January 13th, 2011

Washington Dulles Airport, Terminal B
January 13th, 2011

I never intended to have this become my one photo snapped on this date, but it kind of turned out that way. Technically I snapped a photo of the cot in our hotel room, but it came out poorly. The cot was there because the hotel had run out of rooms and left us in a room with a stunning 2-wall window view, but with one bed. I took the cot, since I'm nice like that, and too exhausted after traveling all day to care. We swapped out the next morning, but retained the beautiful view!

This actual photo was taken at Washington Dulles airport. We had two ours to spare between flights. I took a hard spill coming out of the plane on the slippery rubber mat just as you step down. My hands were on my luggage, so I had no way to catch my fall. I ended up with some bruised knees, but that's about it. No additional injuries to my already iffy joints.

So anyway, we sat at the gate for the second hour, talking about what women want. It was pretty funny. For example, why would a woman show lots of interest, then when you reciprocate and take it as an indication that she wants to be more serious, suddenly drop you like a hot potato for moving too fast? And how do you return to being just friends again? I'm can't say that offered the best advice, but he got heaping spoonful of cynic's wisdom.

Amidst all this, I felt like I should really snap a photograph of something. That something turned out to be the beautiful geometric lines of the terminal ceiling.

January 12th, 2011

Blizzard
January 12th, 2011

The blizzard arrived. I chose not to leave my home. I spent the day thoroughly cleaning the house, reorganizing my closet, folding laundry and doing dishes. It's amazing how easily cleaning can fill your entire day. It was beautiful. I left the next morning with a spotless, clutter-free apartment to return home to the next week.

January 11th, 2011

Canceled flights due to blizzard
January 11th, 2011

My flight to California was canceled the day before I was scheduled to take off. It was automatically rescheduled for a flight the following day through Dulles instead of JFK.

Now my flight through JFK, rather than a direct flight to Long Beach, was a direct result of my love for Terminal 5. I try to go through it at least once per year in order to stop in at Muji and buy deliciously clean, white Japanese writing paper. There are only a few Muji locations in the United States, all in NYC and all within a half mile radius of each other. Soho, Times Square, Chelsea, MoMa and the airport. Given my aversion to going to NYC, you can see how JFK is my only real access to the store. The rest of the chain thrives throughout Europe and Asia - but just not in the US. And they have no stateside online store to order from either.

As a result of the blizzard, I ended up at Dulles instead - which has nothing in Terminal B to recommend it, except perhaps Chipotle for a smelly burrito-shop lunch.

January 10th, 2011

Book of Mormon
January 10th, 2011

After work I made the trek out to Target in order to get some stockings and comfortable flats. It was something of a miracle, but just as I was about to leave, suddenly a pair of my old favorite wool-lined ballet flats appeared on the shelf. I had gone through that shoe section about two dozens times looking for the right size, without any luck. I was about to settle on a pair of suspiciously not-quite-comfortable flats that probably would have left me with vicious blisters, when the right size appeared out of no where.

I picked up a wide variety of tights to go under my dresses along with a pair of grown-up stockings. All of this in preparation for my trip to the conference. I chose to bring all dresses this year as opposed to pant-suits and so I assumed that I would end up uncomfortably cold and wishing I'd worn tights. I couldn't have predicted it would be in the 80s and absolutely beautiful.

After my shopping trip, I stood out on the corner to catch the bus back into the city. While I stood shivering in the cold, chewing on a string cheese in order to temper my hunger due to a missed dinner, two matching young men passed by with name tags. Mormon missionaries! Apparently I looked like a receptive audience, nibbling on my string cheese in the bitter cold, since the tall, good looking blonde one suddenly reversed directions and trekked back to talk to me.

I told him I'd spoken with missionaries before and I had LDS friends, but that I was neither religious nor had I read the Bible. He gave me his talk, produced my very own copy of the BoM and asked if I'd like someone to come by to talk to me. Girls, of course. There were two very nice girls who would love to talk to me, so I didn't have to invite boys into my home. Yes, he used terms "boys" and "girls" as opposed to women or men. His partner was, in fact, a boy. Pimple-faced and barely out of the school room, he didn't say a single word the entire encounter. He seemed shy and overshadowed by his golden boy companion.

