December Hiking at Strickler Knob

Before Christmas, Joe organized a little hiking expedition to the Shenandoah, near Luray Caverns.

We hiked a nine-mile roundtrip trail to Strickler Knob, which boasted some pretty amazing views.  I didn't capture any here, because I was too scared to get to close to the edge.  I don't like heights at all.

It was a beautiful trail, with a couple river crossings.  I did OK, except that I have a knack for managing to trip when the ground is perfectly level.  It must be exciting to walk behind me on the trail, as I'm turning my ankle and recovering every 10 minutes.

The last mile was all uphill, just an absolute slog.  I really thought I wouldn't be able to do it.  I started feeling faint and then I tried to breathe and I could only take short little breaths.  That's the closest I've ever been to a panic attack.  I can see why people check themselves into the ER for panic attacks. I eventually made it back to the car, after much struggle.  We said we earned our hamburger dinners at Burger Brothers after that.

Joe surveys the scene.

Here's the rock scramble at the end of the trail.

Alex M., Channing and Alex C. climbed up on that perch.  They are crazy!  I was so worried they would fall.

Look at pro-rock climber Alex M. jumping between those rocks.  Don't try this at home, kids.

Happy Dec 1!

Did you have advent calendars growing up?  I got one every year, and I hope I'll have one every year for all my years. 

Every day, I looked forward to opening the little door to discover a reindeer or stocking-shaped piece of chocolate that tasted vaguely of cardboard, but no matter.  This really gets you in the holiday spirit for the whole month.

My mom called me a few days ago, right before my parents' big vacation to Hawaii.  "Oh, I meant to tell you," she said.  "I bought advent calendars for you guys, but then I forgot to give them to you and since I won't see you for awhile, I gave them to the neighborhood kids."

Well, shoot.  I love stories where people tell me about the gifts they got me and then subsequently gave away.  I guess the kids in the neighborhood were happy, but this 27-year-old needs an advent calendar, dangit!

I had to buy my own at CVS yesterday.  Right in the nick of time!

Thankgiving 2011: Spatchcock Edition

First things first: someone bought my rug on eBay!  It's headed to Brooklyn, which is good.  People in Brooklyn will understand the cookie monster rug.

Now that that's out of the way, how was your Thanksgiving? 

My chef extraordinaire brother Dan spatchcocked our turkey.  That involves removing the spine so the turkey lays flat and cooks more evenly.  Norman Rockwell, it ain't.  But it turned out perfectly. 

All week, my mom talked about cooking for 8 people, since my French nana, my boyfriend Joe and my roommate Christine were all nice enough to join us for dinner.  Eight people, sure.  Mom set the table and we all sat down and Dad said the prayer.  Then Nana looked across the table and said, "Who is that chair for?"  Sure enough, we miscounted and there was an empty tablesetting for no one, right in the middle of the table.  I'll pretend it's for the memory of dear, departed Hunter.

Everything was beyond delicious. But good gravy, why did I eat so much?  It's a horrible feeling after you've cleaned your plate and polished off the last piece of turkey.  I always forget that feeling.  You can barely move, and yet a pie and a cheesecake await.  Of course you will eat them.  As an American, it's your civic duty.

There's everyday, normal "full, couldn't eat another thing," then there is "Thanksgiving full."  It's off the charts.   At least this only happens once a year.

I didn't shop on Friday.  Not my scene.  When shoppers are pepper-spraying one another to get an advantage on buying Xboxes, something is severely out of whack.  What did I do?  Took advantage of a freak 60 degree day and played tennis outside with Joe, which is free.

Check out the photos from our trip to Annapolis with Tiffany and Jon on Saturday.  Even the boats are decked out for the holidays.

But wait, what's that?

There's a cat as first mate!

Halloween in Fairfax

I happened to be at my parents' house on Halloween night, and was given the task of passing out candy to the little trick or treaters.  My mom bought six bags of candy, and I thought that was way too much.  But sure enough, at 6:30 p.m. there was a knock at the door, and before I knew it, the candy was almost gone. The kids who stopped by were pretty darn cute, but they made me feel out of touch in terms of 2011 cartoon knowledge.  I asked a little girl with blue Pippy Longstockings braids who she was supposed to be, and she held up a tiny doll dressed like her.  "I'm a Loully," she said.  Duh.  Well, okay. I left the bowl of Halloween candy out next to the door, and the next day my mom called to tell me that Rain the dog had eaten all the candy when no one was looking, wrappers and all.  Luckily, I had handed out most of it.  I'd also eaten a good chunk of the candy, including all the dark chocolate, which is dangerous for dogs.  So poor Rain had no adverse effects from her little Halloween adventure. "Some might say that I'm a hero for eating the candy so the dog didn't end up eating it," I told Joe. "You know, if you had put the bowl away in the first place, the dog wouldn't have gotten into it at all," he said. Hmm, yes.  We aren't used to misbehaving dogs.  I suppose this is a good a time as any to note that our beloved dog Hunter has passed on to the rainbow bridge - Halloween would've been his 16th birthday.  That is really old for a dog, I know, but I had begun to believe he would never die.  He'd just always been there, for the majority of my life.  I've been meaning to write a little tribute to him, but let's just say he was practically perfect, much-loved and had the best life a dog could ever have.  He would never have eaten the candy.  Now that Hunter is gone, Rain has no role models in her life and is clearly acting out.

Where Is My Mind?

I have always hated getting up in the morning, but high school was especially difficult for me.  Our school started at 7:20 a.m., and that start time combined with me being a lazy teenager and the fact that I hated school already made for a difficult four years.   I didn't use an alarm clock.  Instead, I was awakened every morning by the sound of my mom screeching at the top of her lungs, "Adele!  Get up! Time to get up!  You have to get up!"  Every single morning.  Flash forward to the present - I have to get up at around the same time for work and I still don't like waking up.  I've gotten into the terrible habit of sleeping in and only leaving myself 20 minutes to get up and get out the door.  Some things have to fall by the wayside with just 20 minutes.  Like makeup.  Using a hairdryer.  Packing a lunch.  Maybe toothbrushing? So it's accurate to say that my mornings are rushed.  Yesterday after dinner, I was putting away a bag of chips in the cupboard where I keep my cereal.  I opened the door, and sitting on the bottom shelf was a gallon of milk. That is so not the refrigerator.  It was a brand new gallon of fancy organic milk too.  The humanity!

Vroom Vroom

When I moved to Washington in 2008, I gave my Honda Civic to my dad.  His car had just died and I didn't really need a car in the city.  Sometimes I borrow it, which is really nice of him.  It's the cheap, co-dependent, low-tech version of Zipcar. Recently, my dad talked about maybe trading in the Civic and getting a sports car.  This was very unlike him.  A born saver, one of his favorite pastimes is to shop in the "cheap meat" section of the supermarket.  "What a bargain," he always says about half-price, near-expiry-date deli meat. But hey, he works so hard, he deserves a sports car if he wants one. "What kind of sports car are you going to get?" I asked him. "Well, I was thinking about a Honda Accord," he said. That's more like it.