life lately | march

March was the month that changed my life. For the rest of my life, I'll remember sitting in a crowded movie theater on March 14 and opening the email that said, "Congratulations," and it held my hand and opened my palm and placed into it my whole future, bright and open and so full of possibility. So much of these last few months has left me feeling stunned, feeling almost numb with unbelievability. Nothing that has happened is believable. It's funny, too, because it is believable. There is a part of me - that since the day I sat in the information session for Georgetown's international relations master program last fall and heard a fellow applicant mention she was applying for the Rangel Fellowship, and I played those unfamiliar words over in my head and on my tongue, that knew it was my destiny. Isn't that crazy? I can't believe I'm putting it in words. I daydreamed about that destiny until I laughed out loud alone in bed so many nights I can't count them because I've never been the sort of person to believe in destiny and fate like that. But it felt destined. It felt right through my core. I think now, now that it's becoming reality - now that I'm only 5 short, short, too short days from leaving my beloved job to embark on this crazy adventure that is this Fellowship and grad school in the fall - now that I know the rug isn't going to be pulled out from under me, and it's not all just one of those late night daydreams - I really see now that it wasn't destiny so much as a good fit. A perfect fit. I've dreamed of a life in the foreign service, I've planned it out, I've known for a while that it's in my blood. That kind of unsettled life is what makes me feel the most settled, the most content, the realest version of myself. This was the month of finding out the stuff I'm made of, and it rocked my world, it rippled through me in waves until I had to believe it - I did it. I'm here. My future is mine.

1&2: 2014: The Winter That Never Ended
3, 4, & 5: March was the month of Theo. My brother took him down to stay with my mom at the end of the month, until Zan and I can rent his condo and find a place of our own that allows dogs. And boy, did Theo and I live up every single last day together. We found a new favorite trail. I can't wait until we're reunited. My life is incomplete without him.
6: I moved! Matt and I said goodbye to living together. From a studio apartment where we shared a bed in LA to the slumlord in Bloomingdale all the way to the tree-lined streets of Cleveland Park, we were in it together until we met our matches. I found this note from my mom written on my old bible. I couldn't throw that old thing away because that note. And isn't her handwriting gorgeous?
7&8: Ellie came to visit! I talked a lot about her being there for me when I found out about Rangel. That's another friendship that's for the ages. We meandered around Georgetown after dress shopping for a girlfriend's wedding next fall and found ourselves planted on the giant green adirondack chair.
9: Zan and I celebrated our two year anniversary on Mach 24. Last year I made him a chocolate peanut butter cake; this year we booked a trip to Costa Rica. He's alright, y'all.

a day of virginia wine with ellie

Ellie came to visit about a month ago. On paper, she came so we could see the Veronica Mars movie together on opening night. As loyal marshmallows, seeing it together and on opening night was the only possible option (if that made zero sense, can I recommend an Easter weekend spent binge-watching the series on Amazon Prime?). Her visit was perfectly timed for other reasons, too. She was here the night that I found out I got the Rangel Fellowship. Let me tell you, that girl can scream. We were in the packed movie theater on Friday night, around 10:15pm, waiting for the movie to start, discussing whether to get a small or a large popcorn to share (priorities). Ellie went to grab the popcorn and a soda while I had the job of holding our seats (a very serious job, no doubt). I opened the email and saw the "congratulations" in the subject line, and my entire brain turned to mush. I jumped up out of my seat on autopilot, and like 20 rows below me, walking towards the exit, Ellie started waving her arms and motioning for me to sit back down (i mean, this theater was seriously packed, and we had prime seats we did not want to lose!). I couldn't form a real sentence to try to tell her what was going on. I just kept saying, like a broken record, "I gotta go!" And Ellie read right through me and she just knew. So she started jumping up and down, and screaming. No, really. Screaming at the top of her lungs "congratulations!" and "holy shit you got rangel!" and so we met in the middle and hugged and jumped up and down together. (Mid-hug, she got the attention of our seat neighbors... i mean the whole theater was watching us anyway, so it wasn't hard, and asked them to save our seats. she is a very good friend and just as good a multitasker!)

In addition to seeing the movie (amazing) and having one of my closest girlfriends there to celebrate with me, we also used the weekend as an excuse to do something we never did while we lived together in this fine city: get out of the town and out to some vineyards. It was Ellie's first time at Virginia wineries, and we picked some winners.

We started at Hiddencroft Vineyards, where the dessert wines surprised the heck out of me by being so similar to ice-wine that I had to ask if they somehow use similar techniques (it's not nearly cold enough in Virginia to do so, but our tasting guide said that many are, in fact, processed in a similar style as ice-wine!). In my opinion, the dessert wine is what they do best. That and the views. They're situated on a whole lot of land off a literally beaten path... we drove down a gravel and dirt road for miles and even called to make sure we were heading in the right direction. There's a small creek and a ramshackle old barn that begs for exploration and adventuring, which is exactly what Ellie and I did, wine glasses in hand.

Next, we ventured over to Doukenie, a popular northern Virginia winery that we were excited to finally try. The most impressive parts of the winery were the scenery (including a beautiful lake) and the man who did our tasting. He was hilarious - sardonic and dry and, ultimately, very friendly. The wines were lacking. He did everything he could to help us find some we enjoyed, even allowing us to taste some reserve wines. There was one red (a 2010 Merlot) that captured our attention. Overall, this winery is a "miss" for me. Skip it and head to...

North Gate Vineyard! Oh my. This is my kind of winery. It's small, green, and the emphasis is truly on producing quality wines. We enjoyed everything we tasted. The dry Rose and the Petit Verdot (2011) were the standouts. We stopped in at the end of the day, less than an hour before they were closing. The winemarker's birthday was that day, and the staff brought out a cake, and everyone still there (including us) sang and wished him a happy one. It has that feeling - of being welcomed, home, comfort, warmth. It was the clear winner of the day, and we'll be back.