Around this time, a girl whom I would have guessed to be drunk had she not been coming from Target, stumbled up. She immediately broke into the conversation by loudly asking if I was waiting for a bus? Yes. Did I know if one was coming? I assumed so. But did I look at the schedule and know when? No. Apparently that answer was unsatisfactory. Clearly she places too much faith in the bus schedule. Even if a bus were supposed to be showing up, the chance that it would is fairly slim in Somerville. She walked erratically away.

The missionary and I exchanged an amused look, then broke out laughing. He started to talk to me again about what a comfort reading the BoM was for him. Then the girl shouted at us once more. Did we have a light? The missionary smiled and said "No, I'm Mormon. I don't smoke." She shrugged and trudged off into the night towards Cambridge.

We concluded our conversation quickly after that and he gave me the numbers of the "girl" missionaries. He and his companion continued on their way - the younger one energetically jumping over a snowbank, happy to no longer be standing in the bitter cold talking to a stranger about God.

January 9th, 2011

Masquerade
January 9th, 2011

I spent a large chunk of my weekend organizing all of my magazine-clipped recipes. It all began when I removed the ornaments from my tree and had to find space in the closet to store all of my Christmas decor.

I pulled down a big tub of random stuff from the top shelf of my closet and began to sort through to throw out anything not absolutely vital to my existance. In doing so, I came across this mask. It's a beautiful mask. In fact, it's like like $150 beautiful. Yeah, why do I own such a ridiculously expensive mask? Poor decision making.

A number of years ago, my best friend and I decided to attend a masquerade at a local club. We were really into theme nights, so when the opportunity came up to participate in a masked event, we were there. We went to Boston Costume in Chinatown to find sexy masks and wigs. Nothing was quite satisfactory enough for me, except the really lovely ones behind the counter. I knew that the chance I'd ever wear it again was slim to none, but I couldn't say no to the hand-crafted, glittery, gradient airbrushed mask. So I didn't.

I bought a super curly, purple wig that stood a half foot off the top of my head. I should have been dancing around the court of Marie Antoinette, not heading into a fetish masquerade at TT the Bear's.

Out of sheer guilt and continued fascination with the mask, I still have it, sitting carefully wrapped and boxed in my closet, just waiting for the day when it's called back to action.

January 6th, 2011

January 6th, 2011

Snapdragons by the stove. I try to keep fresh flowers in both my kitchen and bathroom. In a surprising find, I found snapdragons at Whole Foods for a rocking $4/bundle. The best pricetag I've seen all year on the beautiful, colorful flowers.

While it can't be seen from this image, the colors shift from a rich golden yellow to orange, red and lastly a deep pink at the very top. The blossom looked almost ripe and bursting with color, as if you could squeeze them and they'd burst.

January 5th, 2011

January 5th, 2011

It took me approximately 9 months to get my laptop fixed. Overheating at the drop of a hat, I would prop a box fan off to the side of my laptop when I intended to watch a movie or open more than a couple of applications at once. I risked burning my fingertips on the keyboard night after endless night.

I had originally called to have the laptop fixed in August, but a series of missed phonecalls (and no voice messages) over the Labor Day weekend, when I was trapped in signal-less NH, had squashed any hope of getting a technician out. It took me another 4 months before I built up the courage to call Dell technical support and navigate the endless transfers and dropped calls.

January 5th was the afternoon that my fan finally was replaced. A middle-aged Columbian technician named Luis came to my office at work for on-site service. He discussed how he was an acupuncturist back home, but when he made the move to Boston, he could no longer practice since they require a masters degree and state certification. Thus for the last two years, since a masters degree was financially unattainable as an recent immigrant, he had been working as a hardware technician.

His visit was incredibly pleasant and uplifting. He encouraged me to pursue my own dreams and walked me through each step of the fan replacement - teaching me how to fix it myself in the future. In the end, he left the super-dusty, clogged up old fan for me as opposed to throwing it away. So I snapped a photo to remember his visit!