Neighborhood Watch

Over the weekend, I witness petty theft from my front porch. I watch a guy break into a car and grab a black bag from the front seat. I stood up and watched him. I let him see me and yelled, "You better start running, because I'm calling the cops. Good luck." I called 911 and reported the crime. The female operator seemed as confused as I felt incredulous by witness the brazen act.

About 5-10 minutes later, the cops showed up. They seemed less than enthusiastic about answering my call. I told them to keep an eye out on my house since the burglar might decide to come back to bother me. They gave me some bull about not being able to watch my house. That's fine; just watch my neighborhood so that random acts like that don't happen on what should have been a lazy day of sitting on my front porch.

Several hours later, the owner of the car showed up. It turns out that nothing of value was in the black bag that was stolen. Most troubling for me is that he refused to call the cops. If nothing else, his insurance company would need a police report before paying for a new window. He spoke in broken English with a very heavy accent. So maybe he was afraid of interacting with the police (no insurance, no green card, the car is stolen, etc). Who knows.

I've decided to sit on the front porch every evening to keep an eye on my neighborhood. I want those bastard thieves, murderers, rapists, and other hoodlums to know that I'm watching them and I don't have a problem calling the police if things get out of hand.

Now that I've scanned the DC police department crime statistic map, my guard will be up even more than before. Sure, the hoodlums can have the $10 in my wallet but they won't be harming me or my friends without a fight. Next up, self defense class and I've even starting to think about the benefits of a gun. [gasp!] I never thought I would ever think about the value of a gun but I'm a treehugging hippie who is pissed and itching to take back her street and her 'hood.

Happy Recess!

I think I earned this recess. This week, this month has been out of control. I've been swamped at work and in my personal life.

I hope to spend my weekend reading (I will finally and begrudgingly pay my $30 library fine…) and finalizing the front porch. I decided against planting an herb garden as I fear what the street cats will do to it. So I'm thinking marigolds or impatients—though I'd love to plant something fragrant (that's why basil was the plan).

I'm really looking forward to going to a Nationals Game on Saturday. I don't really like baseball but I love going to stadiums. I like the atmosphere, the wave (!), and all the people-watching opportunities. I hope it doesn't rain and that the Nat's win.

So, here's to a deserved recess.

Gray Cat

I have decided to accept the alley cats that frequent my house, especially gray cat. S/He used to scare me. I'd open the door in the morning and there he'd be staring at me, waiting for food and interaction. I'd come home from work to the same thing. The whole front porch staked-out used to freak me out but now I love it. I look forward to it. I no longer mind if gray cat rubs himself against my leg in the morning, shedding his fur all over my black dress slacks. It's endearing.

I can seek why single women become cat ladies. Cats are independent spirits that can be loving without being needy.

I guess a single girl like me can and should use gray cat as inspiration. To a lesser extent, I, too, should start - freely and without shame - "roaming the block" for love and nourishment. It just might lead to a permanent connection.

Taped Glasses

I feel like such a nerd today. I stepped on my glasses last night and despite all my attempts to bend/rescrew the left arm back into place, the frame's arm just won't return to normal.

I dug up an old pair that are still stylish and functional as back up but I am determined to wear my updated pair, lest the weaker prescription lead to eye strain.

This morning, I applied some clear packing tape to the left arm. It worked, sort of. So I applied some more. Now, I have a wad of clear tape on my glasses that I can't seem to take off without totally destroying whatever connection is barely keeping the frame arm attached.

Of course, I'm thankful that I didn't break the lens or crack the frame in half, but I feel so stupid walking around with tape on my glasses. I would place it under the "not attractive to boys" category.

A Birthday and A Move

Moving Sucks
I successfully moved my junk into my new space over the weekend. Everything fit—though I do have a far amount of things stacked in the living room that may never find a home.

The move was pretty painless. Unlike this summer, my movers showed up when promised and it took no longer than 2 hours to complete. Nothing broke and no one was injured. Perhaps, next time I will be frugal and move myself, but there is just so much more piece of mind when you are organized and you hire professional movers. Please pray that I don’t move again for at least 2 years—enough time to save for a down payment on a house.

I like my new space. I’m still getting used to the weird shape of my room, the window A/C unit and the cat that is always sitting on the porch, staring at me, when I leave and return each day. I love cats, but he freaks me out. My roommates informed me that there are at least three cats that frequent our stoop, since we usually put out food and water.

This weekend, I hope to tackle most of my boxes. I’ve been sick most of this week with a horrible cold. No, I don’t think that it is H1N1, but it has prevented me from doing anything but blowing my nose and sleeping during the past few evenings. I blame it on the all the stress I experienced over last week due to my move and my birthday party.

28 is Great!
My birthday party was awesome. I was pleased that so many of my friends showed up, though I was missing my grad school trio. I look forward to getting friends together again for a bar crawl this summer. Good times.

