A N N A J O H N ' S D I A R Y

July 9

Best blueberry pie EVER, originally uploaded by suitablegirl.

Aside from nine games of scrabulous on Facebook, clearing out five voicemails (I fucking hate voicemail.  The only people who leave me voicemail are apparently unaware that I am FAR more likely to immediately check and promptly respond to a text message) and one delicious three hour nap, not much was accomplished today, but that's the whole point of *resting*, innit. I thought I might be done with such boring mandates to"not move", but I went to Safeway yesterday for some Sourdough bread-- it's all I crave when I'm feeble-- and I had a wee reality check.  :(

Safeway is all of two blocks away, but I was winded going uphill, which was a bit demoralizing. I wasn't expecting to feel normal, but wheezing and gasping for air when you're still able to see your house sucks.  More resting it is, then.  I'm sort of feeling better, more like my old, obnoxious self, but actual physical activity makes my lungs scream.  I guess I've mended mentally but not respiratorially.  I totally just made that word up.

I should just accept that it's going to take some time before I'm back to my dancing-on-tables/walk-two-miles-for-an-errand/gym bunny self.  Sigh.

Moderating comments on SM (something I haven't done in weeks) made my chest hurt.  This is why I have stayed away.  It's not worth the toll on my health.  I know, I must learn to let the unbelievable amounts of stupidity roll off my kundi like water off a chembu/arbi leaf, but it's so fucking annoying to read some of that shit.  Panda says I shouldn't lower myself to get mired in debating idiots.  "You're never going to persuade them that they're wrong and they are happy you're engaging them.  All the while, you stress out."

July 4-6: Back to--coughCOUGHcough-- life.

A special note before we return to our irregularly scheduled programming:

one massive thank you to Sania, whose comment single-handedly solved the craptacular mystery bug this blog had a few days ago.  remember?  it was requiring all of you to attempt to log in to read what IS a public site?  if you haven't seen Sania's blog yet, do.  it's so much fun and not at all what I was expecting, from its name.  once there, you'll read something I have always believed-- L'oreal's HIP is good shit for brown girls, innit?  THANKS, SANIA! :)

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The problem with not updating one's blog is simple; the longer one takes to sit one's kundi down and just type something, the more onerous it all seems.  When one is on medication that causes drowsiness, not updating becomes an acceptable way to unacceptably abuse one's beloved diary.

I've been sick.

Really sick.

There doesn't seem to be much point in writing anything here when all I'm supposed to do is rest and drink a lot of fluids and not go outside.  Granted, I am stubborn and useless, so instead of resting, I'll occasionally find myself improvising pasta recipes or sitting on the edge of my couch, in my MTTM tee watching Nadal battle mightily to win the greatest Wimbledon final I've ever seen...but most days, I have nothing new to report, je promis. 

I also am sick of hearing, "wow, you're still sick?  what's wrong with you?".  What, like I enjoy this?  No one is more aware than I am that I have been sick for almost a month and that this all is occurring within six months of my having pneumonia (with which I was also sick for a month).  I'm frustrated enough, I don't need to be put in the awkward and utterly excruciating position of lamely stammering something like, "well, I caught that monstrous bug or virus which just levels people...and then it all just mutated in to acute bronchitis...yes, I took antibiotics, about a week ago...no, still not feeling well...yes, I'm concerned...fine, I agree that I should have seen the doctor two days earlier..."  What are you, my mom?  Even she doesn't give as much of a shit, I assure you.

Anyway, I've resigned myself to being feeble for many, many more days, which is why I allowed myself a brief, shimmering reprise of my normal life by attending the Karsh Kale/Midival Punditz show on Friday night, the fourth of July (aside: I liveblogged that from my wee little phone!!).  I know, not the most brilliant choice if I'm sick but I kept choking on the thought that the event (which also featured the soulful, passionate singing of one stellar Vishal Vaid) seemed a bit once-in-a-lifetime.  What's an extra week of coughing and fatigue compared to THAT?

I was right.  The show was phenomenal.  Magical.  One of the best nights of my life.  I did an admirable job of showing restraint on the dance floor, even though I was just five feet from Karsh himself; I know my limits and any physical exertion usually results in respiratory distress, these days.  But still, to be there, in the presence of people who were euphoric to do what they do, whether that's soaring vocals, spinning choons or playing tabla as if possessed-- there was no greater way to spend a night and squander what little progress I've made in recovering.  I will never forget hearing "Milan", live, or slow dancing in the middle of that crowd, oblivious to the rest of the world, surrendered entirely to the music, my cheek pressed against the smoothest, most gorgeous face I've ever known.  What is life, except the beauty found in such rare and fleeting moments, strung together like prayer beads, to hold on to and meditate on, forever?

April 12: Just What I Needed

What. A. Night.  :)

I picked up my dress and some chocolate milk (excellent tub-thumbing technique: coats the stomach!), rushed home, showered, exfoliated, moisturized, perfumed, eyelashed, glossed, tousled, glittered...and then left for erstwhile-intern-and-forever-adored Samir's "Hot Jazz, Cold Champagne"-event, for Children's Hospital, where I had a martini while listening to SMer ylrsings belt out some choons.  Lovely, yes?  But it got even BETTER. 

That event was over at midnight, so I ended up at Blue Gin for the first time since it opened in '04.  Obviously it isn't one of my favorite places, as evidenced by my four year absence from it, but on Saturday night, it was SO MUCH FUN.  Either that, or seven shots of Goose and Stoli make shitty clubs worth such capitalized proclamations of happiness. 

It feels like it has been forever since I did nothing but dance for two or three hours straight, reluctantly agreeing to leave, only to rush out because, "OMG!  They're playing TRIBE!!!  We have to dance to this!  THEN we can go!".  I forgot how much I love doing that-- and I remembered why I used to, three nights a week.  Dancing.  Love it.

I'm amazed; that used to be a total pre-req for dating-- how could I be with someone who didn't dance?  I don't think I'm being unreasonable, either.  Guys protest that they lack moves, but I love dancing to hip-hop more than anything else, so seriously, is it that difficult to fucking stand there while some girl backs that thing up or dry-humps your thigh?  Why is it so difficult to find a human thigh-master?  WHY?

Anyway, I realized that after going to see my faaaavorite DJ ever, System F/Ferry Corsten in, oh, 2004, I haven't really danced all night, which makes me sad, because that's what I always did in SF (1996-1999, 2003), NY (2002) and DC (1999-2002...the first time).  In the last four years, I was in relationships with two people who didn't really go out, or if they did (i.e., the former), it was to bars with live bands (the latter was rarely and then finally, never around...that's the LAST long distance relationship this penne will ever be in, y'all.  Ugh.). 

Cover bands at the ballroom are nice too, especially if they know what they are doing, but I'd much rather be bouncing around happily to the original version of  vs. shouting the lyrics to "Hey Ya", you know? ;)  Bars are not really my scene, like beer isn't my poison o' choice.  And you know what? Ain't no shame in my motherfucking game.  I'm a Eurotrash girl, and on Saturday, I felt more like myself than I have in years*-- and that was the greatest part of it all.**

::

* This could be a delusion brought on by eleven shots of wodka.

