I won't even make one up.

But hello, faithful reader! You will be happy to know that I still live and breathe and that very little of my life has changed, at least in the big picture sense. I still have my same old job, live in my same old apartment, remain involved in my same old stuff (dance class, karate, pub stuff, piano bar). These months of being officially car-free have barely even registered with me. It feels like it's always been this way. This is in part because I totally stopped driving the thing in September, but also because it's just so easy to live like this around here, I sometimes have to remind myself that car travel IS in fact an option, either via ZipCar or the ever popular ride-bumming. For the record, I get rides as infrequently as possible, and those who drive me on a more than occasional basis get rewarded (I was my cousin's designated driver for the 4th of July, for example).

I earned my purple belt in karate, which I'm probably WAY too proud of. It's a big step, though. It's kind of the line between beginner and intermediate, and the test was damn near unbearable, but I made it through. There were at least two points during that test where I was ready to just walk out. I didn't want that purple belt that badly. I really didn't. But something made me stay both times and I'm glad I did. The first near walkout was during the first hour, when everyone is inside (after they turned off the air conditioning I might add), being subjected to an unusual amount of fairly cruel calisthenics. It was horrible. Everyone was drenched in sweat and totally miserable, and during one of our "rest periods" (ha), there were tears. And not just mine. Others were crying, I swear.  

The other time I nearly walked out was more of a mental challenge. There's something called "slapping out", which basically means falling in such a way that you won't get hurt. Being "taken down" means that someone is practicing one of their defensive maneuvers on you and...takes you down. You, at that point, slap out so you don't break your head, neck, wrists, tailbone or all four (five?). One of the reasons I tested for the purple belt in June rather than May (aside from the fact I failed to show up for the majority of April) is that I kind of refuse to be taken down. It's frightening for me. I'm not a tiny person, and the bigger they are the harder they fall and all that. It's also unnerving, feeling out of control like that. That, and one day during one of the blizzard classes, I DID get taken down....a bit too hard. I wasn't prepared for it and I smacked my head. I was really freaked out, generally, and specifically freaked out that I'd wind up snowbound in my apartment with a concussion. Not cool. My instructor was totally patient and understanding (as always) and let me go at my own pace. We even spent half a private lesson with a pile of mats (kick shields, really) on the floor, to soften the fall. I *FINALLY* got used to being taken down inside the studio. So what was the problem?

They moved us outside. To make space for the other groups testing for other belts, and to get us into the cooler air, the second half of our test was performed outside. Green space being hard to come by in the city, "outside" means a large bit of sidewalk outside Trader Joe's. Which means two things. First: On a Friday evening EVERYONE I KNOW is passing by stocking up for the weekend. I'm red, sweaty, look like I've just been crying (because I have), dressed like a ninja and doing karate outdoors. Awesome. Second, it means bricks. BRICKS. I'm expected to be taken town....to FALL onto a brick sidewalk. The tears recommenced. I was so frightened that I was going to crack my skull open, and was really about to just leave. I asked if we could go back inside, and was told no. But it was a kind no. A "you can do this" no. The whole group was held up 15 minutes while we all (for my sake alone) practiced slapping out again and again before the whole defensive maneuver/take down stuff happened. And guess what? I survived. And got my purple belt :).

So that's my update for now. I really will be around these parts more often. I need to find a good balance for this blog. The majority of my amusing anecdotes/points of stress still have to do with the male of our species (though that whole business has gotten FAR simpler in the past month or so), and I just cannot and will not write about all that but I'm sure I can remember to write about something funny/silly/cute/annoying/stressful/etc that happened at work/dance/karate etc. I will do it! 

Hey there. Long time no see. I'm sure the handful of my faithful readers have long abandoned ship. I know I would have. I'm not going to claim I've been busy, because I haven't. Not in my traditional sense of the excuse at least. I HAVE been spending very little time at home, and even less time at home in a state conducive to blogging. 

I've been up to all sorts of shenanigans the likes of which I do my very best to keep off these pages. I've been telling people that I'm just now hitting my teenage rebellion period. So there. That's about it.

