Dear fellow LiL’ers,
In case you hadn’t noticed recently, I have been a giant, obnoxious FLAKE about posting. After profuse apologies to my fellow [dedicated, regular, amazing] posters, I swore to reform. Although March is pretty much null and void at this point, I figured I would do a bit of a review of some labels that have come my way this month. Some of them, I’ve hated realizing (e.g. Flake)… others have surprised me, and still more have challenged me. So without further ado, A Month in the Life of a Labeler: March 2012.
1. Quitter: this past month, I was a quitter. I quit knitting, I quit mentoring, I quit shaving my legs (TMI?). In all seriousness, I HATE having to quit something. It makes me feel disappointed in myself, and I feel as though I have let others down. After wallowing in a bit of failing-at-life self-pity, I picked myself up, bought a razor, and moved on.*
2. Wannabe Vegan: inspired by Denise’s not-quitting self, I have been embracing her vegan ways selectively over the past few months. Obviously, I’m much more willing to help with Trader Joe’s and dark chocolate are involved. Although I’ll never be able to give up yogurt or cheese or froyo (God bless you and your will power, Denise), I have enjoyed trying new dishes with Denise, and learning to shop for vegan meals has made me more aware in general of reading ingredient labels on food. This also resulted in me swearing off all flavored coffee creamers halfway through the month (but really, folks, this stuff DOESN’T EVEN HAVE MILK IN IT.) So thank you, Denise, for teaching me that nutrition is far more than calories!**
3. In a funk: earlier in March, Denise and I found ourselves in a used book/mixed media store with my sister. After a glorious foray into the old Disney VHS section (hello, Pollyanna and the original Parent Trap! The Rescuers, you have returned to me! And how have I never seen Mighty Ducks??), we browsed the grown-up movie section, at which point I picked up The Hours and Sylvia within about 60 seconds.
Sister: “Hello, suicide movies.”
Denise: “Meryl Streep!”
Me: “But Pollyanna is upbeat!”
At which point I was reminded (spoiler alert!) that it ends with her falling from a tree and paralyzing herself from the waist down.
Oh, it was a funk indeed. My Redbox renting history and that trip to the bookstore are hard evidence. So are the six (six!) bags of jelly beans that made their way into my apartment recently. After one too many Sylvia-inspired quotes on my tumblr, a friend asked me when I was planning to stick my OWN head in an oven. The grandmother-sweater phase of the winter extended through the unseasonably warm (read: 80-degree) weather we had recently. It was the funkiest of funks, but thankfully I had another label up my sleeve…
4. Runner: I’ve been running/going to the gym regularly since I graduated (in retribution for years of abuse to my liver and otherwise), but with mild weather recently, my runner label has grown quite a bit stronger, and served as a pick-me-up and stress-release at the end of many days. Perhaps it’s the change of scenery with my new job – my run now circles the memorials and the Mall, and gives me a chance to “check up” on our construction site for the Museum on almost a daily basis.
SO EXCITING!
Perhaps it was the unending funk of being trapped in my own thoughts. But running finally gave me the release that I needed from everything else that I had going on. The endorphins obviously weren’t too bad either. And that’s how I learned that the “rush” all those intense runners laud about is ACTUALLY real, and it can do wonders for a person when you need it the most.
running around Burke Lake
5. Smiley: this is my silliest and sappiest label of the month, but it was a much-needed contrast after all the dark-and-twisty funk I just threw out there. As a result of the insane endorphins, I found myself smiling more than usual as I trotted around the city. At first, I thought I just looked upbeat.
“Hey world! I’m moving around! I’m getting shit done! I have on hot pink underarmour!”
Then I noticed tourists (see #6) were staring more than usual. And I realized I was running around grinning like a freak Cheshire cat unleashed on the district.
{Apparently I am incredibly sensitive to endorphins.}
But the alternative was furrowing my brow and causing early aging on my porcelain skin, so I figured I’d just keep being a loon and see the worst that could happen. Then I tried smiling on the metro last week. As Denise has explained, the metro is a very special social experiment of shared suffering and hatred. And while the smile-theory quickly died, I found that other facial expressions of shared misery were welcomed with OPEN ARMS. Stuck on the metro after the circus finishes in Chinatown, smelling the residual stench of elephant on small children waving laser-light toys? Roll your eyes at Mr. 30-Something next to you for a guaranteed self-pity smile in return! Metro delays multiplying your commute length threefold? Give your best Courtney-face-scrunch to the woman next to you with two bags of groceries. Boom. Facial expressions… who knew?***
how 'bout that stinkeye?