**The Mozzarella sticks I noshed on was lovingly hand-fed when I got home were a close second, I will totes admit that.

April 11

So much for making the "adult" Bhangra Blowout party/Electroganic at Bohemian Caverns...*

::

*which is not to say that I didn't intend to go-- I truly did.  I was all dressed up and even wearing MAC lashes...so you KNOW I thought I was going to go out.  Who the hell fucks with Elmer's school glue DUO lash adhesive if they aren't going somewhere??**

**I did end up going "out", but it was at 3am, to Marjan, where apparently, I was spotted by darling Cousin Lisa...but I didn't see her.  :(  I was just trying to get the hell out of there, since it sounded like there was a huge brown fight right outside, near Zara...not that the shitty chaos within the restaurant was much more pleasant.  Ah, Bhangra Blowout weekend...like me, you never change.

April 8

Yesterday's shenanigans (aside from one legendary hh at Mate/more lemon rice at Amma) are classified. Which means they were *awesome*. :)

April 5

This is Stacy.

I haven't seen her since our graduation, in 2001.

I got to catch up with her, today.  :)

We went to lunch at Zorba's in Dupont (something I've always meant to do, but never got around to), where we dined alfresco.  Then, because I still hadn't had my coffee, we walked all the way down New Hampshire to Illy Caffe in the West End.  Since we had meandered THAT far, Stace asked if we might visit GW, since we were so close.  "Excellent idea," I replied.

We molested the hippo (for good luck), wandered past our old classrooms, marveled at the ridiculously luxe new version of the Marvin Center, shook our heads at the large, genuine Starbucks that is in the library (in!  IN!) and appreciated how much prettier University Yard has become.

In short, we acted like old people.  :)  It was fun.  We promised not to let seven years pass until we hung out again.  I promised to see her, the next time I am near Philadelphia.  The list of people in or around that great city whom I must visit grows!

April 4: a la mode

I have to write this down, because to me, it is a very big deal-- I wore real shoes tonight, to my  meeting-dinner at Heritage India. 

It was exhilarating, to walk down my front steps while wearing something other than a pair of ballet-fucking-flats. Now before you tsk-tsk...I wasn't wearing crazy heels-- more kitten-- but still.  They had pointy toes!  Pointy!  Ballet flats have rounded toes, you see. :)  Ballet flats are also the only vaguely "nice" shoes which could accommodate my ever-useless-ankle during this looooooong, past year of injury.  Oh, the repetitive, boring, limited choice-iness of it all.

Also awesome:  the balmy weather, which rendered my coat superfluous.  The aloo tikki/ma ki dal/laccha paratha were flawless (and what I had been craving for a while).   Oh, and the conversation about what comes next wrt my involvement in this exciting new endeavor...that wasn't bad, either. :)

April 3

I'm sad enough-- this shitty, grey, dreary, wet weather is neither welcome nor appreciated.  Cold is one thing, wet is another...must they both occur simultaneously?  It's April.  April!

I'm dazed by the sheer number of "eek"-inducing things with which I am currently contending...which is why I'm proud of how I made the best of today, when one of my appointments got rescheduled and then finally canceled.  What I initially wanted to do was go home, dry off and then hide in a blanket fort.  What I did was impulsively wander out of the rain and chill in to a nearby museum, where I was rewarded for such a constructive choice; I found a whole suite of paintings, glass and sculpture that made my soul swoon. 

The fact that a majority of that art had to do with loss or death isn't surprising, is it?  This bleakness too, shall pass, though not fucking soon enough, my friends.

April 1: The Joke is on me.

I took my ring off.

April fools!

Except...it wasn't a joke.   This is really happening.  On top of every other fucking problem (aptjobworkhealthandmore) I am facing now, I can comfort myself with the bitter truth that I'll face it all, alone. 

You know, I was fine. 

I was done with everything.  I believed that I was not the marrying kind and I had made peace with that.  But then I met someone.  And he knew the odds of getting his way and the strength of my will, but he persisted, because he wanted me to give it/him/us...a shot.  And I did.  Stupid girl.  I should have stuck to my cynicism.

But how could I?  My sister, who traditionally loathes my boyfriends, was charmed.  And that fact obliterated my Mother's considerable disapproval and negativity; if V liked him, he had to be ridiculously fantastic.  And so I dumbly believed in happily ever after, after all.  It  felt like a dream.  I mean, how awesome was this: all of my friends had married men who didn't get along with their parents/siblings/families.  My family and my boyfriend were in a mutual admiration society.  Go me!

I should have know better.  I should have known that nothing so fantastic can last, that the rug would get yanked out from under my feet sooner or later, and that I'd fall.  I just didn't think that lightning could strike twice, that I would lose someone because of...this.  Again.

It doesn't  matter that I tried to do everything to prevent this from happening, because so what if I gave it my all...once again, it wasn't good enough.  Why do I fucking bother.

March 12: Things Fall Apart

I checked my alerts, saw a new post on SM. 

Read that post and comments, noticed that I was getting credit for something I did not do.

I got confused; I surfed back to past SM post to see who wrote the post I didn't write.

Read the post, started skimming the comments.

Saw a super-courteous, and much-appreciated (even a year later) comment which directed thread-jackers elsewhere, to a whole new post/discussion on that person's own blog.

Followed the link and read the post; still smiling at this point, what an awesome thing for them to do.

Read the first comment and felt like Bruce Banner, turning green as my shirt shredded.

Hulk mad.

Immediately started to respond.

Paused.

Hulk sad.

Realized that many of the people who frequent that space dislike both me and SM.

Asked myself what good would or could come, from my addressing closed minds.

Stifled my inner-15-year-old, who is not so clear-headed, calm or philosophical.

Immediately comforted said 15-year-old, who internally wailed, "I can't keep this in!  Stop telling me that I shouldn't leave this comment because I'll be over it by tomorrow!  YOU'RE NOT EVEN MY REAL MOM!"

Sighed.

Remembered that this is why I have this diary, which I have not felt safe to express myself in, for over a year.

March 7

You know what would kick kundi right now?  Seeing some fotologgers.  Hugging them.  Taking loads of photographs with them.  Getting falling-down-drunk with them.  That would be the perfect Friday night, after all this recent stress.

Hell, that would be a perfect night out, even if I were on vacation!

Oh, look at the time-- I have to figure out what dress I'm going to wear to perfection. :)

You see, SIBIL, NINA and CL are coming to town (or, in CL's case, coming back downtown)!

Expect much flickr-- not fotolog, since I'm retired :(  --much, much flickr.  Not as much dancing, since my ankle is officially re-sprained (I injured a different part of it, when I slipped on the ice. Yay!), but you can be damned sure that there will be much clicking o' the now venerable Canon.  And those embarrassing pics will show up somewhere. :)

February 16-18

All I did was sleep. 

What a waste of a three-day weekend.  I didn't even make it to church, let alone address the laundry/project "space bag" situation. Between the allergies, the pneumonia hangover (?), the cramps and the ankle, I am feeble.  Whyyyy all at once?  And why did Eve ever have to bite that fucking apple?*

::

*That's the answer I received in the 7th grade, when I first got my period and all the attendant misery, and I asked my Mom whose idea this crap-fest was, anyway...

February 12

Today is Tuesday and while Tuesdays are always the worst days of my week because of deadline-laden Wednesday morning, today is extra hives-worthy for two reasons:

1)  I've been given an additional, extremely challenging, "emergency" assignment on top of the two reports I haven't even been able to start yet, both of which are due by COB.  I have never used what I will need to use to finish this urgent task.  Funnily enough, this bothers no one.

