Utils in Bat Country

Oh, boutiques

On Saturday, Tass and I went out to wander around Baltimore.  I knew I wanted to go to Babe (this awesome little boutique) so we popped in after brunch and as always, I had my 20 minute window of willpower and then we had to leave because I would cave on the jewelry and things that sadly have to be left off the to do list include spending hundreds of dollars on pretty, pretty necklaces. (Alas.)

Wandered up the road and Tass had to stop into work for a minute so I said I'd meet her at another boutique across the road that we hadn't explored before.  I walk in and know within 10 seconds that there is nothing in the store for me - though in my quest to prove that I can find something to buy in any store, there was a super soft plain purple tshirt that I admired - as most of the merchandise looked straight out of 1982.  I realize that means the shop was super on trend but I do not want faded puffy denim jackets with sweatshirt sleeves to return to my closet.  Especially not for $168.  Since I had a bit till Tass would be there, I figured I'd make the best of it.  Tried to figure out the half leather, half spandex, gold zippered to make into shorts, then hot pants leggings, bizarre t shirts with hems so long in the back they trailed the floor, mentally cracked up imagining putting together an outfit to wear to my meetings and then it happened.  

Now, before I explain, I should say that Tass and I are both firmly anti-romper on anyone over the age of 18 months. And yet, whether due to shopping withdrawl or being worn down because of ubiquity or proving the Kool Aid theory, there was a romper at Anthro that I wishlisted a couple weeks ago.  I confessed to Tass and she shrieked and insisted it be removed right that second.  In my defense, I'd never actually buy it (well, maybe it if got multiple cuts down to $9.95) but it's become a bit of running joke.

So! Back in the crazy boutique, what should I happen upon?  A most ridiculous romper with paper bag white and olive shorts with an olive t shirt top and exposed gold zipper.  It actually wasn't uncute and I figured I could taunt Tass by trying it on and sending her fitting room images telling her what happens when she leaves me alone in stores.  Pop into the dressing room and realize that there are no mirrors.  Noooo! Thwarted.  But I'd come that far, I was trying the darn thing on. Wriggled into it, stuck my head out to make sure there weren't people around and came out to face the mirror.  Aside from not fitting properly, my torso wasn't long enough so there was all this extra t shirt fabric at the back, I just looked ridiculous. But I did critically eye the paper bag waist look and I have to admit, I wasn't entirely displeased.  The shop owner came back and started telling me how awesome I looked and what a great piece it was and I smiled and nodded and mentally shouted 'Lies!'.  Got back behind the curtain, put back on actual pants and heard the dulcet tones of Tass echoing through the store.  Obviously put it back on for her amusement and she wasted no time telling me exactly how much horror was coursing through her body.  The romper and I are just not meant to be.

Oh, boutiques.  Less soothingly familiar than Target, much more adventuresome.

(And that's even before we got to the antique store that had a two headed mummy)

Wordless(ish) Wednesday

Try and bring home a little Easter sunniness, even though initial instinct is to leave it at the farm because it'll just get ruined if you bring it home and what happens before you've even crossed the Maryland border two weeks after vacuuming the car for the first time in years?

Ode to my gps

As has been documented time and time again, transportation and I aren't the best of friends.

And then the gps was invented and choirs of angels sang.  I don't completely trust my gps and usually still look at a map/print out directions to rely on but it has recently been a stalwart helpmeet and I feel it necessary to sing its praises.

Not only was I able to drive around NJ to the bus station to go up to NYC to see Ally but when 95 was absolute gridlock coming back from Easter dinner, I blindly followed the monotone directions to get off the highway and drive around the winding, dark country Maryland roads in order to make it back before the caffeine wore off and I ended up sleeping on the side of the road while cars inched by.

And since I'm crowing about the magical GPS, am going to give myself a virtual pat on the back since the road back from work was blocked earlier in the week and I was able to pull up the map on my phone and navigate myself back to Tass' house. Thank you, little blue dot! Success is mine!

Festive

I'm pretty anti St. Patrick's Day.  I'm a fan of driving the snakes out but the modern celebration of the day is so not my cup of tea.

Since I've never been drunk (is a control thing, I'm a fan of having a drink as much as the next person) and have general I need people to behave the way society typically expects them to issues, any occasion where people I do not know suddenly come up and start talking to and/or touching me, is an occasion where I just stay home.

So I did, and it was lovely and relaxing.  Got up this morning for mass and grabbed a sweater off the shelf. Ok, I admit, I had worn a tank top to bed and didn't feel like changing so just needed something sort of coordinating to go over.  It was clean!

Anyway, didn't think anything of it, at the end of mass went over to shake the priest's hand and he usually says god bless, have a good week and moves on to the next person.  So I'm half paying attention and getting ready to say you too, father and head out to Target when I realize that he's not saying that to me.  No, he's asking me if I had come straight from a St. Patrick's Day party.  Confused, my mind tried to figure out what he was talking about and then I realized just what I was wearing.

Yep, one day late and completely by accident, I decided to join the celebration.  So I stammered out "No! Is just a coincidence!", and ran off.

