Just when I thought that I was out they pull me back in...

I've come to develop a love/hate relationship with the city of Washington D.C. over the last few years. When I started my job at the Senate, I loved Washington. I loved getting off the train at Union Station and seeing the dome of the Capital building as I made my way over to work. I was so excited about it that on any given day, you could see me happily bouncing to the Hart building in my suit and sneakers, Lean Cuisine in a plastic grocery bag in hand. I loved the streets, even though I couldn't really navigate them and I loved the National Mall, even though I got lost on it and I loved the Metro, even though it smelled and I had to deal with loud teenagers on my way home. I loved all the distinct neighborhoods and how they each had their own flavor. D.C. screamed power and prestige to me. We were a city of movers and shakers - Supreme Court judges, Senators, Presidents, heads of think tanks, lawyers and lobbyists.

But, recently, I had started to hate the city. The Capitol dome I once admired brought to mind greedy, corrupt politicians. The nice restaurants were full of pretentious food and wine snobs. 18th Street in Adams Morgan was riddled with drunken twenty-somethings waiting in line for a slice of ridiculously large pizza and Takoma Park was full of over grown hippies who went about in their capitalistic hating bubbles. I longed for the simplicity I felt I had found in Texas. I longed for down to Earth folks who listened to country music, worked hard during the week, watched football on Fridays (and Saturdays and Sundays), raised families and took pride in their patriotism. I longed for the idea of middle-America that I had worked so hard to preserve as a democratic Senate staffer. (Never mind the fact that most of the folks I’m talking about tend to be republicans!). I set my sights on Austin, Texas, where I could enjoy the weather, the live music, the friendly atmosphere – a place where it doesn’t matter what job you have, how much money you make or who you know. I had all but said adios to the city of Washington, D.C. until the past couple weeks.

The city and I have had a few moments where it almost feels like its asking me not to give up on it – not to leave with bad feelings and to remember the good times. These moments are few and far between but they’re there – soft whispers of the love that once was. One of the distinct feelings that rushed back was the same one I would get when I returned from visits to other cities. I remember getting the feeling on my back from Hilton Head, SC back in high school. Angela and I drove back together, took a wrong turn and ended up on 395 and accidentally drove into the city. But the moment I saw the Washington Monument, the Jefferson Memorial, the Lincoln Memorial and of course, the glorious dome of the Capitol Building laid out before me, I got a cozy feeling – I was home.

I got the same cozy feeling recently when I had to drive into Arlington for a meeting, early on a Saturday morning. I drove from 16th Street, through Dupont Circle and into Georgetown, where I took the Key Bridge into Virginia. Seeing the city on a weekend morning is very different than driving through it late at night. It seems simple, elegant, and beautiful. I got to watch the transgression of the neighborhoods from the residential homes and churches on 16th Street, to the urban, hip U Street, through Dupont Circle and on into Georgetown. There is nothing like seeing Georgetown on a Saturday morning. Most of Washington D.C. screams history and Georgetown is no exception. The fine shops in old rowhouses that line the cobblestoned streets seem to perfectly blend the rich history of the colonial port city with the upscale neighborhood it has become. And seeing it in the morning, when it wasn't littered with people made it much easier to appreciate the beauty.

On my way back, instead of driving back over the Key Bridge, I took 66 and drove past Arlington National Cemetery. The cemetery is a place I've always wanted to visit but haven't gotten around to but just driving past it, elicited the same haunting yet proud feeling I get whenever I visit any of the war memorials in the city. As I drove into the city from 395, once again, I saw the best parts of D.C. laid out before me and I got that same cozy feeling. This is my city – this is where I’m from. I'm starting to realize how lucky I am that I get to call the Nation’s Capital my home but like with any relationship, its easier to appreciate things when they're gone and while D.C. will never leave, I will and hopefully I'll grow to love it more when I go.

Picture courtesy of Keith Stanley, www.kestan.com

Thoughts of Independence

On a cold, Sunday morning where would you expect to find a 24 year old, single girl? Laying in bed after a night of partying? On a morning jog at the park? Sipping a latte and reading the Sunday Post at Starbucks? Perhaps. Where was I this Sunday morning? I was at Home Depot. My closet doesn't have a shelf or bars and after 2 weeks of keeping my clothes in cardboard boxes, I decided to take matters into my own hands and "build" a closet. I consider myself to be an independent woman so I figured that doing it for myself was my only option. I went to Target to find one of those closet contraptions that consists of shelves and bars that you can install yourself. The box insisted that it would be easy and that I would only need the help of a few simple tools. I had put together a few Ikea items here and there so I thought "this should be a piece of cake." Hah. I armed myself with the tools from my uncle's garage (all ones he had never used), opened the box and emptied out its contents. I skipped the first instruction, which was to identify all the parts and make sure they were all present. I always skip that step - its for chumps. Three hours and a terrible backache later, I had succeeded in finishing step 1, which was to find and mark the studs 87.5 inches above the ground. I had an eye doctor appointment, so I used that as a breaking point. When I got back, I noticed a truck with a construction company's name on it in our driveway. My aunt explained to me that she admired my efforts and thought it was "cute" that I was going to try to install it myself but that at the rate I was going, the closet wouldn't be done until next month so she called over the handy men they use and paid for them to install the closet. They had it done in about 35 minutes. Its the thought that counts, right?

Greetings from Levittown 4.0!

The one thing that I had pushed to the back of my mind during this move was my strong distaste for the suburbs. There’s a lot I’m already starting to miss about the city. I miss the simple street names - First Street, Second street, M Street, etc. Here, they have really cheesy names that are trying hard to convey a bright, safe (boring) existence. For example, I live on Golden Meadow Drive, which is off of Scenery Road. Also, there's really no such thing as walking to grab a bite to eat or walking to the metro since the closest one is about a 20 minute drive!! There aren’t any nifty little shops and ethnic restaurants in a neighborhood with old buildings and houses that have seen many decades of change.
I’m trying to look at the bright side, though. Its not all terrible - there are some benefits, such as parking. In suburbia, there's sprawling shopping malls with free parking in large, spacious lots. I don't need to worry about breaking into a sweat while trying to parallel park my car in front of a restaurant as the customers who are eating on the patio outside watch me in amusement as I shift back and forth, trying to fit in between the large SUV in front of me and the Civic that's taking up part of MY parking spot, only to realize that I have no quarters, nickels or dimes for the meter. That's another thing - I'm hoping to start appreciating pennies a lot more now that I'm in the suburbs. There is nothing more annoying than needing to feed the meter (after spending 10 minutes fitting into the damn spot) and opening your wallet to find 5 measly pennies. I used to always zip it up, search through my pockets and then re-open it, hoping that they had somehow magically turned into a nickle to buy me enough time to get change for the twenty dollar bill that I had probably JUST taken out of the ATM for (that I probably paid a $2 fee for). That is definitely one thing I will NOT miss about living in the city.
Back to my distaste for the suburbs. I appreciate a big old Target and pretty tree lined streets but I really don't need to keep reading the bumper stickers on the backs of various mini vans and SUVs proudly proclaiming that the driver's child is an honor roll student at Middle School. I hate how there's nothing authentic about the "burbs." I miss the random coffee shops, used book stores and interesting architecture of the city. I miss the metro and the random bricks you see scattered about the city and the abundance of happy hours filled with people my age. Check back in with me in two weeks and the abundance of Olive Gardens, Best Buys and two car garages might have me actually missing the fast food joints, liquor stores and ethnic hair salons that littered Georgia Ave.