The Time We Went To Washington DC But It Was Closed

Months and months ago, we were invited to the wedding of Devin's lifelong best friend. As if this wasn't exciting enough, it was also going to be held in Washington, DC, a city neither one of us has ever had a chance to explore.

"Let's make a vacation of it!" we said.
"Let's stay for a long weekend and do some sightseeing!" we said.

Flights were booked, plans were made. Devin's mother was set to join us and supervise Oscar so we could partay. Then, two weeks before our scheduled departure, the government shut down for reasons I never took the time to completely understand.

"It'll all be cleared up by the time we get there," we said.

But it wasn't. And our long weekend of touristing was whittled down to a long morning spent looking at the outsides of important buildings.

Oscar doing his Uncle Sam impression

The cool side effect of the shut down was that the whole scene was almost totally devoid of human life. "It's like being on Earth the day after," Devin's mom commented as we came up to street level from the metro station.


 Of course this probably had something to do with bad weather, a tourist off-season and it being the weekend. But it still felt delightfully eerie. 

And speaking of the bright side, the rest of the city is filled with nice people and good stuff. Georgetown is completely charming. We went to several chic hotels for cocktails, and each one was tasteful and not overcrowded. We even lucked out and scored a bartender on his last night of work, just dying to give away free glasses of champagne.



The public transportation was clean and easy to navigate. And there's a bus called The Circulator that's only $1.00 and hits some major hubs.


Our hotel was actually just over the river (well, over a river... there are several in the area and I don't know which is which) in Rosslyn, VA. It was a peculiar little urban pocket of mostly office buildings and newer apartment structures.

The view from our hotel

 There were plenty of shops and eateries for us to walk to, but the real find was the fire station holding an open house on Saturday afternoon.



And, right behind the fire station, a playground.

The gray and gloomy weather also helped win me over. I've noticed that I tend to fall in love with a city if it rains the first time I visit. While the natives run for cover, I move slowly from door to door, relishing the rainfall. Everything feels magical, every experience is like a discovery. And usually by the end of my stay, I announce, "I could live here."

I guess it was maybe a good thing capital hill touristing was a bust. Think of all the time we would've wasted being shushed in marble corridors instead of taking in, and falling in love with, the rest of this wonderful city.

The Modern Lodge Proj: Search For Art

One of the unexpected side effects of moving into our house has been my new-found disdain for the framed artwork that hung in our previous homes. For no clear reason, photos and prints I'd carefully considered and framed over the years now look sloppy and/or juvenile. And it's too bad, because now we've got more walls to adorn than ever before.

Starting with this one.


The print hanging on the wall here is a really cool series of Bill Murray illustrations that I still like.  I just don't like it there.

And so the search began for some art that Devin and I could agree on and that supported whatever I mean by modern lodge (henceforth: ModLodge). For a few weeks, there were conversations like this.

Devin: What about skis?
Briana: You mean hang skis on the wall?
Devin: Yeah like in a ski lodge.
Briana: But we don't ski.
Devin: Oh yeah...What about snow shoes?

Eventually the conversation found its way to mounted deer heads.



They certainly say "classic lodge," but they also scream, "Look at this thing that's dead now!" And I can't get down with that.

Still, we were onto something. If you've spent any time on Etsy, you know it's loaded with hipster-friendly deer head alternatives made up of just about any material that's not carcass.

 
  

But no matter how colorful and ridiculous these pieces are, they still remind me of the hacked off heads that inspired them.

Then, I remembered deer can be intact and still be art. I took to Etsy once more looking for whole deer and found this:



Pretty cool, right? Devin actually agreed and we'd finally found one thing. I ordered it immediately.

2 weeks later, this is what showed up at my front door.

It was a narrow package that contained:
The canvas/burlap print, folded
A piece of beige linen, folded
4 pieces of wood
4 plastic...bits

If you're looking at the picture and thinking that slip of paper is instructions, you're as hopeless as I am. That's a shipping receipt. It didn't come with instructions. For the sake of comparison, let me tell you that over the weekend I bought Oscar a rechargeable nightlight and inside the box was the nightlight and an a/c adapter.  And THAT came with instructions.