Thus. I go out not at all, go to church, and yet I still give off the air of 24 hour partier. Rock on.

It's amazing I find my way to work each day

As has been demonstrated, time and time again, one of my strengths isn't initial directions/logistics. And parking. Can't forget my dread of parking.

But my aunt, one of my favorite people, had a conference in town so she's here from NJ for a few days and we got together for dinner tonight. She told me her hotel and I pulled up a map, consulted Tass, called the hotel for parking confirmation and groaned when I saw how much parking was on the website. I know, I know, Tass told me to find a street spot but haaaaaa.  One thing at a time.

The directions were three turns.  THREE.  Right off of Tass' street, left, right, around the circle and enter the parking garage. This shouldn't be difficult. Surprise, surprise, I make the left, the right, and get to the circle but no parking garage. I spotted a garage for a different hotel a couple blocks prior so I just went around the circle and backtracked. Thank GOD for light traffic. Got my ticket, found a section of empty spots (holy crap, were they narrow, I think I went through 3 spaces just getting into one, gah), parked, breathed a sigh of relief. Called P, started walking, realized I was following the exit sign for the cars and was impeding traffic, turned around since it then occurred to me I should remember how to get back to my car, promptly realized I couldn't find my car.  I hadn't even been walking for 90 SECONDS and I lost my car. Got off the phone, wandered haphazardly, found my car and started searching for identifying landmarks and the people exit. A really embarrassing amount of time later, I was out on the streets of Baltimore, heading towards the hotel. Ignored all my self defense lessons and had my phone map out as I was walking to make sure I was heading the right way, managed to find the hotel.

Had a super fabulous dinner/wandering sessions with my aunt, felt bad about the verbal tsunami she got as I gave her a run down of the last two weeks, but my stories are rather entertaining in person so she had a good time (or so she claims).  Left the restaurant to walk back to the hotel and managed to end up on some baby penninsula and had to wander around again with the phone to get back to the main road. Even P rolled her eyes at me all 'good lord you doof, you're not supposed to look lost with your phone out, how do you find your way to the shower in the morning.' 

Started heading in the right direction and she very nicely accompanied me to my car so I had another person to make sure I could find my way out. Big signs all over the garage about how it was unmanned and credit card only and sure, fine, no problem.  Had my ticket, had my card, pulled up to the machine, no problems.  I must have either been taking awhile or looked stricken because the woman in the booth on the entrance side opened the opposite window to ask if I needed assistance.  Yay for nice people. And yay me since I didn't need help.  P said she'd just walk the last couple of blocks so I let her out at the corner and I drove off.  Realized as I was driving that we were both going in the wrong directions.  I was able to just go around the circle and backtrack (since I walked it, I'll now be able to find it every day going forward) but I called P to tell her to turn around.  My disorientation has become a infectious disease!  It doesn't matter how good you are at going places, 2 hours with me and I'll have you walking off the end of a bridge, all oops where'd the sidewalk go.

Got her turned around, I made it back to Tass' and all is well.

What am I going to do with myself? I really, really cannot be lost everywhere and wandering looking lost with my phone out. Especially at night and when I'm by myself. Not to mention that I was parked for less than 3 hours and it cost $14. Totally worth it for dinner with P but not something I can afford to do on a regular basis.

Why can't science just figure out teleportation already?

Mmmm, lemony

When I first got to Bmore, Tass asked if I wanted to go see the Lemonheads with her. Now, I was passingly familiar with the Lemonheads thanks to their cover of Mrs. Robinson but it was really thanks to Holly's effusive odes to Evan Dando that I really had any sort of knowledge regarding their music.

The show was last night and oh my, was the people watching hilarious. The median age of the crowd had to have been 35+ and aside from Tass and her guy, it was past all of our bedtimes.  Oh, the yawning. Including me, I freely admit. The first band went on a little after 9 and according to Tass, they were awful (I thought they were perfectly fine.  Ah, when utils collide.) Then there were a couple of other acts, one guy who was excellent and one girl and her band. The girl did a couple of songs solo before joining the group and oh, the emo. They would have been right at home in an episode of Buffy, where she's making moon eyes over Angel while at the Bronze.  Of course this only added to the yawning. 

Random, sort of economics sidebar.  I don't understand why the main act goes on at the end of the night. You pay for your ticket, opening acts included but by the time the main act goes on, people are tired, my backs hurt, shoes are starting to be painful (I totally wore flats with socks and did not care at all), level of drunkeness is rising and attention is waning. I'd think the acts would want to get people when the energy and excitement is at its peak. And I imagine some get excited with the anticipation and being in the crowd but...not me.

Anyway, Buffy girl (who was wearing lace leggings as pants) goes off and at 11:30, the Lemonheads came onstage.  2 hours past my bedtime! But unlike the woman I saw at one of the upper level tables with her eyes closed sleeping, I stifled the yawns and got into the show.  And they did a great job. Really good sound, fun set, two thumbs up. Although. Mr. Dando does not seem to be into the audience interaction part of performing. In fact, there were several eye rolls. Not that the crowd cared. (Though people were pissed when they didn't sing Mrs. Robinson)

But the show was fun, the night was enjoyable, and thanks to the time change, we ended up eating french fries at 3am.

