October by the numbers.

Since its November, I am breaking out my Christmas playlist. Sorry I'm not sorry. Christmas is my favorite holiday and season, regardless of the subarctic temperatures. This mix is improving Monday one Frank Sinatra song at a time.
Some numeric information regarding October:

2 The number of weeks of the real world complete
15 The number of Laffy Taffys eaten over Halloween weekend
3.5 The number of cups of coffee I have consumed per day (average)
12 The number of times I heard the Alanis Morrissette song "Torn" on the radio last week
7 The number of newly acquired bruises this month (causes unknown)
4 The number of Ravens games watched (3 of which were won)
1 The number of weekends spent in Charlottesville
1.5 The number of times I have lost my car in the parking garage
6 The number of times I have listened to the new Taylor Swift CD in its entirety
2 The number of awesome bulldogs I have seen in Arlington
$40.85 The amount of money in my checking account
5 The number of times I have pressed the wrong floor in my apartment building's elevator
3 The number of times that has resulted in an awkward interaction
4 The number of bags of cough drops I have gone through
6 The number of times I have been to the Clarendon Whole Foods
6.5 The average number of miles run per day
3.5 The number of times I have paid a toll in pennies

Arabesque.

I am feeling a bit more than under the weather today. It typically takes a l ot to sideline me; I am certainly one of those people whose approach to illness is to simply pretend like I am not sick and go from there. Anyone have any good remedies for a particularly nasty cough and cold? My head feels like an anvil is resting on top of it at all times. Training started an hour later today so I was able to sleep infinity hours last night, but so far it hasn't helped. Fingers crossed I'll be able to go to a friend's Halloween birthday party tonight. Do gin buckets help sinus problems? In other news, I found The Ballerina Project on tumblr yesterday and was completely fascinated by the photographs. I love the lines against the architecture of the city; I think urban planning and design is unbelievable (architecture nerd alert) and provides a such a distinct backdrop for each image. I was an unsuccessful ballet student as a little girl (I know you're all shocked), and found that I much preferred gymnastics. Anyway, I have always been impressed by ballerinas; I think they are beautiful. Here are some of my favorites:

Open letters.

One of my new favorite websites for hysterical laughter at any time is McSweeney's.

They have an "Open Letters" section of their website, which allows people to write letters to people or entities that would never actually respond. Seeing as I make mental open letters two to three times a day, I am taking this opportunity to write a formal complaint.

An Open Letter to Everyone Driving on I-66 Between the Hours of 5 and 7pm, More Specifically, the Guy Driving the Subaru "Baja" Directly in Front of Me,

I know its rush hour. I know you really, really want to get home. Me too. I left my office building about an hour ago. It took me 30 minutes, a diet coke, and 3 oreos just to get onto this God forsaken road from said office building. As much as I am usually a very positive person, this road brings out the worst in everyone. Why anyone in traffic engineering thought that a major commuter thoroughfare could spontaneously go from 2 lanes to 4 with no impact on the movement of traffic is completely beyond me. 4 - 2 = 2. 2 < 4. Simple math.

On the subject of lane loss, I blame construction. While I really appreciate the building of the metro out to Northern Virginia, which will someday, in the extremely distant future, allow me to avoid all of this mess, you have ALL NIGHT to construct. Yet, you choose to construct when everyone under the sun wants one thing: to reach their apartment building in Arlington, remove their tights in favor of an oversized nightgown, make hot cocoa and watch NCIS re-runs (Okay, so maybe that's just what I want). I propose to remove the speed limit signs on I-66 between the hours of 4 and 7pm. Let's be honest, no one will ever actually reach 55 miles per hour at this time, so this is really just cruel. If you do, somehow reach a pace above "glacial," don't hold your breath, because within minutes you'll have to slow down to pay someone 75 cents at a toll (which I paid in the form of pennies yesterday).

That being said, we are really all in this together (not to get all High School Musical on you). You, man in front of me, can make this easier on everyone. You know where you're going; you drive this road every day to and from work. You know your EZPass only works in the left lane at the approaching toll plaza. You know you have to exit onto 495 if you're still in the right lane after the toll plaza (which you don't want to do because your car will instantly implode at the sight of the backed up on-ramp).  You know the right lane actually closes in 1 mile. With that, I ask you sir, WHY ARE YOU IN THE RIGHT LANE? I would yell this to you, but I don't think you would hear it over your Metallica. Clearly, your Subaru isn't your only problem.