2)  I've "heard" that I'm not working enough hours, i.e. it would be greeeat if I could come in even earlier, though I stay until 8 or 9pm, regularly.  Right. I cannot work 12 hour+ days right now.  I am just barely over pneumonia.  I was thisclose to being hospitalized and I left bed-rest a week earlier than I should have, because we were short-staffed and I didn't want to screw over awesome people  whom I genuinely like, so I said I'd come in part-time as long as I was able to get my rest.  Everyone agreed to this, happily.  The whole reason I got so sick, sicker than I've been my whole life, was precisely because I put work first.  Out of the blue, we had a minor staff change.  And the new person missed pneumonia-palooza and just thinks I'm flakey.  Awesome.

My day is scheduled in a way where it's only going to get progressively worse, until about 8:30pm.  Then, I will go home and probably be so stressed/exhausted, I will not want to write any of this down.  So I'm writing it now, during the agonizing moments when I can't move forward because I'm waiting on someone else (it's not their fault).

. . .

When I left the office after one of my toughest days at work, ever (no, I didn't cry, but I sure as hell broke in to hives), I didn't realize everything was so dangerous because of the severe weather (just in time for the Potomac Primary!).  Not only was there a twenty-car pileup in Maryland, there were mini accidents everywhere because of the ice storm.

Once outside, the ground looked wet; it didn't look frozen. The near-total darkness did not help me discern what was ahead of me.  I just knew there was no salt to be found, which automatically made me think "rain, not snow".  The moment I started to skate instead of step, I stifled a freak-out and just took a deep breath.

Though I was walking as slowly and cautiously as I could, in rubber-heeled ballet flats with nubby soles, I slipped on the massively iced-over sidewalks and before I realized it, I was on the ground, with no one nearby and nothing to pull myself up with.  I predicted what would happen next with grim certainty; though I tried to get up carefully, it was so slippery, my right leg moved in a direction it shouldn't.  The word torsion comes to mind. 

Not only did I re-injure my ankle, I hurt my knee.  I couldn't even think about that though, because I was simultaneously enraged/despair-ridden that nine months of excruciating, glacial progress could be undone in an instant, by a different sort of ice.  I had to get home.  I could tell this was bad and now I was cold and scared on top of exhausted and frazzled. I limped in to a taxi.  The driver could tell I was in pain, and he felt so bad.  When he got to my building, he wanted to help me.  I told him it was okay, because he had other people in the cab, so he stayed there, idling, until I made it in to my lobby...but that took a while, because I have stairs to climb and guess what!  The banisters were iced over!  Yay!  I waved to him and he looked sorry for me while driving away.

By the time I got upstairs and took off my ever-present brace and my super-cute Michael Kors outfit, I saw what I was dreading: a swollen ankle.  It was getting worse.  While I had limped to this low point, up to the sanctuary of my apartment, now, I could barely put weight on it.  I was miserable.  I emailed the office and told them I would not be in the next day, since the ice was supposed to continue inflicting death and destruction on the district until lunch time, and I couldn't take the risk of further injury. 

I also needed to not move my worthless ankle for at least a day.  So, I slept for almost 24 straight hours, through all of Wednesday.  I didn't even get up to eat or drink water.  After that, my ankle feels better, but my limp is back.  The pain is back.  And my frustration threatens to consume me, because it's all so precarious, isn't it?  And unfair.  Just when I had three seemingly insignificant milestones that I was so grateful for  (last week, I climbed stairs for the first time in almost a year), I slide backwards, where I desperately did not want to go.

February 4: Monday is for Mufflers

365- day thirty-one:, originally uploaded by suitablegirl. 

One of my favorite people in the galaxy made me this scarf two years ago and I've been in lurve with it, since. No one besides my late Nana ever knitted me anything and even she stuck with blankets after making the little booties I wore as an infant. ;) 

It was just such an unexpected gift, in such an unexpected color.  And knowing the plethora of shades yarn is available in, I was struck by how much care was taken to find the hue that seemed right...for me.  No one else in the whole wide world has this exact scarf.  That's a present in itself. :) Don't we all love custom-everything?  To not have what others do?  (This is why I find the mall-ification of cities like NYC disconcerting, btw.) 

My pretty, knitty friend is so modest, Modest Mouse wants to sue her for infringement. 

February 2: ZzzzzzZzz

I woke up today at 5:30pm and then again, at 8:30pm.

I think that sums up my day rather effectively.

Is this pneumonia or Chronic Fatigue Syndrome?  I've been in bed since yesterday, i.e. Friday, when "payback" for my foolish attempt at returning to work on Thursday commenced. 

Six days of bed rest passed and I thought I was well enough to work on Thursday, which is traditionally one of the "easier" days of my week.  Nine-and-a-half hours later, as I logged out of my Scottish-fold-adorned PC, I realized I was fuuuuucked.  So much for taking it "easy".  Thanks, work! 

Friday morning, I woke up with chills.  I was having coughing fits.  I took medicine and called my Mother, who for once didn't sound bored or blase ("What?  You have bronchitis?  So?  Do you know that I just saw a patient half your age, with a brain tumor?  HALF!").  If anything, THAT scared me most of all, to hear concern from a voice which rarely betrays it.  "You might need to be hospitalized," she said as quietly as one can via speakerphone, and I listed while tying on my ankle brace, near my bed.  I felt woozy, no, more than woozy...I felt like I did, right before I faint, which is something I did regularly during my teen years.  Three hours later, I woke up half on my bed, half on the floor. 

Bad, very bad.

I ripped off work clothes and crawled back in bed and slept.  And I woke up a few times, for a few minutes, usually because I was coughing...but then I'd drink more water, make sure that ABC NEWS NOW (I love it, it's my favorite cable channel, just leave it) was murmuring in my ear and I'd pass out again, almost immediately. 

I used to dream of sleeping for days.  Now I'm doing it, and it doesn't seem to change or improve anything and more worryingly, it increases my anxiety versus counteracting it.  You'd think all this rest would do something...

January 31: Back to work, pneumonia in tow

A wee programming note: some of the pictures I've used on my diary lately are part of a flickr challenge/group called "365days"; the goal is to take one self portrait each day for a year.  That sounds easier than it is-- I'm already four days behind.  Drat and double drat.  This, you see, was one of my NYR.

I explain this because some of you may be wondering about the change in "format" here.  Well, for the first time since its inception in January of 2004, this journal of mine lies neglected.  This really bothers me, but the unpleasant truth is, I don't see AJD the way I once did (which bothers me even more).  It no longer feels natural or obvious to dash off a few paras about my day. 

There's a special place in hell for the person who has had such a depressing, lingering affect on me, not for causing me to turn my face away from this space-- but for making my friends password protect their blogs...when they aren't quitting them entirely.  Innocence has been snatched away, leaving tatters of expressionism where inspiration once ruled.

I've been desperate to get back to diary-ing, and even as I feel that loss and disappointment, I'm doing this "365 days project"; those of you who were around five years ago during the glory days of flog knew that then, the composition of my captions was inevitably superior to the composition of my photos. 

That has not changed.  Though I don't think it's required, I find myself writing mega-blurbs for the daily photo project...and I know, these are the words I once would have typed here.  So, instead of feeling bad about this or guilty over the one or two times I've cross-posted, I'm going to try and be proactive and expand on those captions I write daily on flickr...but I'm going to do that here.  Start there, end here.  That works.