My crush didn’t show. He gave me some lame excuse on Monday, but I’m so over him. My friend warned me that he is seriously enjoying his "fresh meat" status on the Hill, and I don’t blame him for wanting to take advantage of all the girls who are trying to catch him. As A-M said, he’s just not that into me and I’d said the same thing, I’m just not that into him. I don’t care enough to be one of those silly girls chasing him. I’m too old for that and I feel that he should be coming to me instead.

So now, I wait to develop a crush on someone new. I’ll keep you posted on who the lucky guy is and how successful is my game.

White House Tour

What an amazing treat on the eve of my birthday. Today, I had the opportunity to take a White House tour. I totally lucked out on an extra ticket and I plan to get an thank card to the person who made it possible asap.

It was surreal to see the West Wing. Unfortunately, we weren't able to see the residence but we saw the blue room, the green room, navy mess, press room, oval office, rose garden, etc. It was truly awesome. I was both overwhelmed and underwhelmed by the tour. I was overwhelmed by the furniture, portraits, artifacts and the slight views I could catch of the Washington Monument and Jefferson Memorial. I was underwhelmed by the size of some of the rooms (TV cameras can be so deceiving!) and the fact that it felt like a normal office space. I know that I'm not making sense. The bottom line is that it was an amazing experience and I can only hope to visit the WH again for another tour, a VIP meeting, or, perhaps one day, for my first day on the job.

Single

Yesterday, I called Floyd. I guess I was feeling guilty about my musings to half-heartedly pursue CuBu, my campaign trail crush.

He assured me that we are officially, undeniably just friends now. Not the “just friends” we’ve been during the past two years---not a couple but going on 2-week long road trips and romantic Miami getaways. But “just friends” who are past lovers seeking to establish themselves as separate, single beings.

I’m so happy that he also wants to stay close friends. We both know that will take time, but I don’t know of anyone who knows me as completely and can make me laugh as easily as Floyd.

It is the end of an era. I’ve known Floyd for almost 9 years and beyond the Mr. Rebound foray, I have been emotionally, spiritually, and psychologically attached to him since I was 19. Now, I enter my 28th year as a single girl and I am scared.

I am scared of guys, of rejection, of heartbreak, of broken promises, and of becoming a bitter old lady who regrets this choice. So, I will take it very slow. If all else fails, I’ll just focus on climbing the career ladder and leave love to another day. I just hope that I don’t wait too long.

Struck Out

Tonight, I had several people cheering for me, coaching me, pushing me along. But despite their well-wishes and advice, I struck out.

I don't have game. I'm sure my readers are tired of my constant whining about this but I don't know how I will ever find a mate if I always revert to a pre-teen girl around guys I like.

I ran out of things to say, allowed him to be drawn away by others, didn't close the deal with future plans. Mostly, I allowed myself to be discouraged by the gaggle of girls that always seemed to be near him. I guess as a new guy on the Hill, he's bound to be fresh meat. But to me he's more. He's the crush that just won't go away. I guess that means I need to get out more cause I know that DC has many other cuties for me to meet and fall for. But I just can't shake him or figure out how to snag him.

Moving Sucks

Over the weekend, I moved some of my things into my new place—mainly my plants, clothes and smaller items. I made a few trips with my trusty shopping cart on Saturday, but relied on A-M, G.F.A., and Shimmy-Shimmy to make three trips with a fully loaded car on Sunday. Although I still wish I had a boyfriend to take care of everything for me, nothing beats true friends—those willing to move heavy boxes, tall plants, and endless trash bags full of pillows in the rain. Thank you!

I can’t wait to be moved-in my new place. I am so excited to share a house with only two girls. The noise level and untidiness factor will be nothing compared to now. I admit that I will miss all the windows in my bedroom, my large closet, and the southside of CoHe. But I am excited to get to know northern CoHe and my new roommates. Most of all, I can’t wait to sit on the front porch with lemonade and a book or to start an herb garden in the back yard.

With A.M.’s encouragement, I decided to not sell any of my common room furniture. I don’t know if my futon and all my other crap will fit in my new space, but I am going to try. I don’t really want to deal with posting and fielding responses to a Craigslist ad this week. It is time-consuming and I don’t like the idea of meeting up with a potentially crazy person. Plus, when the time comes for me to move into a place of my own, I will have random furnishings to fill the extra space.

So, I have another week to finish packing before the movers arrive on Sunday. Let’s hope that they arrive on time and ready to work hard. Lucky for them, I’ve already taken care of the annoying, little things that take so much time. They can just focus on about a dozen boxes and of course, the furniture.

Urgh!

Almost every young Hill staffer has the fear of being overheard divulging office secrets in the elevator or of being caught in the middle of a Member photo-op. For that reason, I always try to avoid Members, VIPs, and camera crews like the plague, and I am always tight-lipped around folks.

Last week, cameras were swarming the halls and I was unlucky enough to be caught in a published picture next to a few Members. It is a bad picture and I look obviously uncomfortable. I can clearly remember trying to scurry away from the scene, but was blocked by a gaggle of chatting Members. The look on my face is obviously that of distress--last week was nothing but stressful.

For the record, I officially hate my profile now.