Thankful for my car's 6-disc CD player,
Caryn

This guy.

Upon entering the elevator yesterday after work, I stumbled upon someone closely resembling this in the elevator:

His name is Chauncey, and he lives on the fifth floor. Can I have it?



"You can't have that, you're a grown up."

Apologies for the posting hiatus! In the midst of signing an apartment lease, trying to find clothes that are work-friendly but not completely lacking in style, and taking some trips here and there, I have been a little more than neglectful. Either way, I'm hoping to post daily now - so thanks for those of you that are still with me! For those of you that know me (Casey I think you can sympathize with me on this one), you know I'm not exactly a kid person. Babies, and even toddlers, are totally my jam. Once you reach the age of 3, all bets are off. So when my neighbor called and asked if I'd Nanny for her 3 kids (Ages 3, 5 and 7) for a while until school got under way, I was more than hesitant. Most of you know I'm naturally clumsy, so throw three children in the mix and you have a serious recipe for disaster. Regardless, I've been hanging out with Danny, James and Callie for a while now, and I will say they're not as scary as I thought. Despite the fact that they throw punches (along with juice, toys, and sand), they're pretty cool kids. Though I still consider myself a kid (I'm writing this wearing red Keds), I've learned a lot about the under-10 crowd:

1. Peanut butter and marshmallow is the only acceptable sandwich.

2. Thomas the Tank Engine is still cool.

3. So are Eloise and Madeline (Thank God).

4. Older siblings are indisputably awesome, no matter how many times they steal your bike.

5. Nickelodeon is NOT cool. Disney Channel is the only television station worth watching because it features the Jonas Brothers, Miley Cyrus, and Selena Gomez.

6. Older siblings are masters of reverse psychology.
7. Despite the aforementioned throwing of virtually everything, it is commonplace for two-year-olds to have a set of golf clubs.
8. If you are a 7-year-old girl, you are a diva.
9. Even without blood loss, a bandage always necessary.
10. I am considered a grown up.


Number 10 really troubles me, but I guess I have to go with it. As of next Wednesday, they will all be back in school and I will be getting ready to head to Atlanta to see Sarah! In other news, I cannot wait to go to the beach this weekend. Here's to hoping whatever hurricane that is allegedly approaching does me a favor and hangs out as far away from the shore as possible.

For tha ladies.

This is from Esquire's Women's issue, absolutely worth the read.

Women. You're hard to get to know.

You're not a mystery, exactly. Nor enigmatic. It's just that your hard drive is internal. You have no flashing lights. You look better in pants than you think. You like some of the songs that we like. You like some other songs that we pretend not to like. You don't even pretend to like Springsteen. (What's the matter with you?) If you follow a sport, its probably football. If you have a sin, its probably salt, not chocolate.

Daffodils, not roses. You remember which one of us you kissed first; we remember you, too. You think we kissed you, but you kissed us. You cheat as much as we do, which is too bad for us, because we're more trusting. Your peak, in all things, is forty-four years of age. That's not to say you weren't hot when you were younger: you were a knock-out at twenty-six. The funny thing about you is, you think you're hotter now, so you are. However, you give a worse massage than you think you give. (Don't get us wrong, we're not complaining.) You're more patient than we are, but your patience is far from infinite, and your rage, once triggered, runs deeper. You know how to hold a grudge. And yet you'll stick with us for longer than is sensible for you.

You call them your tits, just like the rest of us do. You're more attracted to Sean Penn than you care to admit.

Your hearts beat faster than ours yet you live longer. That doesn't make any sense. You have better balance, but you can't hold your breath as long. You were born and you will die with the same forehead.

You're not that funny. You'd like to go for a drive to Chicago this weekend, but you'll settle for Kansas City. You like to eat. Fuck it, then. Eat. You look better to us when you drink beer out of the bottle, when you play bass guitar in an otherwise all-male band, when you wear cotton briefs rather than a thong, and when you wear clear nail polish or none at all. You also look awesome in a flannel shirt. Apparently, you look best to us when you look like a man - specifically, a drunk lumberjack with rhythm. That doesn't make any sense, either.

That Catholic-schoolgirl thing is hard to explain, but absolutely, yes.

You first broke a boy's heart in the seventh grade. You probably don't even know you did it, but you definitely did. You sat in the front of the class, close to Mrs. Murney, and we sneaked sideways glances at you when we went to sharpen our pencils. Then one day we all went on a ski trip, and on the way home you sat beside us on the bus, and you put your head on our shoulder and we thought we had a chance, but you were just tired from skiing. You looked cute in a stocking cap.