.

August 20

take two., originally uploaded by suitablegirl.

This super-cute picture is from last week, but I just got around to uploading it.  S, the woman in the middle, is moving away from D.C. and I wanted to make sure I saw her before she left.  :(

The other fantabulous female is my cousin.  We still haven't figured out how we're cousins exactly, but that's fine, because it's one of my favorite running jokes at this point.  Besides, it doesn't matter because we have a few Thirumenis between us, and that's all Mallus care about, right? ;)

The only negative aspect of leaving the house and being social is the concept of "payback", which reminds me of one of my sorority sisters who had Chronic Fatigue Syndrome.  She seemed "normal", if a bit low-key, but if she pushed herself and was more active on one day, she "paid" for it the next by suffering from extra exhaustion; the whole cycle left her depressed and fretful about doing much of anything. Two days after this picture was taken, I was having problems walking. 

It's hard to balance what you want with what you need, and I'm still bitter that I missed the New York meetup on Saturday, especially since I was supposed to co-host it.  But I knew I had no choice.  This picture was taken just a few miles from my house, at a relatively chill, accessible place...it's quite a different story to trek out almost 600 miles and lurch around what is apparently a very narrow bar with a terrible bathroom.  How do I know or why do I think that?  Let's just say that I wish I had never read the Yelp reviews...they convinced me that me and my fakakta cast wouldn't be comfortable at Verlaine.

Worse than that, I finally accepted that because of my current physical issues,  I will not be going home for the wedding of one of my oldest, dearest childhood friends this week.  I've been looking forward to some Northern California for months now and I'm dejected that the last time I was able to go home, it was last September.

A year.  It's been a year.  If you had told me at one point, that I would only sleep in my childhood bed or see my Godsons ONCE a year, I would've frowned and told you that you were an idiot.  I used to go home every few months.  But, I was also in school.  Or serendipitously between jobs.  This is the part of being a "grown-up" which I loathe, the distance from my loved ones and my erstwhile home.  The reality of a finite amount of leave, which I've blown through much of, thanks to bronchitis earlier this year and now this ankle-clusterfuck.  My desire to do so is irrelevant, I cannot go home, no matter how wistful I am.

I know I did the "right" thing and put my $#@%&?$# ankle first, but that doesn't mean I'm not pouting about it.  Sigh.  Ten days 'til my MRI...and actual information.  I miss being able to move, I miss feeling independent and fearless. I miss having muscles in my legs which rippled just slightly vs. dimples and smoosh.  I miss everything and for now, there isn't a damned thing I can do about it.

August 12

Four fotologging females, originally uploaded by suitablegirl.

There was an impromptu fotolog meetup in Georgetown on Saturday evening. Everyone was kind enough to indulge my picky eating habits by choosing to go Italian; we had dinner at Paparazzi (where the Panzanella salad was so good, I was craving it today).  That was followed by a slightly awkward/painful limp down Wisconsin to go to Sequoia.  Sibil helped steady me the whole time, and if this were an SATC episode, now would be one of those moments when something vaguely profound is said via Carrie's voiceover...kinda like the moment Miranda followed Charlotte home: "Charlotte never turned around...but she knew Miranda was behind her." 

Can you tell that I've just watched 3 eps of that show?  :)

Anyway, Sequoia was unbelievably rude and much to everyone's surprise and disappointment, unwilling to accomodate the temporarily handicapped.  We were willing to sit down, order food, whatever it  took, but they weren't having it.  Finally, we asked if there was an extra chair somewhere out of the way where *I* could sit, while everyone else enjoyed the Sequoia "experience" standing,  and I do believe this is the moment I was told, "look, please don't give me a hard time about this.  There's nothing I can do."  Right, because I'm inconveniencing you and giving YOU a hard time by having this annoying cast on my leg...sad to say, I run in to that assholey sentiment almost daily, which is awesome.

We waited for Cousin Lisa to retrieve her brother, whom I finally met for the first time and then I insisted we go elsewhere...so to Mate we went.  Or limped, rather. I got a seat at the bar, and we were all relieved that we had found a place to finally relax and enjoy ourselves.  I slurped some of the best drinks I've ever had in D.C. while laughing uncontrollably for the rest of the night.  An hour or so in, when the manager came by and said, "I'm going to have to ask for that chair", I replied, "May I keep it?  My leg is in a cast-" and he waved me off, shook his head and said, "Of course!  Don't worry.  There are others.  I hadn't seen the cast until now."  I'm not asking for a ton, Sequoia.  And Mate is way nicer than you (in every possible way) and they were way nicer to me, so to quote Dooce or Will and Grace or someone white and funny, SUCK ON IT.

We had the most amazing time, as evidenced above, in my favorite picture of the night.  :)  I love these girls and when I found out that they were coming down from NYC and Philly, I thought it was the least I could do to schlep myself over to wherever they were-- and I'm very glad I did.  I haven't had fun like that in quite a while, in part because of my %$#$#% leg.

I'll be honest, there was a physical sort of cost, and I had to nap the entire day away (I'm not used to all that walking, with this heavy black boot, for one thing), but every time I woke up, there was a huge smile on my face and another memory of outrageously good times surfacing within.  I'll gladly have an "unproductive" Sunday when gifted with all that, and like most sane people, I'll choose laughter over laundry, every time.

August 3

Dg badge, originally uploaded by suitablegirl.

I'm so surprised and dismayed, I'm unable to type efffectively...

I just found out that Ann Coulter is also a Delta Gamma alum. 

Oy.

I don't love my sorority any less, but I can hardly bear the thought that Ann Coulter and I are...sisters.  Lord, help me.

July 23

I miss walking.  It probably sounds strange, dumb and/or confusing to read, but I do. 

I used to walk home from work.  I loved doing that; I walked through the city, pausing at the White House, staring at the  moon, all while falling a little more in love with D.C.  I felt so accomplished when I reached my front steps, after three miles of the best sort of natural, interesting cardio ever.

I can't even walk two blocks now, without experiencing some pain.  It's not the ache that vexes me, it's the sense of helplessness.  I miss "not caring", as in, not having to plan everything around my damned ankle.  What?  The Travis concert?  Oh...can't stand for that long.  SAJA?  Not when I'm flat on my back, zonked out on painkillers.  Out of groceries?  Damn, can't even walk to the store. 

My entire city-fied life was based on walking, on not needing a car or even the metro, or anyone's help for that matter.  Now, I get shoved on the metro platform, if the escalators and elevators are working in the first place, that is...and then I don't get a seat, despite the very obvious cast which goes up to my knee.  I can't really drive, unless it's urgent and that means taking OFF the cast and pressing pedals to the point of further injury.  So, if I can't walk, I can't drive and I can't take the subway.  Where does that leave me?

Frustrated.

And this is only day five, of a much longer sentence.

::

Despite it all, I'm trying to be positive, I promise.  I know, not so convincing...

May 22

It's what's for dinner., originally uploaded by suitablegirl.

After that one hellacious week when I didn't get to go to lunch for five days straight, I've been paranoid enough to keep food around constantly.  Of course this means that now I actually do have time for lunch, because that's just how my life works.  A Charlie Foxtrot-magnet-- that's me!

