"I was 32 when I started cooking, up until then I just ate."

So on the plane ride to DC I read Julia Child's "My Life in France."

Though her kitchen pioneering hay days were before my time, I became so spellbound and attached: her fearlessness, her beautiful marriage to Paul Child and the amazing adventures they embarked on together for both of their careers, the way she embraced life and didn't sweat the small stuff, her love of learning...

Well, today I went to the Museum of American History which boasts such iconic Americana items like the red slippers worn by Judy Garland in Wizard of Oz, Lincoln's sobering black top hat, an Alabama sit-in counter, etc.

...but my personal favorite was Julia's Kitchen (!!!!!!), fully intact and on display for all to peek inside. 

I distinctly remember falling in love with food and cooking sophomore year, when I lived in an apartment with Kelly. We'd both come home from class and watch Giada; and honestly my life's never been the same. 

Because whether it's Giada or Julia or Anthony Bourdain or Mario Batali, they're striking at the best and purest parts of life: travel, culture, family, friends, simplicity, time, patience, persistence, catharsis, quality...

Anyway, it felt like my Julia Child phase has come full circle.

And now this:

Happy Birthday Kori Hamman!

a cupcake + an indie cd

...per our birthday tradition

wish we could celebrate together here or at mcnellies.

love you more than the whole wide world.

Surviving DC Summer 09: Avoid the Red Line and Crazy Elderly Bigots at Holocaust Museum.

I have a thing for chinese wave illustrations.

My favorite thing in the world is now Tapas.

Howard Dean was in my Metro car. My first DC celebrity! Thinner in person.

A lot going on in the sports world: I'm insanely happy Shaq's being traded, because he ruined everything the Suns had going for them. And, though heartbreaking, I think it's ultimately good for the world that soccer glory remains an elusive sport for the United States.

It's been a frustrating and busy week for me as far as legislation and issues are concerned, but Saturday morning I was walking toward Georgetown and out of nowhere comes this massive march of people peaceably protesting the elections in Iran. 

I started crying, literally overwhelmed by how amazing it is that I live in a country where opinions can be voiced without shots being fired. How healthy that is for a country. And how much I take that for granted.

Most importantly, come to me and my friend Emily's PARTY for all things Michael, Farrah and 4th of July!

Public Service Announcement.

I generally consider myself a very healthy person - I don't have allergies or asthma, I've never been hospitalized, never broken a bone, I'm not constantly fighting off colds or mono or strep or swine flu...

But, since summer 2008, I've suffered from miserable bouts of Vertigo often occurring after flights or trains, etc.

And when I describe it to people, I often feel like I'm making it up, like I stole it from an Alfred Hitchcock film and there's not possibly something out there really entitled Vertigo.

But now that I'm in almost a constant state of Vertigo (thanks public transportation), I've decided to enlighten everyone on the symptoms of this random/weird malady so that people can feel sufficiently sympathetic toward me when I complain.

First, my eyes get really red and watery.

And then I feel as if I am constantly moving: mostly falling or sloping downward, but if I'm in a chair or lying in bed I feel like I'm on a boat bobbing in water...

This is not to be confused with dizziness or motion sickness. I never feel dizzy or nauseated.

When it's really bad I run into walls.

...it's very disorienting, even scary, because it's so inescapable and it becomes harder than normal to function in society.

Since the source is some sort of inner ear equilibrium mechanism that nobody knows how to explain to me in a way that makes any sense, my ears begin to pop and ring.

I then go to a doctor who gives me glorified sleeping pills and instructs me through a series embarrassing stretches/exercises that do not help. As of right now, time seems to be the only cure.

According to Web MD, I will either be living with this for the rest of my life or am dying of a brain tumor. 

If I Had Any Say In "Hott 100" Lists, Beyonce Would Be #1 Every Time.

Because I Feel Like I Have So Much More To Say Than Twitter Allows...

Update:

Bill Clinton is speaking at the Conference I'm currently working on.

I believe in public education 110 percent. State school kids are my kinda people.

My Mom is the new Assistant Dean at the Architecture College. Basically, she kicks ass.

I am insanely busy. Work sucks up your entire day. And all you want to do when you get home is curl up to watch TV and fall asleep. Eeeeeeks.

I really just love getting dressed in the morning.

I love this city.

I love nights out in this city.

I feel like I'm living what I believe in, if that even makes sense...

I feel lost as to what the next step is.

I miss the comfort of school awaiting me in the fall. 

I am gaining a crash course in hardcore budgeting.

I really really miss my life in Oklahoma, especially especially my friends. 

I'm sad I didn't get to see Christa skip down the aisle at Jamie and Joe's wedding (of the Century).

...it's stuff like that I miss the most.

I love listening to Mykonos by Fleet Foxes. Could listen to it forever.

It's also Father's Day, thus a big shout out to Kelley Callahan!

So awhile ago, I was at home for a weekend and I rented MILK (so so good) and my Dad watched it with me. 

And when it was finished, he turned to me and says, in reference to Harvey Milk, "Now that's a hero."

And in that moment, it struck me how heroic my Dad is. 

That I was raised in an atmosphere where I can easily watch MILK with a Dad who has no qualms calling a gay man heroic. 

With a Dad who, despite loving and living and breathing sports and wanting five boys, was raised by a single mom and two sisters and has three artsy daughters who he has supported wholeheartedly, so that they've never second guessed their place in the world or their abilities.

With a Dad who read novels to me every single night when I was little: To Kill a Mockingbird (my Dad will always be Atticus Finch to me), Babbit, The Hobbit, Tony Hillerman detective novels...

With a Dad whose thoughtful intelligence has evidenced itself in his answers to my bazillion questions and the way he rarely talks about politics, but repeatedly placed Obama and Rice signs in the front yard in quiet defiance after every midnight steal.

So, I love my Dad.

National Building Museum.

Okay, so my DC must see is the Arlington Cemetery. Because it's incredibly moving and poignant and sacred and stirring and beautiful. 

And jazz in the Sculpture Gardens during Friday afternoon happy hour is perfection.

Oh, and early morning runs past the State Department, Lincoln Monument and reflecting pool. So worth waking up for.

But I also went to the National Building Museum this weekend and loved it. There were all these really cool, random exhibits.

For instance: 

Architecture of Authority by Richard Ross, which are all these haunting, clinical photographs of structures where people are submitted to authority: everything from prisons, high school hallways, the DMV, Cambodian torture chambers, interrogation rooms, Guantanamo Bay, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad's office, airport customs...

How the Other Half Worships by Camilo Jose Vergara, which pairs amazingly gritty photographs with a sociological examination of these storefront churches converted from laundromats and car repair shops in these really poor, desperate areas

Green Community which is this study of how different cities are combating urban sprawl, innovating and seeking sustainability. Fascinating! (Portland wins for best city ever, by the way).

It further sparked my newest career interest: urban planner. I am officially obsessed with how all the different components of a city function.

...I really love museums. Especially when they're free.