I emailed the seller, wanting to write something along the lines of "What the fuck am I supposed to do with this?" Instead, I politely inquired if maybe they'd forgot to include instructions and oh, by the way, you didn't mention I was going to need to assemble this.

He sent instructions back, but they were not terribly helpful [think: "How to bake a pie" Step 1- Preheat oven. Step 2- Pie.] Fearing I'd mess up my nice new thing, I schlepped everything to a frame shop. The guy working there said there'd be absolutely no way for me to be able to do this myself, so I felt reassured that I hadn't been asking too much in assuming my art would arrive in one piece, rather than ten. He also said that the creases left in the fabric from folding them wouldn't come out completely unless I ironed them, so I took them home and ironed and ironed and it turns out burlap is a lot like aluminum foil in that in can not be de-wrinkled.

But anyway, after 4 days and 3 trips to the frame shop, it was ready to hang.



I realize it's off-center but there was already a nail there and I was at about my limit with this thing. I'll get around to moving it. What's important is that one more mission is complete!

And if you're wondering if I wrote a bad review on Etsy... I didn't. I wrote this.

The Spare Room

Typically one might award the title "spare room" to a small room at the back of the house used to store boxes of junk or the occasional house guest. In my home, the spare room is at the very front of the house, the very first room you see upon arrival.

We've tried calling it the den, or the family room, but neither term sticks. It's a second living room, a smaller version than the one that sits just on the other side of the wall. (The larger living room has the TV and therefore, the power.)

Don't misunderstand my frustrations; too much space is a delightful problem to have. It's just that because this room is such a focal point, and right off the kitchen, I've spent more time fixating on it than any other room in the house. 

I gave some thought to making it a formal dining room, but when I offered this suggestion to Devin, he said it would be a waste of a room. And he's right. Our last two dwellings had formal dining rooms that were almost never used for dining, if at all.

So at present, the room is an island of misfit furniture. Two armchairs, two bar stools of different heights (swiped from work after a shoot), and three tables, including a media console.

But it won't be so confused forever. I have a plan. A motif I'm calling "modern lodge." Feel free to borrow that phrase for your own design inspiration. Go ahead, try it. It seems like a thing, right?

We bought the house because it felt like a cozy camp. It just needs a smattering of modernity because I am, if nothing else, a hip and modern woman on top of the trends. Shut up yes I am.



The black and white rug was the first purchase towards this goal. An easy $99 dropped at Ikea. It only took a week for Seamus to stomp all over it with dirty paws. It was possibly intentional and certainly unappreciated. But the rug stays. For now.

I've got a few tricks up my sleeve for this lodge proj, including painting the fireplace. By the way, that taupe strip of wall above the brick was originally bright turqoise on our arrival. I took care of it using some leftover paint from the guest bedroom. It goes on record as the only project that took exactly as long as I estimated to complete. No more, no less. It was very refreshing.

I doubt I'll be able to say the same for everything else on the horizon. 

Tiny Los Angeles: Adventures In Toddler Amusement

Obviously I love our son and love being a mom and it's a joy and yaddi yadda and all the things that a parent shouldn't need to say as a preface to any small grievance, however obligated they may feel to do so. But with that out of the way, I have to disclose that on weekends things can get a little tedious around the house. I admire that Oscar can be amused for hours simply patrolling the perimeter of our property. Examining rotting oranges ("anu") that have fallen from the neighbor's tree and into our garden, pointing out dog poop ("da poo"), instructing me to pick up said dog poop, throwing the dog's tennis ball ("sheshe ball"). And then there are the trash cans. Oh, the trash cans. I really do wish that his favorite place to hang out and play wasn't so smelly, teeming with bacteria, and all around unappealing. But he does love a good trash can!

Devin and I take turns dutifully following him from place to place, reporting cute stories to one another during the shift change. But even with all of the attractions our backyard has to offer, there still comes a time when Oscar will stop what he's doing and look at me as if to ask, "Now what?"

Indeed. Now what? What can a family do to get out of the house, but not for too long? (Regretfully, I've allowed the nap to become sacrosanct.) What doesn't cost a lot of money? What place is not only kid-friendly, but tiny-kid-friendly?