At about 8pm tonight, I was massively relieved that I had squirreled away plenty o' crap (and by squirreled away, I mean left it in the Whole Foods bags from whence they came), because I had a last minute memo which I couldn't leave without finishing.  This obviously meant that I was going to probably miss dinner-- and after a day which was mostly fueled by a large coffee, random handfuls of trail mix and then a double-shot iced drink, I could just SEE how this would all end badly.  So thanggawd I was the prepared, na?

Anyway, twelve hours later, I was done but my meeting is first thing tomorrow morning and this means I have to get in to work almost two hours before I normally do (I'm a 10am - 7pm kinda girl), so I'm still stressed...the client dropped this request on us at the very last minute and there was no template to follow nor was there any advice to seek out-- I just kinda pulled it out of my sundress-clad kundi.  Here's hoping it doesn't stink.

Thank you, I won't be here all week.  :)  Tip your bartenders, yo.

April 17

Minal, originally uploaded by suitablegirl.

Thank you, Sibil, Nina, #25 and Chaitan.  I really needed you.

::

Four hours of crying on and off = no more kleenex.   I don't know Minal, but I can't stop thinking about her.  She could have been any of you-- she was the same age as a few of you.  She reminded me of some of you.  She reminded me of Veena.  I think that's why I wrote her obituary, though I want to vomit a little by terming it as such.

I spent most of the day numbly trying to be productive.  Yes, monitoring the threads kept me mired in the massacre but i was almost glad for the awareness of it.  I want to think of the lost; I want to remember.  I want to pay my respects in some tiny way.

It was surreal sometimes; people would walk up and announce inane things to me (issues with parking...annoying developments after a meeting) and part of me would just stare at them in wonder, thinking..."32 people died.  Someone was so troubled they caused this.  And what will happen to his family...etc".  Yes, life goes on.  It can't stop for tragedies.  But somehow, it feels  weird to me that it doesn't.

::

I feel like having a meetup.  I feel like eating pani puri, in memory of her.  I'd think about it more, but I have a ridiculously early meeting, need to go to bed.  I need sleep for many reasons.  I hate this type of exhaustion, because it only comes at tumultuous, weepy times like this.  Tonight, I'm sleeping with my tortoise.

April 16

brunch flower, originally uploaded by suitablegirl.

I am so upset, so stressed that I am numb.  And I have hives.  I was at work until midnight (14 hours) and while I knew it would be a long Monday,  it was about 4 hours longer than it needed to be because I wrote this, about the horrific tragedy at VT.  Commence venting, which I would hope I'm allowed to do because I am among friends here:  when you write a post like that, the extra shitty trolls come out to fling their hatred, so you need to monitor it literally every other minute.  It's also important to update it, when necessary.  This takes a toll.

While everyone was thinking or talking about this nightmare at various points, I was mired in it via covering it and I'm already a uselessly hyper-sensitive, emotional wreck...blogging like that takes all of my weaknesses and has a field day with them.   The last time I felt like this, Bombay was devastated by terrorist's bombs.  I put so much care and effort in to SM...sometimes, the comments I get are just heartbreaking; I just wish people would assume something other than the worst about me, but that goes for so much more than blogging. 

Why do I do slave away at the Mutiny?  Because I can't NOT do it.  When breaking news happens which is relevant to SM, and I'm the only one free, then it's my fucking responsibility to write it and I take that shit seriously.  I'm not complaining, I swear...SM is my baby.  It is the absolute manifestation of my heart, it's a labor of passionate love.  But it does take a toll.  Especially on days like today, which followed last week, when I spent 60+ hours researching/blogging/monitoring the site (before/betwixt/after my 40-hours at work).  It's exhausting but I can't just walk away.  And that's all I wanted to say. :(

::

I know I'm stressed beyond the blog.  Hives?  Check.  Blemish?  Check.  Sleeplessness?  Check.  Irritability?  Yup.  Worthless immune system? Well, I've been sick since LAST monday.  Hair falling out in CHUNKS?  Check.  It's the last sign which gives me pause.  I was washing my hair and I just kept pulling and pulling and yes, I know, you lose a certain amount daily, but what fell out was more like what I lose in a week. 

April 1

Sunday Brunch @ Harry's., originally uploaded by suitablegirl.

Whenever someone is visiting DC, I want to make sure they enjoy everything which makes it so unique and loverly.  I show off the best of chocolate city, like it's my job to, despite the fact that this is my "third" favorite place (after NYC and SF).  This luxe tourguiding is especially easy to do when they are paying (thanks, Ma!).  I keed, I keed.  Okay maybe I don't.  ;)

In my obnoxious opinion, the best brunch I have ever had is available at Harry's Tap Room.  Unfortunately for me and the out-of-towner, they were out of their legendary brioche french toast (blasphemy!) but everything else was rather excellent.  A bad brunch at Harry's is superior to great brunch everywhere else. 

My favorite way to spend Sunday involves reading the paper.  Since I'm now a regular at HTR, they let us linger for far longer than we should have, so we could keep perusing the Post.  It was a little bit o' bliss, I tell you.  :)

March 21

Bday party..., originally uploaded by suitablegirl.

Wow, this blog has been neglected. :(

I'm consumed with work and my phoenix-like return to Sepia Mutiny...and blogging IS a zero-sum game...if I write posts there, I don't have time for anything here. But moderating those comment orgies takes a minute, y'all. Or several hundred. Le sigh.

Two things which don't make me exhale sadly:

1) Chocolate cake. It was "March Birthday Madness" at work today-- the collective party for all the employees whose birthdays are this month. Lunch of champions, I tell you. ;)

2) The impromptu FLOG MEETUP IN DC which is apparently goin' down manana. :D Ah, I can't wait for all the hugging, squealing, mocking (from Saji) and of course, the batatas bravas. Yum.

Pictures a'comin. But you knew that. :)

March 2

Weight: 136.6
BF: 26

Kcal: :)
Vasa: :)

Gym: I walked home AGAIN.  All THREE MILES.  That would be the third time I did that, this week. :)  w00t me!

Wrote: :)
Heard: "Here (In Your Arms)" ~ Hellogoodbye via Accuradio

Last type of cheese consumed: whatever Chipotle uses, b/c I done had me a boo-ree-toe.

I 'mell like:  Aveeno and Degree.  I'm bringing sexy back, two drugstore prods at a time.  Ya heard?

:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:

I've never been THAT much of a walker, except for back in 1999, when I commenced grad school and walked to Amma's Wegetarian in Georgetown EVERY DAY for a Mysore Masala Dosa before class. It was about a mile each way so I didn't really gain an ounce, despite my daily dose of greasy goodness (which included an addictive Salt Lassi before and a heavenly Semiya Payasam afterwards). 

March 1

$12., originally uploaded by suitablegirl.

Weight: 136
BF: 26

Kcal: :)
Vasa: :(

Gym: :(
Wrote: :)

Heard:
Partir, O Ciel! Desio from Il Viaggio a Reims -  Rossini
Recondita armonia, Tosca - Giacomo Puccini
Fidelio: Ah! perfido Op.65 - Beethoven
O Silver Moon (Mesicku na nebi hlubokém) - Dvorak
Turandot: Tu, che di gel sei cinta - Giacomo Puccini
Les Nuits D'ete, Op. 7 - 6. L'lle Inconnue - Berlioz

February 28

Weight: 136
BF: 26

Kcal: :)
Vasa: eh

Gym: I think three miles of walking home totally counts. Especially when it only took 45 minutes.