And that is how Ellie and I do a weekend reunited. 

the staten island ferry | new york

The last time I saw the Statue of Liberty up close, I must have only been three years old. Maybe 4? I have an old photo of my mom with her hair wild and thick and curly in the wind, my brother standing next to her, and me - lifted up or standing on something, with the Statue of Liberty in the background. On the outside, we look like a happy tourist little family. I see that picture as an adult, and I can see the shades of conflict and emotion and nuance in it. I know now that at the time that picture was taken, my mom had recently taken my brother and me out of Florida illegally and moved us to Georgia, to keep us safe. I know that she had just cut ties with the majority of her family and friends so that no one would know our address or how to contact us, were they ever to be questioned, or worse, threatened. What I don't know, and can't remember, and for some odd reason, have never asked my mom, is why we were in New York. Funny enough. I remember the airplane ride. At least, I think I do. It was my first time on a plane. My brother and I sat next to each other, and our mom wasn't with us. I think she must have been in New York already, and we were meeting her there. If I was about 3 or 4, my brother was 7 or 8. The nice stewardess brought us headphones, and I felt excitement at the whole journey. I like to think I was adventurous, even then. I've seen the picture my whole life, but it wasn't until last weekend in New York that it dawned on me that it was taken on the Staten Island Ferry.

Pam, Ellie, Ellie's boyfriend Andy, and I hopped on the subway in Little Italy and made a mad dash to make the 4:30 Staten Island Ferry (they run every half hour). The ferry is free and draws hundreds upon hundreds upon maybe thousands of people seemingly on every trip across the waterway. The ferry not only provides transportation for workers and residents of Staten Island, it also affords the best (free) views of the Statue of Liberty. We fought our way up two flights of stairs to stand on the top deck. I wanted to sneak onto the roof, and we figured with three sets of boobs, it shouldn't be a problem, but ultimately, and probably for the best, we kept our tops on. 

I fought for a position right at the rail like a little kid would so I could ogle the view of the Manhattan skyline. When the Statue of Liberty came into view, Ellie and I held a pose for so long it became comical so Andy could get us and the Statue in the frame. When we finished taking photos, I turned to actually take in the view, and it stunned me. She was beautiful, our Lady of Liberty, with a clear blue sky above her and elegant ripples in the water beneath her feet. I was stunned, too, with the realization that this is where my family had been. I was standing right here when someone, a stranger probably, took that photo.

The Statue of Liberty grandly represents freedom the world over. But she's my own statue of freedom, too. My mom took us there, for whatever reason that I'm going to ask her next time we talk, and maybe she went for work or maybe in some way to be reminded that she, too, could be free and move on and build a new life for us? It struck me as monumental and beautiful and wondrous, that 24 years ago I was in the same place with the same view and now I can be there again because of the life she built for us. I'm being entirely too introspective and metaphorical and with the grand notions, but sometimes on a Friday, you just need to be full of gratitude. And big hair.

  if you go...

staten island ferry schedules 

operates 24/day

manhattan subway stops: j/z to broad street

1 to south ferry

4/5 to bowling green

tip: you can get off the ferry and immediately re-load on staten island (1 hour roundtrip)

a run through central park | new york

A few weeks ago I emailed my friend Ellie - one of my closest friends from college and former DC roommate - about visiting her in Brooklyn. Within a few hours, I'd picked out buses and started planning our weekend. What I didn't know is that Melanie and Pam - my two other closest girlfriends - were going to be in town the same weekend from Boston and Kansas City, respectively. The luck! I could hardly contain my excitement.

I rolled into town near Penn Station around 11:00pm on a drizzly, gray Thursday night. Ellie and I devoured slices at a local pizza joint and began the long trek back to Brooklyn.

Let me say that very time I visit New York, I spend the first 24 hours so enchanted by it that I start imagining my soon-to-be life there. When the clock strikes 36 hours, I remember how big it is. The city is ginormous, and it takes approximately forever to get anywhere. That's why bars stay open until 4am - it takes all night to get to a destination and the rest of the day to return home underground. NYC is grooming vampires, is my theory.

But back to the first 24 hours. We crashed around 1:00am, and for the first time in weeks I slept past 8:00am, and it was glorious! Forget the city that never sleeps, New York is the city of soundless sleep! Ellie and I hopped on the subway for a 45 minute trip to the Upper West Side, where I promptly fell head over heels in love with everything, but mostly with Central Park, luring me in for a run.

Since taking nearly a month off of running to recover from a stress reaction in my right tibia, I've been adhering to a vigorous training plan. I work out six days a week, but I only run on three of those and only on tracks and trails to protect that leg. Unfortunately, two weeks into training, the injury is back. I have another ortho appointment next week. I've been battling with myself over whether to keep training until then. I'd decided to stop, but when I knew I'd be near Central Park, I brought my running clothes anyway. 

I hemmed and hawed standing under shaded trees in the Park until I couldn't take it anymore. I'm not in New York very often, and it's Central Park - the world's most famous, beautiful urban park! I ran along a shaded path with rolling hills for about half a mile before cutting over to a track that runs around a reservoir. The track is soft - gravel and worn from the runners before me. I took it easy, stopping twice to snap photos of the incredible Manhattan skyline reflected in the water. The track is 1.58 miles around, bringing my total run to just over 2.5 miles back to where I started.

The weather was a breezy 70 degrees at 10am, my leg felt better than it had in weeks, and I had an entire weekend with friends I don't see often enough in front of me. I got lost in the views of skyscrapers and decided if I lived in New York, I'd run in Central Park every day. Or at least as often as I could commit to the commute.