In this edition of Tiny Los Angeles: Adventures In Toddler Amusement, I present 3 places that meet the above criteria:

Mother's Beach - Marina Del Rey

The name is not a coincidence. This beach is a mother's dream. Unlike the rest of the ocean beaches with their scary waves, rip tides, sharks and pants-optional homeless population, this secluded beach is on the edge of the marina's calm waters where pretty much nothing happens. Little ones can run and play -- no maternal panic attacks necessary!

 I don't see much reason why'd you'd come to this beach if you didn't have little kids, so it means you're in good company. (Though there are far fewer bikini-clad hotties. Sorry, dads!). Parking is easy because there's a designated public lot. It's about $10 to park, but I'm so brainwashed that seems cheap to me. As a bonus, if you go on Sunday morning, like we did, you'll be treated to the musical stylings of a city church group that meets up to worship in the picnic area and brings a pretty decent sound system. If Jesus isn't your thing, just don't listen too hard to the lyrics, and it's basically 90's R&B. In my opinion, it adds a little something to the whole experience.

Wildlife Learning Center - Sylmar

I first heard about this place from Groupon or Living Social. I thought it looked cool, didn't buy the deal, and forgot about it. A year later, as the parent of an animal fanatic, it popped back into my head.

This is a pretty small animal rescue center with monkeys, foxes, reptiles, porcupines, birds... nothing is over the top exotic, but all the critters are cute. Except a few of the reptiles. And the hissing cockroaches.

 

In my opinion, this is a better place to visit than the Los Angeles Zoo when you still have a tiny tot on your hands. I say this for a few reasons.

1. The barriers are low to the ground so they can see everything. At the zoo, all of the walls are taller than Oscar (fair enough, I realize we're dealing with Sumatran Tigers), so we have to keep lifting him up to see everything. But of course he wants to do things himself. At the Wildlife Learning Center, there are low ropes so kids can get up nice and close to everything. Don't worry, most creatures are also enclosed in cages, but you can get right near the cages and really take a look.

2. Free demonstrations. Every hour or so, a member of the staff brings one of the creatures out for petting and a very quick lesson.

3. It's not crowded. We visited on a weekend afternoon and there were only a few other families present.

4. It's small. You can make the lap around all of the exhibits in about 10 minutes. Then make it again, and again, and again. The zoo is way too sprawling for a pair of little legs to manage, which means the inevitable scenario of carrying a heavy big baby, under the hot sun (why is it always 20 degrees hotter at the zoo?) while pushing an empty stroller because will he ever, ever sit in the thing?

In conclusion, it's only $7 for adults, $6 for kids, and free for kids under 2. And you park on the street near the entrance, which is simple. And also free.

Fashion Square Mall Before 10 AM (11 AM Sundays) - Sherman Oaks

Back when we were in our apartment, we'd all start to feel cooped up and bored by about 9 in the morning. Luckily, we lived a few minutes from the mall, which opens its doors at least a half hour before the stores do. This is ideal because it means that tots can waddle or run down the length of the mall without colliding into shoppers. And because all of the stores' gates are still down, there's no way to divert off course. It's just a straight shot from Bloomingdale's to Macy's and back again.

I'm sure this plan works with almost any mall. Fashion Square gets bonus points, however, because it has some good stuff for kids. There's an indoor play space with a fish tank built into the wall. Also, train rides. And, not that we need it at this point, a family lounge in the restroom area which would be perfect for nursing breaks.

Any of you have suggestions for me? Where should we go next? Leave your comments below.

Little Boy Blue

Editor's note: You should know that I'm seriously backed up on material so I'll be forgoing chronological order for a little while and posting stuff however I see fit and depending on my mood. 

When I tell people we recently bought and moved into a house, one of their first questions is "Did you have to do a lot of work before you moved in?" My standard response, "Well, we had to paint" is often met with a dismissive wave of the hand and a "Oh that's nothing! You're lucky."

Are we? I suppose as far as home ownership goes, we could've bought something that was missing a floor or a wall or, I don't know, indoor plumbing. But for all its outdatedness, the house was always in working order.

It just needed lots of paint. Lots of non-yellow paint.

