Malaland

DC to NYC to DC to NYC to DC to NYC

On Thursday I spent the day in Harlem. I had some work to do for a client so I was on-site. It was my first visit to NYC this year and it was long over-due. Granted it was only for the day so I didn't bother contacting any of my friends ahead of time.

I took the 6:00 a.m. Acela Express from Union Station to Penn Station. Three short hours later I was riding in rush hour traffic, breathing in the hectic pace of the Big Apple.

I sat through meetings, met with different project managers, listened to paradigm shifts and learned all about their capacity building, worked out the details for a press conference and boarded a train for home at 7:00 p.m.

Then, on Saturday, I got a call. A problem. I had to travel to NYC... they needed me onsite again. On Sunday.

So I boarded the 6:00 a.m. train, did what I could on-site (which I could have done from home), and was back in DC by 10:00 p.m.

On Monday, the client determined that I absolutely, positively needed to be on-site again for the one hour press event the next day (today). Mind you, when I negotiated the contract, I had recommended that they might want to consider just having me in New York the entire week prior to their announcement.

So sure enough.... I woke up at the ungodly hour of 3:00 AM to catch the 5:00 AM Acela to NYC. When I arrived on-site at 8:30 no one was there. So I wandered around a bit, found a diner that sold a decent cup of coffee, returned to the headquarters to learn that nothing was done. I scrambled around for three hours - photocopying materials, printing bios, and throwing press kits together.

Finally (FINALLY) the event took place and I boarded the 5:00 p.m. train back to DC.

This is the perfect example of poor planning.

The client spent $1000 on train tickets when they could have flown me into the city, put me up in a hotel for four or five nights, and had me on-site the entire time. We could have avoided the last minute panic attacks and hustle & bustle.

And now I'm stressed. The laundry room in my apartment building has been full all night. SO now I'll be waking up at 6:00 a.m. to do three loads of laundry and pack and rush to the airport.

I need time to mentally prepare to deal with the relatives. Instead, I barely know what day it is and cannot believe Thanksgiving is in 48 hours. How did this happen? I thought I had at least another week to brace myself for five days of family fun.

Anyway - today's lesson is -- when trying to scrimp and save, try to look at the big picture and listen carefully to the advice provided by your consultant. She's really not trying to scam a free ttrip out of you, but thinking of her own sanity and your overall budget.      

I had a secret

This tiny unassuming pizza joint made the best grilled chicken salad on Earth. That's right - on the entire planet.

I'm addicted to Giorgio's grilled chicken salads. Two, three times a week, I'd call in my order for pickup.

One grilled chicken salad, no olives, extra peppers.

My mouth is watering just thinking of it.

Two weeks ago Giorgio's closed. I think. The number rings and rings. But it doesn't look like they're closed. There isn't an official sign that says they're gone forever. Cans of soda still sit in the refrigerators along the back wall.

It's like everyone went on vacation for two weeks. And forgot to tell the neighbors a.k.a. customers.

But it doesn't change the fact that I can't get my salad.

Now I've tried others. I ordered the Shanghai chicken salad from Cosi - which was alright. I went into DC Cafe and ordered their version of the grilled chicken salad, only to be sourly disappointed. I've tried California Pizza Kitchen and Bertucci's.

Then I went upscale... to Levante's, to Daily Grill, to Spezie. But alas, none compare to Giorgio's.

To all the Washingtonians out there...... can anyone recommend a place to get a good grilled chicken salad?

Sweating in November

It's too bloody HOT!

What is up with this weather? It's 70 degrees in November. This is not normal.

Unfortunately, back in October, my entire building converted from air conditioning to heat. So now, it's 80 degrees in my apartment and I can't sleep. There are three fans whirring away on high and I'm still sweating.

The weatherman just warned it might get cool on Thursday. I say bring it on!

Home for the holidays

My lovely travel fantasies have been for naught.

I'll be traveling to Massachusetts for the Thanksgiving AND Christmas holidays. 

I love my family. I do. I especially miss my baby niece and can't wait to see her.

Yet, given the choice, I'd rather spend these holidays traveling through the Mediterranean and north Africa (sigh).

But I'd be the bad guy... the selfish, cold-hearted, evil daughter/granddaughter/sister/aunt/cousin if I didn't travel north for the holidays.

Usually I go up for Christmas. This year I'll be making an appearance at both.

And here's what kills me. My wonderful family doesn't travel to visit me. Oh they did... parents, brothers, aunts, uncles, and a myriad of cousins made annual treks down to DC... but after five years of touring the monuments they soon got bored. Now it's too far, too expensive, too inconvenient for any of them to visit me.

So it's up to me to go to them.

After all, I'm the one who moved away.... the one who abandoned the family.... who doesn't love them enough to be close by. 

Not to mention I'M the single one. So how difficult is it really for me to pay for plane tickets and cabs? After all it's not like I'm paying down a mortgage or packing up kids or buying groceries for five. 

I must have been completely out of my mind a couple months ago!

I'm just feeling a little bitter about giving up my Italian holiday for another hectic, chaotic, emotionally turbulent, familyfull week.

And while I should be counting my blessings that I've got all these loud and crazy family members to visit, what I'm craving is a little quiet time in an exotic setting. 