Wrote: :(
Heard: on the walk-- started with KRS-One, Beastie Boys, Fat Joe, Nas…then ended with The Sundays, Dinosaur Jr and K.B. Sundarambal.

Last type of cheese consumed: cheddar, provolone + swiss on my triple cheese(garden)burger with extra jalapenos and tomatoes, @ lunch

I 'mell like: Bergamot/Lavender/Coriander/Rose/Jasmine/Violets…because I just used extra-heavy cream to moisturize my feet and it's still on my hands.

:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:

Hey…I saw your status thing about how your thinking about "leaving the virtual party". I hope everything is okay with you and I hope you stay. Not just because you make work go faster when you post here or on your flog, but also since I can really relate with what you write. You can't leave! :)

It's true…I'm kind of anti-blogging these days, but I'm not soothed by this change in my demeanor, so I'm trying something old skool to see if it forces me to post. Hence what you see above, which is how my diary used to work 38 months ago, when I commenced it. I haven't used those categories (or any, for that matter), since September 21, 2004 so I'm feeling all nostalgic as I stare at them now.

February 26

There is something deeply satisfying about walking all three miles home from work, passing each red-line station I would normally take or stop at and declining its offer of easier transport.  It was a clear night, free of snow, rain and wind; therefore, relative to Sunday, it was perfect.  Actually, it was quite similar to fondly-remembered foggy mornings in San Francisco, when we first-graders would gleefully run outside to play "Star Wars" at recess (I always got to be Leia Amidala Skywalker!) sans jackets.  Little girls clad in just our Peter-Pan-collared, short-sleeved blouses and plaid jumpers, our bare legs oblivious to the possibility of goose flesh, our shrieks and giggles ricocheting off hills.  Yes, considering the rather Catholic outfit, that was exactly what it felt like, tonight. 

When you live in an amazing city, the least you can do is walk around and smile at it once in a while, as you appreciate the ground beneath your feet.  I miss San Francisco like a lost limb, I will always adore New York as if it were my first, but Washington, D.C. is obviously where I'm meant to be (since I keep getting sent back here, no matter how many times I attempt to leave).  It's like being in an arranged marriage with my address.  I'm learning to really love and appreciate it, even if I was initially apprehensive, unsure or disappointed. 

I need to walk home more often.  :)

February 24

Hell yeah, it tastes better..., originally uploaded by suitablegirl.

I woke up this morning all excited because I was going to brunch at what is essentially "my house"-- Amma's Wegetarian in Gtown.  When I'm there, I get insulted, mocked, nagged and am constantly threatened with spankings.  It's fantastic.

A super close friend whom I haven't seen since my birthday was sweet enough to come scoop me in something pristine and German, which meant ONE highly awesome thing-- I could dress utterly impractically.  I've been aching to wear my white cashmere coat with the thinsulate lining, but I've avoided doing so because the Metro and, well, everything is filthy and the coat is sooo pretty.  I also was able to wear my "Minnie Mouse"-esque patent platform pumps with the 4+ inch heels.  Those were a somewhat stubborn choice considering that there was still ice on the ground, but whatever.  I never get picked up in lush, suburban rides.  I was going to enjoy it, damnit.

At Amma, I ordered the Kerala Thali for the first time, ever.  This is a huuuge deal-- I'm super change-resistant (many of you have heard me state that this was possibly the biggest reason why I felt right at home politicking with elephants for so long, once upon a Shrub-free time) and at restaurants, I order the same thing for years if it's yummy the first time I try it.  So, at Dos Coyotes Border Cafe in Davis, I've chosen the Santa Fe Nachoes (with no guac) every time I've gone there, since 1993.  At Amma, I've had the Mysore Sada Dosa since 1999. 

February 20 (updated)

Fly argyle..., originally uploaded by suitablegirl.

1:30 am...Fall asleep, dreading the alarm...

3:30 am...Alarm. Told you it was dread-worthy.

4am.......Panic...shit shit shit...overslept!

5am.......Finish packing, rush downstairs.

5:20am...My, my...that "sports package" and stability control certainly come in handy when you're careening through traffic at 90 mph.  Zehr gut, ya.  To quote Alan Cummings from one of my fave SATC eps ever, "We likey."

5:50am...Eeeevil witch from United delivers bad news about my flight just before she insults someone with a WHEELCHAIR. I immediately feel less bad (for me) and worse (for the freshly insulted), simultaneously. How can anyone be mean to someone with a WHEELCHAIR??

6:05am…MORE panic. Have never flown standby, which is what I've just been assigned. Shit.

6:15am…Hang up with United (who have outsourced my call to our people, judging from the conversation i just navigated with "Robby"…well, Jai Hind etc etc). There are no available seats back to DC until 7:30 PM. The three still open for THEN are ALL first-class.

6:30am…Serious panic. Will be sacked. Surely.  Having. problems. breathing.

6:45am...Azhagan multitasks; he simultaneously hugs me, pats my back + reassures a shaking me while booking a new ticket on Delta.

December 26

First:  Thank you to everyone who left comments on my last post.  Thank you to those of you who've called me daily to see if I was okay (some of you from Germany!!!).  Thank you for candles lit and prayers said. I'm touched by the fact that you would interrupt your holidays and vacations to listen to me weep.  You are all good souls and I will never forget your kindness.

Second: I woke up today and within minutes of doing so, I realized my Grandmother was gone.  It took me all of two seconds to explode in to tears and commence hyperventilating.  This time of year is always torture because of my Dad and now I have to mourn both of them.  It's just sick, the timing of this.  It's destroying me.  I didn't leave the house yesterday, at all.  And no, I didn't see anyone, either.  I spent Christmas alone, in my wee little apartment, hitting "refresh" (I'll get to THAT in a second) which was just as well because no one needs to be around someone so un-fucking-believably miserable right now.

But, it's a no-win situation.  Though I didn't want to ruin anyone else's holiday with my soggy presence, on top of missing two lost loved ones whom I will never see or touch again (annnnd...cue the tears),  I also felt pathetic for being alone on what used to be my favorite holiday, for being here, for being so far away from everyone I love.  If the weather hadn't been so nasty, I would've forced myself to go outside, to walk until I was cold or tired or distracted.

December 12

Next year, I'm going to take the entire month of December off.  I'm going to go hide somewhere.  I hate December.  It's torturous enough on most years because of what I just linked to, but this year, after the autumn from HELL, I'm even less equipped to relive those terrible last days, to manage all the extra sadness this time of year will forever bring. I'm anxious to the point where I wake up with chest pains, and that's assuming I can fall or stay asleep at all.

One step forward, two huge stumbles back.  I know Veena is going to be okay. I know I should be relieved because I probably have a job (I say "probably" b/c I never quite believe it's real until I get my first paycheck). I should be a million better things besides the way I feel right now, which is just wretched.  I didn't go to the gym today, b/c I went on Saturday and Monday and pushed myself even though I haven't been eating; I worked out in part b/c I was hoping it would stimulate my desire to eat.  Didn't work.  I have no appetite.  I can't stomach solid food. I thought it would pass, but I've felt this way since Saturday.  Working out on an absolutely empty stomach reeks of an eating disorder.  I don't like this.  I don't like this constant state of tension, this anticipation of what fresh new hell awaits around every corner.  I don't like this at all.  :(  And yeah, if it isn't patently obvious...I miss my Daddy.  They lied; it doesn't get easier as time passes.