Two big things have happened that I feel are worth mentioning, and certainly worth blogging about with pictures when I get the chance. First (chronologically, not in order of importance), Catherine (of Alaska living fame--remember her?), her husband (newly returned from Afghanistan, name withheld because we haven't talked about his feelings about being written about) and their darling 14-month-old son were gracious enough to stop by and stay with me for a weekend on a whirlwind East Coast roadtrip. It was so great to see them again (and meet the wee one!), and a good time was had by all. And, most importantly, my non-babyproofed apartment did not manage to maim, injure, eat or otherwise destroy the fair bairn, so the visit was officially a success (and there were bikes, which will be written about).

Then, on April 21st (a particularly auspicious date as it's the first day of the venerable Taurus sign of the Zodiac), my sister had a baby, a very tiny and very sleepy little girl named Makayla (pronounced Michaela). I went up to visit last weekend and have many sweet pictures to share, which I will do when it's not 2am and I'm newly returned from the Rugby Ball at the French Embassy, having had a wonderful time with my....whatever he was (date? friend? person I went with?). All (err, ok most) signs point to "date". 

Either way it was great. He won a prize in the raffle (a signed Donovan McNabb Redskins jersey, impressive because that trade only just happened), the food was great, I got to dance to Lady Gaga, and rugby people are, on the whole, extremely amusing to be around. Will consider writing more about the ball later (it involves organized crowd surfing and some fine young lads from the Royal Air Force, just a heads up).

That's all for now. Apologies for the absence. You do understand the drive to keep the more sensitive personal life stuff off of here right?  :)

I've been laid up on the couch for a while--yesterday and today. Got a terrible sore throat, sinus issues and my body generally feels like I've been at the laundromat on tumble dry low for a week. Therefore, nothing's been happening.

I did ride my bike to work on Tuesday (before I got sick), and that was a fun welcome change. I'll post pictures from the flood we just had, though. And really, I generally don't talk or write about the weather half as much as I have this year, but we've really been getting walloped!

Must go. Sleep is calling me back.

It is a long established fact that I do not, as a rule, write about my romantic life here at The Freckled Diaries. This is for several reasons: first and foremost (and I take this point very seriously), I do not believe in using other people's personal lives as fodder for entertainment for the masses. By definition, my romantic life is also the romantic lives of assorted and sundry young men. So, out of respect for their privacy, my general policy is to not kiss and tell (at least in print). I expect the same consideration in return, and I do think that it's only fair and civil. Also, I must admit, this is a bit of a self-preservation effort. I have seen more than one young lady destroy a budding relationship when the beau in question discovers that what he thought was a private and personal matter has been broadcast to the internet-at-large. I'd rather not tank something that could be good because of my silly, vaguely narcissistic blogging tendencies. Also, the bulk of my romantic life (such that it is) is really just terrible crushes on unattainable individuals, and I'd rather not have them stumble upon this. Yep, I'm that paranoid.  Finally, this is just really not that kind of blog. I'm no Carrie Bradshaw wannabe, and even if I were, I wouldn't have enough raw material to blog about. My romantic life is (generally) not all that interesting. 

So there we go. I think that this is a good, honorable, honest, fair and polite policy.

However. Some things are too funny to not share (also, there is very little else going on in my life outside of boy-related drama so I best write something). So, if you happen to be the young man in question, I sincerely apologize (though, it would have taken some serious Googling to find this blog so I think we're about even now, alright?). This is not actually about you. This is about me, my friends and the insane little town that you've found yourself wrapped up in. You are not a prop in my life, but you're going to be treated like a prop in this story (again, because the funny bit isn't really about you). I hope you can handle that, and understand the difference.

Fair warning: this requires a bit of background, which I'm going to go into in detail because I figure if I'm going to break a rule I may as well just go ahead and break it. Again, if it's you....it's all good.

Background

This all started last Wednesday, when I was at our final parade-planning meeting. As is the normal course of events, we were all hanging out, being social after the meeting. One of our members tends to get a bit too enthusiastic in the recruitment effort, and can at times become a bit much to non-Ballyshaner patrons of the bar. When this occurs, we try to swoop in and take back control of the situation and allow the bar patrons to go back to whatever it was they were doing before our welcome wagon appeared. This happened on that Wednesday. I swooped in and rescued three Marines from our booster. She eventually left them alone, but they were fun and interesting and we struck up a good conversation so I stuck around. 

