Court

I've had a startling revelation. The boring definition of my name, Courtney, is "of the court." For years I've thought this far from descriptive of me. I am no where near a representative of a king's court, the legal courts, tennis or basketball courts. However; I realized recently that I am of a court and I don't know why I didn't think of this sooner. It all became clear to me when a friend suggested we eat at the food court in the Ronald Reagan building. Then it all made sense. I am Courtney - of the FOOD court.

Cookie Dough Decision

Sometimes the articles in the Church magazines really speak to me. I read this and knew exactly what this girl was talking about. It is found under the "Trying to Be Like Jesus" section of the February 2008 Friend.
"One night, I was planning on waking up early in the morning so I could eat the rest of the cookie dough left in the fridge. The next day, I woke up before 6:00 in the morning, but then I stopped and thought about what Jesus would do. I decided not to eat the rest of the cookie dough. At breakfast I told my mom what I had wanted to do. She wasn't angry and understood. I repented about the cookie dough, and I was happy to know the Heavenly Father understood too." From Sarah P., age 8.

I don't know

"I don't know." Its a phrase I've said and heard a lot lately. Mostly in reference to my future. I hate hearing it. I hate saying it. And I hate feeling it. But when it all comes down to it, I don't know. There are a few things in my life I do know. The rest is uncertain. I hate to make decisions. I'm terrible at it. I always want some one to just tell me what to do. But God is much wiser than that and allows me to make decisions, or leaps of faith rather, and once I've taken a step into the darkness, He lets me know if it was the right step. There have been many times I've chosen not to act because I didn't know "for sure." Those times have been some of my biggest regrets. I've missed out on too many things because I was waiting for a sign to point the direction to go. Or I was too afraid of failing to even try. Usually if I don't know, then I don't act. I sit complacent with my lack of direction and ambition. I heard and or said "I don't know" to one too many people this week and I've decided its time to know. Time to act. I'm never gonna know if I don't try right? So here goes nothing. Time to grab the bull by the horns! First act is to figure out what I'm doing with my future. This is my biggest "I don't know," but also the one I'm in the most control of. So... does anyone have any suggestions?

The finer things in life

Food. Food is one of the finer things in life. Good food, that is. Last week Washington DC celebrated "Restaurant Week." Restaurant Week involves many of DC's fancy schmancy and expensive restaurants offering 3 course meals on a pre-fixed price of $20.08 for lunch and $30.08 for dinner. These places are usually well beyond my budget, so this is a great deal. I was able to go to the Fourth Estate Restaurant at the National Press Club as well as Georgetown's own 1789. These are the kinds of restaurants where the valet helps you out of the car, the waiter scoots in your chair, and you have to know the difference between a salad fork and a dinner fork. Both meals were delicious and the atmospheres were elegant. I felt like a real socialite eating at such fine establishments.

Tonight I am again heading out with my friends to eat at a fine establishment. Bob Evans. I love Bob Evans. Love it. (For those of you in the West, Bob Evans is a family diner. Much like Denny's or Village Inn only its like 1 millions times better.) I've been excited for this outing all week. Probably more excited than for my meals last week. My good friends, the Little Truckers, and I started a tradition of dining at Bob Evans on our first trip to somewhere. (The Little Truckers have decreed that we will take an annual trip somewhere until we die. DIE.) It quickly became one of our favorite places to stop. While 2 of my Little Truckers have since moved out of DC, one will be in town this week and 3 of the Little Truckers will be heading to Bob Evans tonight and can't wait.

Our dear friend Mr. Bob Evans passed away in June and I wrote this poem to commemorate his life and our loss.


Ode to Bob…

Dear Mr Evans we’re your number one fans!
To celebrate your life we lend you our hands.
I’ll always treasure the fond memories we shared
And the many fine meals for me you prepared.
Turkey dinner and mashed potatoes,
Fresh house salad with tomatoes,
40 cents more for bacon and cheese.
Your Oreo pie makes me weak in the knees.
Flakey biscuits with butter and jam,
Eggs and hash browns with a slice of ham.
Fresh from the oven come your buttery rolls.
“Bob’s Sausage Chili” fills up our bowls.
You’ve now gone on to the life hereafter
And we morn the loss of a culinary master!
So raise your glass and grab the Pepto
To Bob, whose food we love and know.