December 10

If I could, I think I'd wear Kanjeevaram every day.  I never want to take those saris off.  It's true.  I've dawdled to the point of falling asleep in them, much like I did when I was seven and refused to take off my "princess" dress--a white, miniature ball gown my father purchased for my birthday.  I passed out in it, long after my party was over and my 75 guests had gone home. 

I feel more beautiful, more special and somehow, though it doesn't seem logical, more authentically myself when I'm wearing six+ yards of silk.  I think I was born in the wrong place, at the wrong time.

December 4

Monday morning: despite some initial weirdness (threat level orange, airport-like security procedures) and one guard's refusal to understand that I was there for an interview and thus desperately needed him to alert the hiring manager upstairs of my arrival vs. talk to me about what California is like weather/housing/dating-wise, lest said hiring mgr think I am a late, poo-like candidate, even though I got there 17 minutes early, which is a new record for me...the "most important interview of the YEAR" went...
.
.
.
.
well.  :)

It also went for nearly TWO HOURS, b/c he kept thinking of more things to ask me, but in the most casual, conversational way...I was truly surprised.  I had anticipated a grueling interrogation from a tough-as-nails interviewer, but I spent time with a nice, interesting potential boss, instead. I was shocked when I went back outside, by both the late hour AND the brutally icy wind, which made my eyes leak and my hair freeze. 

I was so nervous last night, I didn't go to sleep until 3am and I had to be up at 7ish...so while I was exhausted post-interview,  I had to take care of a banking errand before I could even consider resting, b/c I knew once I let my head touch any soft surface, I'd be done.  Of course, I walked in to the branch and was #16 in line, stranded with no less than three squalling toddlers who were desperate to be freed from their strollers.  I don't know how parents can ignore shrieking...maybe you just don't hear it after a while, the same way I stopped noticing the sound of trains passing my childhood home.  Except this is ear-splitting, sound-as-violence...so I think you'd notice it, no matter how often you're subjected to it.  I think it's hilarious that as I typed this, I just crossed my legs. ;)

Banking isht done, I got home at 4 and had passed out by 4:30 or so...I didn't wake up for almost three hours and it was glorious.  I had received maybe ten hours of sleep in the last 64 hours and I was emotionally, physically and mentally exhausted.  Being "on" so often during this past week reminded me of sorority rush.  Except despite whatever I thought as a potential pledge twelve years ago, this is so much more terrifyingly important...

November 30

I had an interview at 2pm and it went well.  So well that I have a second interview scheduled for 1pm tomorrow.  Two interviews in under 24 hours is always a good thing for impatient me.  :)  I attribute this drastic turnaround of my job-search fortune to all of you and your unwavering positivity.

You went out of your way to affirm that I shouldn't regret receiving a degree which required taking on sooo much in student loans, I could have paid for a Mercedes G-class.  You validated my choice to pursue additional knowledge, even though it might frighten off the apparently-easily-spooked-according-to-my-Aunt Malayalee boys...that is, when it's not destroying my chances of getting hired by marking me as "overqualified".

I heart you, dear commenters. :)  You really know how to cheer a girl up. 

And no Brian, I'm not taking my Aunt seriously.  Well, sometimes, in my lowest moments, I can hear my Auntie shrieking in my head and I wonder if I did screw up my chances for finding a Mallu mate NOT because I'm, um, "overqualified" but b/c I ostensibly wasted the most valuable two years a Kerala girl has for husband-hunting by gettin' my edumacation on instead of perusing pictures and meeting "potentials". The "sweet spot" for white dresses and kanjeevaram at the reception is age 24-26.  Those just happen to be the exact years I spent at GW, where there were no Malayalee boys who were older than me. :) 

This devastated my parent more than it did me. My Mom had this long-cherished dream that I would be studying at the library...and then I'd look up...and there he would be, looking at me while clutching a tome of something-or-other before dropping it and reaching in to his pocket for the emergency-blood-diamond he would obviously keep on-hand at all times for his intended. Then he'd get down on one knee and 30 seconds later, I would call her on my mobile to tell her that she could relax, I was not a problem child and that I would be pregnant by the time I got back from my honeymoon and that no, I was not going to be like Thomas Uncle's mandi mol and waste $100,000 on a wedding when I could instead have a tiny ceremony that was humble and use such a princely sum on a down payment for a nest where I could hatch my eggs.

Moms has quite an imagination.  :D

Anyway, back to life, back to REALITY...I actually have TWO interviews tomorrow and I have to say, I'm grateful but exhausted.  No time for that, now OR anytime soon.  I'm gone all day Sunday helping a friend and I have an interview Monday, as well.  Even if we disregard THAT for the moment and just consider the last few days plus tomorrow, then I am incredulous to report that I had more interviews this week than I did in the entire month of October.  Yowza.  And the price of such progress?  After going to the gym 4x/wk for the last few weeks (I even went ON Thanksgiving day!!!), I haven't gone ONCE this week.  I've slept a lot less.  And I've been a bit more high-strung as I constantly pray that there is no clusterfuckage when it comes to public transportation.  But, I'm so thankful for all that ick, b/c I reeeeeally need a job and for the first time since the end of September, I actually feel like I might just get one.  :)  You know I'll keep you posted. :) :) :)

November 28

So...not only is having a Master's degree the reason why I am unmarried (according to my Aunt, who says that the Malayalee boy should have more education than the Malayalee girl, lest he feel jealous and then make everyone miserable), it is also the reason why I'm less desirable professionally. I promise I'm not overqualified.  I can aim low.  I promise.

Yeah, the interview?  Not so good.  :(  Sigh.

November 27

You know, my Monday was AWESOME, from start to finish. :)

I've realized that most of my favorite friends are bloggers or mutinous commenters and I am totally FINE with that. :)  Why wouldn't I be?  You are all top-quality peeps.  Now, when someone expresses concern or weirdness about  making friends with someone bloggy (for example), I just laugh (but I resist pointing out that the people you dig online are almost always more compatible than the people you met offline...I like letting people discover that isht for themselves.)

I saw Maisnon last night at BN, before we meandered over to La Tasca, in Clarendon.  It was my first time at the latter and I must say their sangria (both red AND white) is so good.  As if all that wasn't fantabulous enough, I had LUNCH with her today at Amma.  Let me tell you, the only thing better than madras coffee is roaming about Gtown (Body Shop, MAC...BN...we're bookish, yo) post-prandially on a lovely, sunny day.

A few hours after I reluctantly left her, I met one of YOU for the first time!  KN went out of his way to hang out with me and seriously, the pleasure was all mine.  I was so excited to meet him at Dupont starbucks, I inappropriately, effusively gave him a hug "Hello" which I regretted for a nanosecond ("Omg...he doesn't know me...he's going to think I'm a freak!  Wait...I *am* from CA...") until I saw the burnished Gold bag he was holding-- he had bought me a ginormous box of Godiva Truffles.  For no reason. Isn't he teh sw33t?  :D  Suddenly, the hug was an apposite gesture. ;)

Unexpected sugar is glee-inducing, but what I really enjoyed was how he was so fun to talk to...and how he understood Malayalam perfectly, despite not being Mallu. We actually had sooo much to talk about, since we've been interacting for months now, on SM, via 55Fridays, on flickr etc.  It's nice to finally merge real life with the virtual. :)  We closed out Starbucks and went to Cosi...if the metro hadn't been about to stop running, I'm sure all the giggly, exclamation-laden goodness would've continued.  How pavaam is this: he kept saying, "I didn't know if you'd meet me-" and I kept cutting him off by telling him, "You came all the way from Florida...why WOULDN'T I meet you?  It's not like you're random." 

