well. But when Zan and I picked her up at midnight on Wednesday night before Thanksgiving, and we stayed up catching up until 4 in the morning, I scratched that to-do list and made a new one: laugh with her, listen to her, share with her, enjoy her, love her.

And so by the time she boarded her plane - just minutes ago - the only tourist site we'd really seen was the National Cathedral. But we'd crossed off our entire to-do list 10 times over.

if you go...

The National Cathedral

Donation of $10/person recommended

Tip: It's built on the highest point in DC

Take the elevator to the top floor for spectacular views over the city 

brown sugar & buttered popcorn cookies

One year for Christmas when I was still pretty young, my uncle put together a scavenger hunt for my mom. It seems like every year my family would unintentionally (or maybe intentionally?) pick a different person to really make feel special. No one ever had money so these special gifts amounted to a lot of planning and saving and oftentimes, good old layaway. My mom always played down Christmas - "Oh, there's nothing I need! Don't buy me anything. Don't spend your money on me." But I know secretly she loved to be made to feel special. Who doesn't? When my brother, playing "Santa," handed my mom a plain white envelope with no gift attached, we all sat a little straighter, curiosity playing across all of our faces. She opened it to find the first clue. We watched her run around the house, down into the basement, in the yard even picking up the clues. What's funny is that I don't even remember what my uncle got her that year. But I do remember the joy in our house and within our family on that Christmas Eve.

For me, Christmas is about those moments spent running around the house and yard on a scavenger hunt with a smile on your face as big as the lit and decorated tree in the living room. It's about the gifts that took you months to hunt down and brings tears to the receiver's eyes. They're the gifts that are homemade and designed just for that person. They're the ones like a whole box of socks because mine always end up with holes in them that still make me laugh when I pull them on 10 months later (undoubtedly, with holes in them). They're the ones that show you know who a person is and that you appreciate them and that the last year and one coming up is better because they're a part of it.

Since Zander and I will be out of the country for Christmas this year, I've been thinking about gifts and the holiday and what it all means to me a little earlier than normal. We still want to give gifts to our family and friends, and even though it'll be a more subdued celebration, I still want them to be thoughtful. Like maybe homemade cookies and baked goods, wrapped just so, with a bow and a note that says it all.

brown sugar & buttered popcorn cookies (aka- like popcorn, you can't just eat one of these!) from The Smitten Kitchen Cookbook

**i used kettle corn from an adult human-sized bag gifted to Matt and me so i skipped the first 4 ingredients and the first step.

2 tablespoons vegetable or canola oil
1/4 cup yellow corn kernels 1/4 teaspoon salt
1 tablespoon unsalted butter, melted
1/2 cup unsalted butter, softened to room temperature
1/2 cup light brown sugar, packed
1/3 cup granulated sugar (i used cane sugar)
1 large egg
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1 1/4 cup all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 cup semisweet chocolate chips (optional - i used them in half the dough)
coarse sea salt for sprinkling (optional - i found it unnecessary)

1. Make the popcorn: pour the oil in a medium-sized saucepan and heat over medium heat. When the oil is hot, add the corn kernels in a single layer. Cover the pot, but leave the lid slightly off to let some of the steam out. When the popcorn finishes popping (you'll hear it stop), turno ff the heat and remove from the burner. Drizzle with salt and the melted butter. Remove any unpopped kernels. Let cook. You'll have 4-4.5 cups of popcorn.
2. Make the dough: preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Grease a cookie sheet. In a large bowl, cream together the butter, brown sugar, granulated sugar, egg, and vanilla. You can do this by hand or in a stand mixer. In a separate, smaller bowl, whisk the flour and baking soda. Combine the dry ingredients into the wet ones, thoroughly mixing. Fold/mix in the popcorn. You'll have way more popcorn than dough, but it works! It's okay if the popcorn breaks up. If you're using chocolate chips, mix them in now, as well.
3. Bake the cookies: Drop heaping tablespoons of the cookie dough onto your cookie sheet. If you'd like, sprinkle sea salt on the unbaked cookies. Bake for 10-12 minutes - until you see the edges turning brown. Let the cookies rest on the cookie sheet for 5-10 minutes. These yielded about 30 cookies for me. 

a walk in rock creek park | travel tuesday

Oh, in DC there's the White House and the Capitol Building, the National Mall, the original Constitution document and John Hancock's signature at the National Archives, and there's Dupont Circle and the Georgetown Waterfront and all the free Smithsonian museums. There's so much to see in DC that most tourists and visitors and even people who have lived here for longer than I have don't think to peek behind the stately and stunning neighborhood rowhouses to see what's hidden. But back there behind the urban beauty is Rock Creek Park, the nation's largest and oldest urban national park, spanning for 2,000 acres, filled with trail runners and cyclists. It is a bastion and an escape from the city and, honest to god, the prettiest, most underrated place in the whole of the nation's capital.