Incidentally, one of the only rooms that was not yellow was Oscar's.

It was still a hot mess. It was painted white, with one coat, and the color underneath peeked through. That color was, say it with me, YELLOW. There were chips and scuffs a plenty. There were chunks that were completely misguided.

So before moving day, we did our best to get it up to our standard.

It began with a color scheme. I knew I wanted to do more than one color, and while blue was so obvious for a boy's room, it was also the only one I could envision for the space. We picked two shades of blue, worked out which walls would get which, and got to work.

For all of my failures as a packer and mover, I can boast that I've actually gotten the hang of painting. Devin and I both have. With our systematic approach we can get through a room at impressive speeds.

But this wouldn't be worth writing about if there weren't a couple of issues.

First of all, the room didn't have edges.

I first noticed it while I was blue-taping the perimeter. There had been so many poorly applied coats of paint over the years that there was really only the suggestion of a border.  Where did I draw the line? Literally. Was is where the wall actually meets the ceiling, or the half inch in either direction that the current paint job dictated? And what about the windows? As you'll see, the white paint was shlopped over the mark.

Now I had to paint over the white, right? The same problem affected the trim of the room's door and closet door. Except that was yellow, making for a total of 4 colors in the mix, when you count the 2 I'd introduced on purpose.

Then there was the challenge of the corners. I didn't have a plan for painting where the two colors would collide.

I'd paint dark blue, smudging paint onto the opposite wall. Then I'd cover the smudges with light blue as I painted the light blue wall. But I'd accidentally get light blue onto the dark blue. Then I'd go back and get more dark blue to cover the new light blue smudges. And then I'd get more dark blue onto the light blue. It would be an endless cycle if I didn't change my clearly failing approach.

I decided to let the light blue smudges win this round. Then I allowed several hours for the paint to dry. When it finally seemed solid enough, I covered the light blue edges with tape and went back in with the dark blue, working carefully so as not to overdo it and bleed paint under the tape. It was a simple enough plan, and I worked merrily while listening to John Hodgeman's thought-provoking interview on the You Made It Weird podcast.

I've been obsessively listening to podcasts as of late and I'm absorbing so many repeatable tidbits and anecdotes. Although, I can't seem to get comfortable starting off a statement with, "So I heard on this podcast..." If you heard me say that before launching into an a story about controversial rabies treatments, would you take me seriously? I'd really like to know.

Okay, the paint should be dry by now. Let's take a look at the finished job. (Click on the picture for a closer look.)

In real life, if you pay attention, you'd still notice sloppy edges all over the place. It's driving me only slightly crazy. But, I suppose, it IS a baby's room, so a certain degree of mess is to be expected.

Minor Car Repairs

A few weeks ago, I shared the story of my car and how it was falling apart. Then, I did nothing about it whatsoever.

Yesterday I decided that just because the car was crumbling to bits didn't mean that it also had to be filthy, so I went to get it washed. Typically, I'd drive a block from my office to the Presidential Car Wash, where I'd pay for the most basic package --express value something or other.  But because of the broken rearview mirror, I was hesitant to send it through the car wash tunnel with all its spinning brushes and aggressive water streams.

Instead, I went to one of those do-it-yourself car wash places that I've never seen the point of and still don't. Like, for the same price as the express value whatever, you can do all the work yourself and come back from your lunch break redfaced and sweaty, with soaking wet soapy shoes.

But okay. After bumbling my way through the 8-step, 3 brush car-washing process, swiping my credit card for extra time twice, my car was cleanish and I drove into the vacuuming/detailing section.

While leaning over the backseat, shoving the vacuuming wand under the driver's seat and debating if throwing out spare change was bad for one's financial karma, I found myself face to face with the broken center console.

Upon closer examination, I realized that all I really needed to do was click it back into place and attach the round cap to the side and... perfection!

There was only one "extra" piece that I didn't include.

That was surprisingly easy. It begged the question: Was my car's bad condition partially a result of my own neglect? I know, it seems far fetched...