I won't tell you what made all of this extra swoon-worthy, since it involves some rock star rescheduling and juggling of logistics on his part, but suffice to say, I felt so very precious (I'm worth ALL that trouble?), lucky (CHOCOLATE!!!)  and giddy that I know people who are so wonderful (both offline and on-).   :)    See?  Most of my life is massively gratitude-worthy.

November 22

The good-half of my day:

I re-taped part of my interview with PRI/BBC "The World" and had a marvelous time laughing with my interviewer, who has a great voice and an even greater niceness which just radiates right through the phone.  I can't wait to hear how the piece turns out.  :)  Immediately after phoning it in, I got to see one of my favorite people, who just happened to be in my neighborhood (and who was looking exceptionally hot, I might add).  I have amazing friends.  :)

The less-fun half of my day:

The only thing worse than desperately seeking a job is doing so in 29 ("feels like" 24) degree weather, in relentless rain, when the destination is hardly metro-accessible (read: lots o' walking, inclement weather or not).  Even if I could've justified splurging on a cab, there wasn't an empty one in sight, which is to be expected when it's so nasty out.   

Nothing like showing up to an interview half-soaked with frizzy hair and chattering teeth, smelling like eau de german shepherd, since a "refined pea coat" (that was J.Crew's description, not mine...it's very nice though, cashmere blend and longer, to the knees) isn't so refined when it's drenched and offering up the reek of wet wool.  Despite all the misery to-and-fro, I think I made a good impression.  We'll see, though I think it's totally telling when even the strip club down the street ain't hiring (don't ask me how I know that...okay fine, ask me, but I'll have to tell you at some later time).

Also?  Eatzi's abruptly going out of business RIGHT before Thanksgiving?  Brutal.  That was my favorite bakery and take-out place in D.C.; who else is going to make Cranberry Orange Bread (with Ginger)?  :(  I predict further weight loss, shortly.

November 20

IMG_0082, originally uploaded by suitablegirl.

I had the most amazing time at Nina and Toby's wedding on Saturday, which was in Philadelphia. :)  My cousin Lisa (in pink, above, between me and the glorious bride) picked me up at Glenmont and then off we went, on one very fun road-trip.  She's such an awesome Auntie-in-training...she made a thermos of CHAI, complete with cardamom and had little cups and everything ready to go.  i was just in love with the flask thing it was in...it was so neat (lit. and fig.) and the chai was STILL warm over eight hours later.  The drive was surprisingly easy; we lucked out traffic-wise, both ways, actually.

We stayed at the Wyndham with two other fotologgers, which guaranteed a slumber-party like atmosphere-- that's always fun, especially for me, since I wasn't allowed to attend or host such events when I was small enough to really want to.  All of us got ready rather efficiently, piled in Lisa's trusty car, survived the devil's attempt to kill us when Lisa apparently got cut off and slammed on the brakes harder than I've ever experienced (as Taby and I went flying and flailing about the back seat) and then finally got to the MT church.  I was somewhat excited, because I've never been to a Malayalee church which was "built from scratch", so to speak.  The Jacobite churches I've attended (and the one MT church I went to once, a few years ago, in DC) were all "pre-owned", i.e. they were built for and used by other congregations before a bunch of parents pooled a ton of money together to buy them.

November 17

In 3 hours, I'm supposed to wake up, pack and then take the metro to a waiting Cousin Lisa.  Then, we're going to Philly for Toby and Nina's wedding. :) I'll finally get to meet a few of the other fotologging females from New York who haven't made it to our alcohol-soaked meetups yet; tomorrow night, it'll be a slumber party at the hotel.

Now I just hope I don't oversleep...Cousin Lisa is a stickler for adhering to her military-like schedule.  I'm almost scared to fall asleep...

Assuming everything unfolds as it should, I'll be back on Sunday, with a few hundred pictures. :)

November 16

Mini Cooper, Maxi Love, originally uploaded by suitablegirl.

Today's storms were fierce, scary and depressing, but when they went away, the sky looked glorious.  I know.  The first moment I could, I ran out after suffering from cabin fever all day and I couldn't stop looking up at that which had gilded everything I saw with such dazzling, golden light.  The world glittered, even though it had been drenched.

:+:

Dedication (n):  mournfully realizing that going to Target means that the gym will close by the time you get back to the city and immediately extending your zipcar reservation accordingly, so you can hit the 24-hour WSC and lift (legs) before you turn the car in for the night.

That's four times in six days, bitches.  I love it.  Everyone will be fatter in exactly one week, except for ME.  :D

November 15

So...I've been looking at jobs and applying for them for the last few weeks...

There was only one opportunity I was genuinely excited about, only one I wished away eyelashes for, only one I fretted over...and I found out today that I wasn't the one they chose.  I learned this late, via a one-page email which really didn't need to be that long, which was filled with sentences that were ostensibly meant to comfort me; they didn't.  They made me feel awful.  The four-word message they might as well have scrawled across the screen?  "You're not good enough."  I was in to this company.  I loved the offices, I dug the people there, I craved this "ending" to my saga, b/c it seemed to burgeon with the promise of, "See? It all happened for a reason-- you got laid off so you could end up here".   All of that made it THAT much more difficult to get over, though it's also possible that I've had to get over so much lately, that my ability to "over" is spent.  I pushed the letter away as my mascara went all gooey.  I just wanted to sleep.  I just wanted my F.A.O. Shwarz teddy bear, Roosevelt.  I just wanted to disappear. 

Instead, I ate four chocolate-chunk cookies for dinner and then passed out in to a nap which felt like a coma.  I felt guilty for resting at "the wrong time", b/c my sleep is a fragile thing and it's so easy for me to be a dysfunctional sleeper.  Then I thought, "Sometimes, you just have to indulge yourself and allow such nonsensical choices."  I'm not entirely convinced, but whatever.  I felt a bit of distance once I woke up, and it was wonderful in comparison to the state I had been in pre-slumber.

I eyed the bottle of zin on my coffee table, then the JW Gold...this would be an excellent night to buzz away the pain.

November 14

I went to the gym for the second time in four days.  This (pathetically) is a new record.  I only did half-an-hour of cardio, but the fact that I dragged my ass out of my yummy, gemutlich little nest, in to the cold, dark night to get sweaty is utterly impressive.  I wish that WSC stayed open later-- if they had, I would've lifted...something.  That's what I did on Saturday.  Cardio and arms.  I even have the wee little stretch marks on my biceps to prove it. ;)

Sigh.  An entire lifetime ago, I remember working out at 24-hour fitness, in Fremont, in 1996 at 3am when I couldn't sleep...damn I took that shit for granted.  I thought all gyms were open all the time.  Sadly, in this almost world-class city, not.

Also?  Gilmore Girls...you have jumped the shark and you no longer delight me in the way your reruns continue to do...and to think, the one thing I wanted most for my fave Mother-daughter duo finally happened tonight.  And I multi-tasked all the way through it, while once upon a time, I wouldn't have moved an inch, for the entire hour you were on...

November 9