Mom's gonna kill me!

We finally got some snow in Washington DC yesterday. Huge fluffy flakes were falling all morning. When a sufficient amount of snow had blanketed the back yard, I dressed my niece up in the essential snow gear and we headed outside. I showed her how to make and throw snowballs so we would be ready when her mom came out to join us. It wasn't too long before that Bean was outside ready for a fight. (Anyone who knows Bean knows that she can't resist any opportunity to soak her friends and loved ones.) We couldn't play too rough because Gaga was with us but we each got a few good hits in. In a final attempt to maintain my "big sister" status, I lobbed a well aimed snowball at Bean's head. She looked up just in time to get hit in the face. As I watched her glasses fly off my first thought was, "Uh oh Mom's gonna kill me!" Fortunately the glasses weren't broken and Mom lives 2,000 miles away. 20 years ago I would've gotten the wooden spoon for sure. Good thing I'm all grown up now.

Is that Pat Benatar?

I knew Monday at work it was time for a hair cut when every time I looked in the bathroom mirror, I wished I hadn't. I would see my reflection and sneer at the shapeless mass of brown hair hanging out of my head. After repeated sneerings and failed attempts with bobbie pins and rubber-bands to improve said mass, I called Bubbles for a 4:30 appointment. "It doesn't matter with who, I just need a haircut." 4:30 with Dawn. When I arrived at the salon a very tall and thin male hairdresser with lightening bolts bleached in either side of his head asked Honey if he could help her. "Oh me?!" Yeah apparently I'm Honey. He said he would let Dawn know I was there. When I sat down with Dawn I explained that I wanted the same haircut I had 4 months ago, it just needed to be trimmed and cleaned up. I also explained to her that I have aleopecia areata and that I lose random patches of hair. I could tell she didn't know what I was talking about when she asked in broken english if my hair had broken off upon my showing her my random bald spot. We settled on her cutting about an inch off. After the shampoo, Dawn proceeded with the cut and as I watched 3 inches of my hair falling to the floor I began to wonder how they measure inches in the Oriental country Dawn was from. I watched my hair fall to the floor and hoped it would all turn out ok when it was dry and styled. No such luck. After all was said and done, I ended up with what looks like a grown out mullet. Generally after the soccer mom like styling indigenous to hair salons I leave wanting to put on some cotton culottes and cruise in my minivan. However, this day I wanted to put on my Van Halen t-shirt and gas up the Thunderbird. Lets hope it grows out soon.

Oh what a beautiful day!

Today was amazing! What felt like Spring crept into Washington DC with record breaking highs of 73 degrees. I wore a skirt and short sleeves outside IN JANUARY! I can't stay inside on days like this and was out the door as soon as my lunch hour hit. I love working in the district and so close to the mall. I love the people in this city. Like the guy with 2 braids for a goatee and dog paws tattooed on his left calf holding the leash of the biggest rottweiler I've ever seen, wearing a spike collar no less (the dog that is, although I wouldn't put it past the man). Or the Redskins fan on the bike who told me he liked my hair as he rode by. Or the lost family with the map and cameras asking me where the Vietnam memorial was. Or that bum panhandling with a Frisbee instead of a cup. Or that guy selling hot dogs from his cart. I REALLY like that guy. They are all faces of Washington DC and I love it. On days like this one of my favorite things in the whole wide world is to walk from my office to the Lincoln Memorial and read the Gettysburg address. It really is inspiring. The Lincoln Memorial is one of my favorite spots in DC. I love climbing the steps and feeling like Rocky. I love the view of the entire Mall from the top of those steps. They have taken the fence down around the building and I was able for the first time to walk completely around it. From the south side you can look across Memorial Bridge and see the house of Robert E Lee overlooking Arlington Cemetery. It was a new view for me and I wish I could've taken more time to appreciate it, but alas one must go back to work and leave the beautiful day outside. Jobs are totally over rated.

A little piece of Hell

I HATE the DMV, or as they call in in Maryland the MVA. I spent 2 and a half hours there yesterday and wanted to stab my eyes out. If I ever go crazy I want it to be said that I went DMV not postal. I don't mind the post office.