I turned my attention to the dislodged rear view mirror.  After my initial roadside repair with the help of a nearby contractor, I was driving this around:

It held up for about 3 days, until I was driving on the freeway and the tape began to unstick, little by little, until pieces of it were flapping in the breeze as I zoomed along at 70 mph. Afraid the whole thing would come undone and cause a series of catastrophic events ending in a 20-car pile up, I drove for several miles with the window down and my left hand securing the mirror.

As soon as I exited the freeway I found a Walgreens and stopped in to buy some duct tape. They only had black, not the regular gray that's the shade of pencil lead. That's weird, right? I bought it and added another layer of tape in critical areas.

The mirror looked really really stupid by this point. Even worse than before, which I didn't think was possible considering where we began.

At any rate, while at the DIY car wash place, I ripped off all of the tape and started fresh. And, call me crazy, but if you squint a little and don't look directly at it, you don't even notice the tape.

Now on a roll, I worked on the seatbelt holder thingy, which was a little tricky to click back into place, but was once again in working order.

And in a final act of car-loving desperation, I sprung for the Armor All kit ($3.00 in quarters at the vending machine) and wiped down the dashboard.

Using the phrase, "good as new" would be an overstatement here, but the car's looking better than it has in years.

From a distance.

3 Tips For An Easy Move, 2 of Which Didn't Occur To Me Until After The Fact

Over July 4th weekend, exactly 9 years after I landed in Los Angeles, we moved into our very own house. It was the eighteenth time I've moved in my "adult" life, counting every instance since leaving home for college. You'd think I'd be an expert by now.

But instead, I still found myself in the chaotic trappings of my typical move. I threw my belongings into reusable grocery bags while the Uhaul sat in the driveway because when the TV remote, one sock, and crystal light packets are all in one container, everybody wins. I took a sharpie and wrote "shoes" across an untied garbage bag obviously containing shoes, while sealed cardboard boxes of all sizes and weights went unmarked. I could argue that this tactic makes unpacking kind of like unwrapping Christmas gifts, if on Christmas you were to receive all of your same old shit, covered in dust and dog hair, and nestled in a mass of HDMI cables.

Hindsight being the useless blessing that it is, I think that I've finally learned my lesson. It's almost unfortunate that this move was meant to be permanent (at least, for the foreseeable future) because I believe I'd definitely get it right on the next one.

Oh! For example, here's a little gem I heard some better version of myself reciting in my head. TIP #1 "When you move, pack yourself a suitcase like you would for a short vacation. Fill it with essentials like your toothbrush, toiletries, changes of clothes and underwear. That way, even while you're drowning in clutter, you still have everything you need to be comfortable." This came to me as I wore the same filthy clothes for the third day in a row because I hadn't actually managed to transport my wardrobe from the old apartment...yet.

This brings me to my next grievance. On moving day, we enlisted the help of Ryan and Katie, and the 4 of us carried out the task like we were a team on a house-moving game show from the producers of Super Market Sweep. As we raced against the clock (what clock?), we filled the truck not once, but twice. The second truck-load was where things got really dicey. With the furniture out of the way, framed pictures, desk lamps, coasters --whatever we got our hands on-- were just tossed loosely into the truck. At some point, I couldn't stand it any more and announced that I would come back and get everything else out of the apartment at a later time. We still had a week left on our lease. Smart thinking, right?

No? What do you mean no? Ah, right. I probably would never want to go back there ever again and do a second mini move. God damn it, you're a genius. Where were you when I needed you?

Yes, so a week later, we were back in the old apartment gathering even MORE crap that we probably could've just left there for our landlord to toss in the dumpster. I guess this would bring me to TIP #2 for any of you who might be moving soon. "Don't leave anything behind to get later. Just don't."

To conclude on a positive note, there was one successful aspect of the experience: I took time off work to unpack and get settled. It was amazing to see how much I could get done when I'm home alone with Oscar in daycare. All of this time I thought it took months to settle in to a new place. It turns out it takes roughly three days. Never mind that much of this progress was undone by the second wave of moving the following weekend. Let's focus on the good stuff. TIP #3 "Take time off work."

And now that everything we own is under one roof, we can sit back, relax and enjoy our new home. (Haha, just kidding! There's so much more to do that I've actually given myself a stress-induced rash on my arms. Seriously I think I have home-repair hives.) Yes, it's all smooth sailing from here.