Passing the time

It was supposed to rain.

So instead of meeting for a run, we met for decaf lattes.

Coffee shops, or cafes, are an integral part of my life. I run in and out of them at least three times a day and freak out a little when I visit a place without one.

I remember getting stuck someplace in Tennessee for a week with no coffee shops. It was insane. There was a pizza hut and a few greasy diners but no coffee shop. At the very minimum I expected a Dunkin Donuts - but I was in the middle of nowhere surrounded by hills.

Some of my best conversations, most memorable "Aha" moments, occurred in a coffee shop. I often meet people in cafes and remember the ones I visited in Amsterdam and Paris and Lisbon and Glasgow. 

Here in DC there are few independent coffee shops left and almost every city block houses one of the chains - Starbucks or Cosi or Caribou. But I prefer Soho (on the corner of 22nd and P Streets NW) or Kramerbooks in Dupont Circle. 

So three coffees later, we parted company at the entrance of one of DC's many Cosis. And although our two-hour conversation was already turning into a fond memory, I couldn't think of a better way of passing the time.

Derailed

Saturday night was low-key to balance out the previous night's debauchery. I met friends out in Georgetown for Derailed and was supremely disappointed.

The plot was predictable (esp. after reading reviews and interviews where Aniston emphasizes she took the role because the character was so far removed from what she usually portrays). The ending was ridiculous.

There was so much that could have gone right. It could have been a great film.

But it isn't.

Save you're cash and rent this one instead. 

Is it me... or has this year supremely sucked for movie buffs? Has anything come out this year that was really worth seeing on the Big Screen? Am I being too judgmental?

Fragments of a night out

I drifted in and out of sleep from about 3:30 a.m. til the phone rang at 10:00 a.m. It was Casey, my best friend.

"You were in rare form last night."

"Well good morning to you too."

"You grabbed some guy on the sidewalk and dragged him to the Irish Channel."

"WHAT?!!?!!"

"Don't you remember?"

<MALA groans into pillow and tries to disentangle self from sheets>

"Wait - we met him at DC Chophouse."

"We weren't at the Chopper."

"Oh yeah... we were. We went there after Poste. And then it all gets a little hazy."

"Well, you met that guy Daniel on the street."

"HOW did I just meet some guy on the sidewalk?"

"Not sure... he came out of the MCI Center.... some game."

"Did I give him my number?"

"Uhhhhhh... yeah you did - Hahaha - but you wrote it down with the spy pen."

"Invisible ink? And he didn't notice?"

"You folded the napkin into a tiny square and we ditched him before we got to Fado."

<Groans loudly as memories from Fado flood murky mind>

"Your brother's friends were all there."

"Oh yeah."

"We acted like asses."

"We went dancing at midnight."

<GASPS>

"I blame it all on those martinis at Zola."

"Right. So. What's on deck for tonight?"

This is my brain on work

It's only November 9 - yet I feel today should be near the end of the month... like I've crammed four weeks worth of work into nine days. And it's not over yet.

I've been writing and editing and working on four events and talking to reporters about three very different topics. At night I can't turn my mind off!

I lay in bed and toss and turn and make mental lists of all the things I absolutely positively must get done before the end of the day. I make these lists before the day even begins.

The one thing I keep putting off is laundry. I must do laundry... but tonight when I plopped down on my living room couch, I just couldn't motivate to sort clothes and lug everything to the laundry room. Instead I sat for about five minutes and looked from the newly arrived Netflix envelope to The Stories of English by David Crystal. The DVD won out.

So I vegetated for a little while and watched Heights. Not bad, not great, but just right for tonight. Though my viewing pleasure was constantly interrupted.....

Isabel walks out of her apartment with camera in hand. "Don't forget to find videographer in NYC."

Jonathan pulls out a pack of cigarettes hidden in kitchen cupboard. "I could soooo go for one of those... no, no, cigarettes are bad, you've done so well, you do NOT WANT TO SMOKE."

The gay guy gets a fax from his cheating boyfriend. "Must remember to fax ornery scientist at Harvard first thing tomorrow morning."

James Marsden is shirtless in his cramped New York apartment. "Hellllllo James Marsden."

Back to laundry... I hate doing laundry. DC needs a laundry service like the ones in NYC. My pals in Manhattan send their laundry out. I let my laundry pile up til I I'm left with two options.....

1. Suck it up and spend six hours doing ten loads of laundry.

OR

2. Run out to Filene's Basement to buy a weeks worth of underwear and a few new outfits.

Though option number 2 is clearly the more expensive choice, I'm not proud to admit that seven times out of ten I'm shopping for new duds.

So tomorrow will be my laundry day from hell. And from now on I'll make time to wash clothes once a week instead of waiting until there's nothing left hanging to wear in my closet. (yeah... right...)

Days like these I wish I lived across the river

As a Washingtonian, I've been inundated with the ads, the accusations, the insults and have been jonesing to cast a vote in this race.

I miss being able to vote! A lot!

Anyway - mentally I kept casting votes for him and am glad to see he won the election. YAH!

An addiction

I found this site a few days ago and cannot stop playing around on it.