Zander and I have kind of sort of started talking about where we might want to live when we start looking for a place early next year. Three years ago, my criteria were cheap, public transportation-accessible, and happening, probably in that order. Now, my criteria is simply this: put me in walking distance to Rock Creek Park. That's it. That's all Theo and I need to be happy. And a wine bar for Zan. (Okay, and for me, too).

Next time you're in DC, put Rock Creek Park at the top of your to-do list. 

Where's your favorite spot to travel in your own backyard?

history & hiking in manassas battlefield national park

I met my grandfather for the first time on Christmas Eve when I was 10 years old. He knocked on the door and stumbled awkwardly into our lives - my mom's, my brother, and mine, without an invitation. A woman younger than my mom was with him, and so you can imagine how my proud, independent mom felt about that. My mom held so much disdain for him that as hard as she tried to keep it away from my brother and me, we could see it on her face, but she still took him in.

He was a gruff man who smelled of Old Spice cologne. He had early stage dementia that turned into full-fledged Alzheimer's that eventually killed him. He rambled endlessly in the time he lived with us, telling us nonsensical stories of war and intrigue. After he died, my brother got curious about those old crazy stories filled with guns and danger and mischief and - did he mention a president's name? - and got to researching. My grandfather was an Italian man turned US war veteran. He moved his family from Indiana to Miami, and it was there that he became a mobster. Or at least the hired arm for one.

But long before I knew his secrets and before he died, my family made the difficult decision to put him in a home. We'd visit him every week and drive the same route every time, the minivan filled to the max with my brother, mom, and me, and my two cousins and their baby. And every trip, my mom would sail on through this one single stop sign, and the whole car load of us would yell, "STOP SIGN!" and my Mom would laugh uproariously and say, "That stop sign's not for me."

These days, seeing veterans' memorials and battlefields is one of the few times when my grandfather and his war stories comes to mind. So this weekend when Zan and I hiked around Manassas Battlefield National Park, I did think about him and his days as a veteran. I felt strange crunching over leaves covering a trail that was once coated in the blood of too many men during the battles of Bull Run, famously won by the Confederate Army during the Civil War. I stood on the site where "Stonewall" Jackson famously got his nickname, and I could've sworn there was a whiff of Old Spice in the air.

My mom never once got a ticket speeding through that stop sign. It really wasn't meant for her.

if you go...

Manassas Battlefield National Park

park in the visitor's center & take the 1-mile Henry Hill Loop

Difficulty: 1

History: 5 (Civil War)

Scenery: 4 (pastoral farmland and rolling hills in the distance)

life lately | 2

During the summer of 2010, every time I heard the song, "Edge of Glory" by Lady Gaga I went nuts. I danced - in my kitchen making dinner, in my bedroom in my underwear, in dance clubs with my eyes closed, in a bar even if everyone else was standing still. I loved that song so much that my friends still text me when they hear it. Life lately feels like that song - like I'm right in the jazz solo - my very favorite part - leading up to the climax, to those notes when Gaga lets loose and you can tell she's going a little nuts herself. I'm right there, right on the edge of the GRE, on the edge of my graduate school apps being completed, on the edge of a big trip to Ecuador, on the edge of everything I want and have been working so hard for. I'm on the edge, and for the first time, I can see the other side.

1. Nothing and nobody in the world is happier than this 3 year old pup of mine on a hike on a fall day. Except maybe me.
2.  Zan and I stopped by one of our very favorite wineries, Gadino Cellars, after a recent hike. I joined the wine club - I felt irresponsible for spending the money and like a adult with my stuff together all at once.
3. The last time I saw a drive-in movie I was about 4 years old, and my brother and I camped out on the hood of my mom's old Chevy S-10 pickup truck and watched Batman. It was a blast from the past and the most fun date night when Zan and I drove in to watch Good Will Hunting at the new Union Market in northeast DC. We ate gourmet popcorn from a food truck and I devoured a homemade apple ice cream cone.
4&5. After buying a bike, I wanted to test my limits and my thighs so Zander and I took the beautiful, scenic Capital Crescent Trail out to Bethesda for an arts and crafts fair. We rewarded ourselves with peach mimosas and apple pie punch at Brickside, one of our favorite restaurants in the area and biked really carefully back home.
6.  My favorite food? Homemade pizza. We do it right with extra garlic, sausage, and pepperoni. And mushrooms on Zan's half.
7. Sonia and I went to see If/Then, the new Broadway musical previewing in DC in November and December, starring the one and only Idina Menzel. The second she opened her mouth and let that first note fly, goosebumps covered my body, and I could hardly breathe. She's just spectacular. Walking to the National Theater, I passed the White House and stopped to take it in.