You liked Jason instead. You might be able to fool boys, but you cant fool men. Your boyfriend is a boy. You're not as desperate to get married as the movies make you out to be. If you have children and someone has wronged them, you're just as capable of violence as we are. You would look better either without your tattoo or with more of them. You've felt sicker to your stomach than we have. You're nicer to us than we are to you. But we're nicer people.

You'll still catch yourself wondering what your life would have been like with him long after we've forgotten about her. You hope it will be something quiet and minor and peaceful and slow, too. You'll miss us when we're gone, but not as much as we would miss you. Maybe that's why we die first. Your hearts beat faster, but they have less blood to push.

You know who you are.
Do you want to go to kansas city?

Apartments, etc.

As of October 18th, I will have to be a functioning member of the "real world." Since I am actually 7 years old, this could be a problem. Either way, seeing as my job is in Reston, I'm moving to Arlington with Emily in September! I have spent 22 years in Baltimore, but I absolutely love DC. I'm so excited to have some public transportation and museums. Aside from that, its only an hour and fifteen to Charlottesville. If I really want a Take it Away sandwich or some Gordonsville barbeque, I could make that happen. My Mom and I are going apartment hunting with Emily and Peg the first week in August, which should give us a few different places from which to choose. I am usually into homemade decor, but I recently stumbled on this small company, enormous champion, that I absolutely love. Their prints and notecards are so unique and quirky, they fit right in with things I already own. I just ordered this guy, most likely for my bathroom, and saw some of their wooden animals in a home decorating shop downtown. In the midst of my excitement, I must admit the downside to living in DC, which is the fact that it is outlandishly expensive. I also need to buy a car (see aforementioned family car issues). I'm pretty good with finances, budgets, directions and a lot of apartment-based living components, but I know absolutely nothing about cars. I know its all about gas efficiency, etc, but I really think that cars were meant to make noise. Therefore, I'm not sure I believe in hybrid cars. I don't need a Hummer or anything, but I have been driving an Explorer for the past 4 years and it pretty much goes anywhere. Also, due to my small size, I like to be able to actually see things, which works best in bigger cars. True to form, the SUV/Sedan debate will probably come down to a pros and cons list. If anyone has any suggestions whatsoever, feel free to throw them my way. Between the car and the apartment, I'll be living off PB&J's, but it should be worth it.

The Steel City.

As much as I try to limit my time above the Mason-Dixon line, I do make allowances for exceptionally fun things, such as weddings. My cousin Dave got married this Friday so we went up Thursday for their rehearsal dinner and spent the weekend in Pittsburgh with the Kennedy's. My Mom's entire family is from the Philadelphia or Pittsburgh area, so unfortunately that does mean a lot of Steeler fans in a very small space. It gets ugly from time to time, but there's always Cleveland to help us find common ground if things get particularly dire. Their rehearsal dinner and reception were both at the Pittsburgh Field Club, which is absolutely beautiful. Pittsburgh is at the center of three different rivers that run through the Allegheny mountains, so virtually the entire city (minus downtown) is built on inclines.That church spire off in the distance is actually where they got married on Friday. The extreme variation in height reminded me of Charlottesville; you don't realize how hilly the city is until you reach a point with a view! Saturday was the aforementioned amphibious tour of Pittsburgh, complete with a trip to the Hard Rock Cafe. I'm pretty sure the last time I went into a Hard Rock Cafe I was 9 years old on a church youth group trip to ESPN Zone in downtown Baltimore. Either way, it was cool to actually see the downtown area, including the alleged 460+ bridges of Pittsburgh (this is according to Josh, our guide, who was not wearing tour attire and made several bad jokes about Heinz ketchup, Lebron James and West Virginia).
My Mom and Aunt lived in Pittsburgh until my Mom was three, so we actually went and saw their old house in Chatham Village, a really neat part of the city that reminded me of Old Georgian terrace housing. Even though it was arguably pretty creepy, it was really neat for them to be able to sit on the steps of their old house.





In other news, the Tour de France ended today, along with Lance Armstrong's cycling career. Since my Dad and brother started cycling I have gotten really into it, going so far as to purchase a Tour de France flag when I was in Paris. I am extremely jealous of my good friend Jeffrey who got to see the last stage end today on the Champs Elysees. Jeffrey, next time, I expect a spot in your suitcase.