Another Move

What an intense week. Work was out of control and I've been stressing out about my housing situation. I decided to go for a smaller shared house in Columbia Heights after much pressure (from myself) to get a new place. I'll be sharing a 3BR/2BA house with two girls. They seem very nice and most importantly, seem to be at a similar place in their lives as me. That means no reliving college and the ability to clean-up after themselves. I hope that I haven't made a rash decision but I have been itching to move out of where I live for months.

So the race is on to pack my stuff and organize movers. I hate to pay $300 to move basic furniture .5 miles down the street but I don't want the hassle of driving a U-haul truck. This is the one occasion (besides VDay) when I wish I had a boyfriend or at least a few, buff male friends who owe me favors. Thankfully, a few gal pals agreed to help, and I'm thinking that we'll manage. Of course, this is all scheduled during a crazy-busy legislative period, but I think that if I devote a few hours every day during the next two weekends to packing, I should be all ready for the moving men on May 10.

Fine Lines

I see them.

A few around my eyes and a growing collection on my forehead. They say that "black don't crack" but I am seeing evidence of major, future wrinkles.

Since I turn 28 in a few weeks, I guess it is okay for me to start using wrinkle creams but I don't know if I will ever opt for Botox, skin rejuvenation, a face lift, or whatever else will be on the market when I hit 40.

I like to think that I am a low-maintenance, natural woman who embraces her imperfections, but the impact of aging on a woman's body is too much for me. I don't want saggy boobs, a flabby neck, a hunchback, frown lines, or sunspotted skin. But I know that it is on the way and there is little that I can do.

I don't want to be the weird lady who has clearly had work done--who can't smile or whose hands/neck/belly belies her plumped, radiant face. I want to love my wrinkles and see them as beautiful signs of maturity. But I don't know how to get out of our society’s youth-obsessed mentality so that I can embrace and love my aging/decaying body.

Birthday Party Planning

I want to do something different for my birthday this year. Right now, I’m thinking about a picnic on the Mall or a Ledo’s pizza party.

Picnic on the Mall
I love picnics and I love the Mall. That’s why it would be perfect to spend a warm spring day under the shade of the trees in front of the National Gallery. I’d ask friends to bring fruit, veggies, hummus, sandwiches, salad, etc to leisurely eat while sipping on contraband wine. We could play Frisbee, fly kites, or throw around a random beach ball. It would be very low-keyed and focused mostly on celebrating the warm weather. The main problems would be transporting everything to the Mall, the fact that pollen isn't my friend, and the threat of spring showers.

Ledo’s Pizza Party
I love Ledo’s, and I think it woud be the perfect location for an old-fashioned pizza party, with hats, horns, goody bags, and ice cream cake. It would bring out the kid in all of us and give me an excuse to pig out on pizza and beer. The ultimate party would be to bring a few Ledo's pizza pies and a cake into Rocket Bar. Although the place isn’t great for chatting (too loud), we could easily spend hours playing all the board games and other games offered. The only problem is that I don't know if the Ledo's Chinatown location will be open in time.

So those are my option. I still have time to figure out the logistics, and most importantly, which option would be best for bring together my different groups of friends.

Missed Connection

Two blog entries in one day are a big no-no for Hippo Q., but...

OMG. I sat next to the dreamiest guy on the plane. He started talking to me as soon as I sat down. At first, I was antisocial, favoring to do some reading for work (will I ever catch-up?!). But when I was done, we started chatting again. Mainly about work and DC.

He's a military officer/lawyer and in town for only a few days, which means that he would be good for a short fling. A ONS isn't my style, but I would give anything to makeout with him. He was just so tall, tan, and strong with perfectly kissable lips.

No, I didn't ask for his number. Not when we were getting off the plane or when I said goodbye to him again near baggage claim. I am such an inexperienced flirt, relegated to relieving such exchanges over the blogosphere.

Any normal woman would have closed the deal. But I feared rejection and didn't know how to say, "hey sweetcakes, I'll give you a tour of the city you will never forget" without sounding cheesy.

So unfair. Why can't I get over my wallflower, traditional approach to guys? I fear that my lack of game will result in me becoming a crazy catlady that no one visits.

So here is my game plan. I'm going to try my luck with an ad on Craiglist and in the City Paper. Then, I'm going to burn in my memory this experience so that when the next Mr. Right(now) is presented to me, I won't fuck it all up.

Airport Musings

After a few days in Atlanta, I am ready to return to my reality. It was a nice trip home. Although I didn't get to see my grandmother, I did see my niece (so tiny and squishy!) and I spent some quality time with my mom. I always get restless at home. The suburbs are so quiet and calm and I don't have easy, walkable access to stores for browsing or parks for people watching. I honestly can't see myself living in ATL for a long while. I like the energy of DC too much. But the real deal breaker is that I refuse to be reliant on a car to get to work, run errands or visit friends and family. ATL is definitely a car dominated city, and that's uncool.

I won't miss the pollen that has made my eyes burn, my nose run and my skin itchy. But I will miss having a backyard. I planted marigold seeds and impatients for my mother, and it was really nice to get my hands dirty in GA red clay.