Take that 5am weekday wakeup, you will not rule my life!

Is completely besides the point that I'm typing this in bed now, at 3:30, gearing up for dinner tonight with my aunt.  (I have to drive places! Aaaaagh.)

Train Tales

Because nothings as fun as adventures in transit, right?

Last Monday, while nervously looking out the window and trying to stay awake, I registered the train pulling into one of the stops before Union Station and had started drifting back into my brain when all of a sudden I felt a sharp jabbing pain.  The guy behind had given me some sort of elbow karate chop while getting his bag down.  Very apologetic, so sorry and the like and off he went. I got busy and distracted with orientation activities but as the day went on, the pain went from dull ache to throbbing pain. Because I get the world's most ridiculous head injuries? Yes, yes I do.

That night, heading back to Bmore, I sat down next to a guy and noticed his ticket said the same station I get off at.  Always reassuring as I'm still twitchy about missing my stop because I'm in the wrong car. I asked the conductor anyway because that's how I work and she said nope, this car does not stop at that station.  As I looked at her bug eyed, she said the cars at the back of the train open.  I guess leaving Union Station is considered the train going the "right" way so the front is the front and back is the back, unlike heading south when the part of the train that gets into Union Station first is actually the back of the train (why with the differences, mass transit? Whyyyyyy).  ANYWAY. I know I at least have a bit of time before we get to the station to make my way through the cars so I sit and stew for awhile.  And this whole time, seat neighbor has been fast asleep. We get closer to the train and I start gathering my things to make my move through the cars.  And, conundrum.  Do I wake up sleeping seat mate and tell him this car won't open at the stop? Decided I had to because if the situation was reversed, I'd want some kind soul to wake me and not leave me drooling all the way to the end of the line. I try to wake him but a gentle nudge isn't doing it. Get more and more direct before finally giving a full on shoulder shake and poor startled seat mate finally opens his eyes and I say my piece and he very slowly - and carefully, so as not to startle the crazy person - thanks me and closes his eyes to go back to sleep. Fine. Don't heed my advice, train man! Ignore the crazy woman wandering the cars!

One day, so much ridiculous.

 

A tale of two cheeses

On Saturday, Tass took me out for a welcome to Baltimore dinner. We had a delightful time but one of the highlights was the cheese plate.

So good. And the berry/molasses sauce? I must figure out how to recreate (not that my new schedule allows for any more energy at night aside from microwaving).

And then, the universe just had to bang it home just how much my life does not consist of dinners that begin with cheese plates so this was my lunch on my first day:

I didn't know if there was a microwave, if I was going to go out, if there was a fridge, etc so I grabbed things that didn't need to be refrigerated. And, thanks to various form craziness, this ended up being enough for my lunch for today too.

Moral of the story - everything is better with cheese.

Lesson learned, universe. Lesson learned.

Stupid + Head

Yet another chapter in the many ways in which I am a stupidhead.

On the train into DC yesterday, I was sleepy, nervous, sleepy, confused, sleepy, and just a bit sleepy.

I don't know how so many of you get up this early, 5am is not morning. Or if it is, it should make the day end at 3pm because it's 9:09 and I'm fighting to keep my eyes open.  My thrilling life.

ANYWAY. My point.

So I'm sleepy on the train, counting down the stops, when the guy in the row behind me got up to leave. And jammed his elbow in my head as he was getting his bag down.

Ow. He was very apologetic, no big deal, it happens.

And by 2pm, my head was throbbing.  Nothing says first day excitement like a concussion!

(Seriously, I get the most random head injuries. Come on now.)

(At least it wasn't the worst way my first day could make itself memorable.)

Bizarre

Its bizarre in and of itself that Im writing this on my iPad sitting in the middle of the mall with the Capitol on my left and the wash monument on my right on a gorgeous sunny day. The move went fine, I suppose. So much less than I needed to fit in the car actually fit in the car, saying goodbye to puppy wrenched my lungs out of my body but I expected that. Arrived in bmore, got unloaded, saw my train tickets were missing, flopped into the couch, pulled it together and ran some errands. Got back from the grocery store around 9pm, unloaded, dad had the keys, I thought he locked it, he thought he did but we came out 20 min later to drive the station route and I opened the door and saw all the papers from my glove compartment piled neatly on the drivers seat. The box door had been wedged so I figured dad did it but then he looked confused and it took our (in defense, exhausted) brains awhile to process that neither one of us had done it. Can it really be considered a break in if the car was unlocked? Funny enough, I don't think anything was taken. My ezpass was still there, same with sunglasses, CDs, and car charger. A very polite vagabond? Welcome to the neighborhood hazing? Likely someone just looking for money for drugs and trying to move quickly but eesh. I can't even get 12 hours to try to feel comfortable in the big, bad world? What made me feel better was I was relaying the situation to my aunt because come on now, that's pretty ridiculous and she said the same thing happened to her car while it was sitting in her driveway. And she lives in a pretty affluent suburb. So it's not just me in my new neighborhood. Organized (ha, because they shuffled my papers) crime, indeed.