6. Tourist Hater: How quickly the cherry blossoms come and go. If only, if only the tourists were the same. Although it is beyond stereotypical to hate on tourists in DC, I can’t help myself. Remember that Cheshire cat grin? Well, the only thing that could kill it was when tourists blocked the path around the tidal basin and practically shoved me into the toxic waters of the Potomac (but really, guys – remember the snakehead fish??). This is not an exaggeration. Other faults include: standing on the left on metro escalators, asking me where the closest Starbucks is (response: “Walk one block in any direction. You will find one, I promise.”), not understanding walk signs, taking artsy pictures in the cherry blossoms, traveling in packs of 20+, wearing I ♥DC/FBI/CIA/flag t-shirts, using segways, driving, parking, walking, standing, biking, breathing, and generally reminding me why America is doomed.
no. just... no.
money shot.
7. Wine-o: the best way to remedy hatred over tourists, work, and life in general is through alcohol. What better way to ease your anger, than by adding a mood-altering substance? Just ask our founding fathers. My soft spots for bourbon and wine have been exercised regularly, with the occasional Margarita Monday, but my affinity for quieter, more subdued environments like wine bars has grown exponentially over the past month. Although I consider myself nothing close to a connoisseur, I can definitely throw around words like bouquet, oaky, and quick finish. As an added bonus, my favorite wine bar has a bakery attached. Wine and chocolate chip cookies for dinner? I’m sorry, did you just say dinner of CHAMPIONS?
home away from home. yes, please.
8. Still Crafty: My crafting ways have become so well-known and extensive that I have now been recruited by multiple people to help with their own projects. I have also learned some fancy braids, made bacon cupcakes (this is more of a baking craft, yes), learned to splice together videos on my phone (more about that next week!), and been tapped by multiple sources for my knowledge of cursive handwriting, or as I like to call it: the lost art of America. However, I have still rejected the notion of getting a Pinterest.
testing out my skillz.
bacon cupcake. trust me, I was confused too.
9. Iron deficient: yesterday a friend asked me how often I ate meat. I responded that I got my protein through greek yogurt and eggs. I was swiftly met with an iron supplement multivitamin pill. If March was for iron deficiency, April will be my own personal Iron Age.
10. Grocery Connoisseur: while still living with my parents last year, I developed a sort of love affair with the grocery store. Creating new menus, trying different produce, the free samples (!!!), dozens of perfectly-lined rows of products (a type-A’s personal paradise)… grocery stores were my new Mecca. Since then, I have taken it upon myself to freakishly research different products at each grocery chain (and different locations of certain chains) in the area for the best quality and price. {Insert insane freak commentary here} Most of this has been contained in my ongoing mental list
- Trader Joe’s: reduced-sodium boxed soups, chocolate-covered craisins and bags of honey crisp apples
- Whole Foods: single apples, frozen veggies and bagged salad
- Wegman’s: jelly beans and greek yogurt, but never buy off-brand because of artificial additives (again, props to Denise on food labels!)
- Desserts: buy straight-up containers of frosting at Harris Teeter, but fresh cookies from the Whole Foods in Old Town and Clarendon (but never Foggy Bottom!)
not all cookies are created equal!
- Cereal: buy at CVS with black market coupons
…. I could go on, but I feel like I’ve already convinced you of my personal insanity (even though I guarantee all you DC folks are totally going to pay attention to cookie quality by Whole Foods location now). The point is: grocery shopping is an art, and I like to think that my kitchen is the flipping Hirshhorn.
So that’s it – a month in my life, condensed to a handful of labels. It seems pretty simple in retrospect… and hopefully, I’ll remember that in the upcoming weeks as I post more regularly about what I’m up to. And with that, happy weekending! I’ll be exercising my labels of Runner, Babysitter, Wine-O (duhh), and Appreciator of Brunch.
Oh, also: best part of March? Being a granddaughter - Happy 82nd birthday to the coolest Grammy!
good gosh, I love her!
*this may have also been a result of this incident at the gym.
**I know, it is sad that it took me 24 years to learn this lesson.
*** Everyone else knew; this is just like my inability to read food packaging.