One, the quiet one, was about my age, while the other, more gregarious (and intoxicated) ones were (I believe) significantly older. At some point, they decided to leave Pat Troy's for Murphy's, which happens to be a mere block from my house. I was planning on leaving for home at about that time so I told them I'd walk with them, just for the hell of it. After some antics on King Street (in which one of them decided to see if he could ride my bike----highly amusing--big strong drunk Marine on my little, girly Amsterdam swerving up the sidewalk with his knees hitting the handlebars), the group eventually split into two--the two older ones at least a block ahead of me, my bike and the younger one (who I'll call Sweet Marine for now---as opposed to a completely different Marine I've been dealing with this month--also very nice, fun and interesting but a bit more what one expects out of the Corps...still all good, though!). 

Anyway, I got to talking with the younger one, who is really very, very sweet (hence the nickname) and nice (and shy---extremely unusual for a Marine, in my limited experience). We got to Murphy's, where the other guys were waiting for us outside. The non-shy ones convinced me (easily, I must admit), to join them inside for a pint.  Once inside, the two older ones all but vanished (they were sitting near us but completely ignoring us). It was just me and the younger one. I know enough to know that this was no accident, but decided to run with it.

We sat at that bar for I don't even know how long talking about everything and nothing, and hit upon movies. He asked what the most recent movie I saw was, and it was Up In The Air, which he said he saw last month (in Iraq!) and loved. I kind of thought that was a line (because I'm used to military men by now), but didn't accuse him of such. He then asked what my favorite movie was, which is an impossible question for me to answer. I always feel like all-time-favorites should be some great classic, so that answer is Casablanca, but that's so tired and cliched that I feel silly saying it and it's also not true. It's not my "favorite", and my favorite changes constantly. More modern movies, however, don't necessarily have that staying power, so it's hard to name one of them as "favorite". So I said as much, adding that my favorite *type* of movie is best typified by the recent movie, Stranger Than Fiction, which I doubted he'd even seen. He claimed to absolutely love that movie, which I also kind of thought might be a line, until he added that he liked Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind better. This kind of blew my mind, because I'd been deciding between the two for my example of my "favorite", and while both were relative box-office not-failures....they're really not all that popular of movies, really are NOT guy movies, and they're REALLY not military guy movies (though call any of those "chick flicks", and we've got words to exchange). So it was on. We have very nearly the exact same taste in movies, he's sweet and nice and cute and obviously interested in (slash vaguely terrified of) me..... 

Now I'm at a loss. I don't generally hit this point with someone I've just met. I'm much more of a "get to know you as a friend for a while and maybe we'll go out one of these days" kind of person (which, from experience gotta warn you: doomed for failure). The bar is closing (on a Wednesday  for Christ's sake!), his drunken buddies are back and trying to figure out how to get back to the base. I wanted very little to do with all that logistic drama, but I wanted to talk to Sweet Marine a bit more. So, in an uncharacteristically bold move, I asked him to walk me home. Which surprised him (possibly even more than it surprised me!), but which he did. That block (and a half) has never seemed longer. Poor boy was shivering cold (no coat--they got back from Iraq the day before the blizzard....you don't carry a winter coat to Iraq and back and all the stores were sold of winter stuff by then) and conversation had reached an impasse, probably because of my now frighteningly bold move.

We arrived at my doorstep, where we went for a hug-goodnight, and I really honestly don't remember how it happened (my money's on it was me who started it....) but suddenly we were enjoying a goodnight kiss! It was all very confusing and exciting at the same time. We carried on that way for a good long while (and honestly, I can't remember the last time I had a doorstep-makeout, and didn't realize how much I missed it), until I said that I really had to go, and we exchanged phone numbers and I sent him back off into the night in search of his drunken buddies. I kind of figured I'd never hear from him again (because that's more or less how my life goes), until he texted me on Monday and we had a nice little text conversation, and then he texted me again on Wednesday (just this past Wednesday), remembering that the Ballyshaners meet at Troy's every Wednesday, and wondering if I was going to be out. I said yes, asked if he was and he replied "I am now". Yikes?!

Finally, the Funny Part

Or at least it's funny to me. Sorry about all that. The only important details are that I met this guy, we're both kind of into each other, and he knows enough about me to know I'm probably going to be at Troy's on a Wednesday. But the long version is a bit more fun, right? (I'm still struggling with the guilt/paranoia of divulging too much detail, but I also think that Part One of the story is cute and sweet and it's so hard to not share!).

At this point in the story, I'm still kind of wondering what last Wednesday was all about because it's all just really outside of my realm of "normal". I'm wondering just what in the world this guy thinks of me and what he's thinking this Wednesday is about (Is it a date? Surely not. Or maybe? Do I want it to be a date? I'm not sure. Who knows what's going on here?). A couple of my friends are aware of the situation, which means that in very short order, ALL of my friends are aware of the situation. The bar, being a Wednesday, is really not full at all. There's our regular bartender, Scott, one of the regular singers, Brooke, about a dozen or so of the parade folks (all my friends), a handful of regulars, and a smaller handful of random bar-goers. Basically, the place is 80% full of people who know me, and know me well, and know that for the first time in their experience, I'm meeting up with a guy for a maybe-date (and that it's taken him well over an hour to get to me via Metro--no Marine buddies to drive him this time, and the base he's staying at is literally the least Metro-accessible area inside the Beltway, particularly if you're trying to get to Alexandria). I can honestly say that I have never once brought a date or a maybe date or even just a good male friend out to Pat Troy's. The reasons why are as follow.

This guy had no idea what he was stepping into. He knew that "my group" would be out, but didn't know that it would be most of the bar and that consequently almost every eyeball in the joint would be on him (and to a lesser extent, us). At some point, we were talking about this book I read, The Geography of Bliss, and how one of the chapters the author visited some wealthy country in the Persian Gulf to test the assumption that money buys happiness (great book by the way, check it out). He wondered if it was Qutar, where he'd been for an R&R from Iraq, and I couldn't remember if it was there or Dubai. So I got out my phone to look it up on Amazon. Once I pulled up the chapter titles, he leaned in over my shoulder to look at my phone (pretty slick) and while doing so slipped his hand around my waist (even better). 

Instantly, I saw Scott (the bartender)'s eyebrows shoot up his forehead as he was looking over my head, to my posse of parade folk, who I can only assume were doing some adult equivalent of pointing and giggling. I should make it clear here that I don't think that they were doing this out of the "get a room" kind of attitude, but more out of the "awww, how cute" kind of attitude. But still. Then, suddenly, the singer broke into his own acoustic guitar version of "Unchained Melody" and stuck with the love song theme for the next 25 years (or so it seemed). We heard Elvis's "Falling in Love With You", and other assorted googley eyed standbys I can't remember now. I was ready to throw my shoe up there, but Sweet Marine didn't seem to notice (I think he was too nervous to).

At a set break, I suggested that we leave. He paid my tab while I was in the ladies' room (and I'd been there for hours before he got there--and had dinner! I felt really bad about that because I think he probably only thought he was paying for what he'd seen me drink....). I suggested the Light Horse (next door to Murphy's) because I don't know anyone there, but when we got there, the live band was so loud you couldn't even carry on a conversation on the sidewalk outside, let alone indoors. So he suggested we go into Murphy's. Which is where the other half of town who knows me hangs out. As if by some miracle, it's only Rocky the singer and Dave the bartender who know me there, and both of them are significantly more mature than the lot down at Troy's and they more or less left us alone (but were making faces and pressing for details whenever he was out of eye/ear shot). We spent a good long time talking and flirting (and kissing! Omg, public kissing=something I don't do, but I guess I do now) at the bar. 

I've been answering a lot of questions ever since. Not because this behavior is scandalous in the slightest, it's entirely normal behavior from most people. It's just that it's me, and most of these people haven't seen me alone with a man ever (that's on purpose, mind...and you see why) and that it's so completely random that I met someone and then had a maybe-date with him on two consecutive Wednesdays from Troy's of all places. And that the maybe-date was conducted in front of half the people I know (who know me to generally not be a "dater"). And that some of them also know that I've been having misadventures with other members of our armed forces ever since the blizzard, and find the situation funny and fascinating. And something to tease me about.

So that's it. A very awkward but funny first maybe-date (nothing to do with the boy and everything to do with my crazy friends and this town being entirely too small for a decent measure of privacy). It went well enough, by the way. I heard from him the very next day. He's going on vacation for the next week or so (they get a decent amount of vacation time when coming back from deployment), but it appears as if he wants to see me again when he gets back. I'm still unsure about all of this, in no small part because I spent much of the maybe-date wanting to throw things at my friends, but I figure that a proper date, somewhere NOT my usual haunts will do us both some good. We're both a bit shy, and I think that keeping distractions to a minimum is likely a good call.

I'd say I'll keep you posted, but I probably won't. Honestly, would you want someone live-blogging your dates? Not likely. This just had to be an exception, because it really is very funny (in hindsight, of course).

So, today was an interesting day. First off, something you need to understand about Capitol Hill is that every year around this time, hundreds (if not thousands) of awareness/advocacy groups flock to the halls of Congress to meet with Senators and Congressmen to push for their cause. Most are seeking federal funding in some form, many are pushing for specific bills, others are just there to make their presence and influence known. This type of thing happens year-round but early spring is always a major, major push time because that's when Congress gets down to the business of writing appropriations bills--deciding who gets what. It's always an interesting time to be up there, and in my checkered history on the Hill, is something I've managed to witness firsthand for four out of the (now) six springs I've lived here.

It can also be a real pain because, as a staffer for a Senator or Congressman, your days are nothing but back-to-back-to-back meetings with people with a cause (often a good and important cause), which is (I understand) exhausting and frustrating because you, the staffer, can't really do all that much in the grand scheme of things. For other Hill staff, from committee staff like myself, to maintenance staff to tour guides it basically means very full and busy hallways (so much so that it's often hard to carry on a telephone conversation if your desk is too near the door, the noise can be so great), endless waits for elevators, and lunch lines so long that just getting your food takes up your entire lunch half-hour.

Which brings me to today. Today, the Alzheimer's Association was out in force. They were easily recognizable because they wore purple--purple ties, sashes, jackets...anything purple. This stands out, and is actually something that most organizations do not do (with notable exceptions, of course). Anyway, they were the most out-in-force group I've seen yet this cycle and I think it's a good thing (lunch lines notwithstanding).

My family has a long and personal history with this terrible disease, and even if we didn't, I still think that this is a major issue that MUST be addressed and fast, or we're all in hot water. Basically, it's a disease that cannot be prevented, that is LONG (10-15 YEARS), and extremely expensive to manage. By the end, the patient needs help with even the most basic of tasks. This disease absolutely will bankrupt Medicare and Medicaid . One in every seven people over the age of 65 will get the disease. One in every two people over the age of 85 will. Think of those numbers. One in seven people with an expensive and long disease! We have these people known as the baby boomers who are starting to push that age envelope. We, as a nation, are going to spend massive amounts of money treating this disease because we won't spend any reasonable amount searching for a cure, which is particularly odd because when given the proper tools, researchers DO make great strides.

Anyway. Back to today. It was Alzheimer's Day in DC today. My uncle has done a lot of work with the Alzheimer's Association over the years, and has worked hard to bring attention in the media to this disease, its victims and their families, and the urgent need for federal research funding. You can read his article about it (and his personal journey to get his DNA tested) here (complete with a photo of my grandmother and my cousin Rebecca when she was wee). And if you're still interested, you can watch the story he did here.  Because of these efforts, the Alzheimer's Association presented him with their Shriver Profiles in Dignity Award at their gala this evening. 

I got dolled up in my black tie best in the gym at work and headed to the National Building Museum for the event. I generally strongly dislike these sorts of events (mingling isn't my strong suit and I cannot bloody stand how people talk to you at these things--always looking over your shoulder for someone more important to talk to), but tonight's was (oddly) enjoyable. Rebecca and her parents were there, and it was good to see Terry and Karen--the only real difficult part of giving up my car is that getting to their house is now significantly more complicated and Sunday dinners aren't as frequent as they used to be, and so I don't see them half as much as I used to. Terry gave a very moving acceptance speech, and on the whole (apparently) the evening managed to raise over $1 million for the Association. It's strange being so dressed up and out so late on a Tuesday, but it was a very special evening and I'm glad I was there.

And a little plug, please go check out the Alzheimer's Association's website. They're far more knowledgeable and articulate on this topic than I am. You don't need to volunteer or donate, but if you understand the call for alarm and want to do something about it, please contact your Senators and Congressman.