festival season

It is my favorite time of year - festival season!  This time of year is perfect for the single ladies as the men walk around in the latest GQ style, the booze is flowing and evening porch sitting is almost expected.

It is also a time for budding romances and bad decisions...

The season kicked off last weekend and looks like it will be going strong for a while.  This year started with a bang as we scored VIP tickets - meaning cheap beer, sort skirts, sunshine and late night pizza. 

As with every spring love is in the air.  Everywhere you look everyone is in love to the point where it is almost gross - people walking around holding hands, kissing mid-conversation, giggling, and Barry White all play a big part of spring.  As the weather warms up this love either grows into something or people realize they made some bad porch-drinking decisions.

The truth is - I am in love with love.  I can't get enough of it...

I love the butterflies and hand-holding and over-the-top mush found in the movies.  I love the giddiness that comes with those first few weeks of dating (and I miss the note passing "Do you like me? Check YES or NO" of loves from long ago.

That is why festival season is so great - you get to venture out and enjoy being in love with everything, every weekend for weeks on end!  You get to fall in love with your city, watch new love budding in the air, eat corn dogs (who doesn't love that?!) and fall in love with love, over and over! 

So, here's to festival season.  May it be filled with endless laughter, hand-holding, flowing dresses, first kisses, and bad decisions that we don't regret the next day.  Here's to being in love with spring. 

crawfish and my future husband

This weekend I was invited to a good ol' fashioned crawfish boil.  Unsure of what to expect I packed by cooler with vodka-lemonade (which in reality was just a big ol' bag of vodka, water and some crystal light), called my best friend and prepped for what was to be a fabulous evening with strangers.

It should be noted that I called by best friend at 2PM, I was showered, pretty and had the dog walked by 2:30PM and was out on the porch waiting from him by 2:35PM.  When I called to say I was ready he wasn't even dressed yet.

As luck would have it I had a chair, a bag of vodka and a cup, so I justified a 2:35PM cocktail by telling myself someone had to sample the vodka before the party...

One cocktail later my friend showed up and we went on our way.  Traffic was horrid and we finally arrived at the party, vodka in-hand, around 4PM.  There was already tons of crawfish piled on a table, with all sorts of veggies, a cooler of beer and a delightful strawberry-basil-lemonade for my wonderful bag of vodka.

Having never attempted to eat a crawfish I naturally dove right in.  Snapping tails, peeling shell and ending up with the tiniest piece of protein I have ever seen.  I am pretty convinced you burn more calories getting the suckers open than you do actually consuming them.  After a dozen or-so I grew bored of the creatures and ventured to sit in the sun with a cocktail in hand.

And then a southern gentlemen sat at the table of crawfish and taught me the art of eating a freshly boiled crawfish.

Who knew shellfish could be a turn-on?!  He never peeled the shells, he simply snapped the tiny lobster-like crustaceans and sucked.  Tail, brains and even claws.  Someone noticed me staring and asked what was so interesting - I giggled and pointed out the man, his pile of shells and told her to just watch.  Soon all of us were mesmerized.  We must have watched him for three cocktails as we giggled and blushed over his crawfish skills.

And that, dear friends, is how I decided my future husband must be able to properly eat a crawfish.  (Thinking about it still makes me blush)

of number eighty eight

He was a football player and when they named his position they sure got it right - tight end.  I was a sophomore in college, hanging out with our football team's center and he was fully aware of my crush.  I can still remember what I wore that night - a white tank top that showed off my toned shoulders, cropped jeans from Ambercrombie, black rocket dogs and my hair was in perfect Miami curls.  The center and I had ventured out with my roommates and were at the local hot spots.

The night was full of giggling and flirting. 

The center and I danced, joked about life and what we would be when we were old.  We might have even solved some of the world's problems that night.  As we went to leave from one location I was sparkling and enjoying the Miami heat and great company.

And then I met the tight end.

He was tall, blonde, perfect blue eyes and overall scrumptious.  As he walked towards us I am pretty sure I felt my knees go weak (and being in sandals it couldn't have been me being wobbly on high heels, it had to be love).  The center said he had someone he wanted me to meet and as I smiled and went to shake his hand my alter-ego took over.

And then I bit him...

That's right folks - this "man of my dreams" first interaction with me was me nibbling on his hand - I am sure he just looked so scrumptious it was inevitable...  I remember giggling like a school-girl and saying "yep, that just happened" but I have no other explanation for my actions that night.  A silly friendship grew out of that bite, my crush continued, the football team continued to win and I had a wonderfully embarrassing story to laugh at for the rest of my life.

And then he went pro, got tattoos, is now married and I am single, sparking and sharing my silly story with the world.

While the girl with the school-girl crush was a little devastated to learn of his recent nuptials, I am sure it is for the best - he would have grown tired of my sparkle and I would have grown tired of his foul mouth and bachelor ways.

serendipity in 26.2 miles

Me running a marathon happened rather by accident, and in 208 days I will again accidentally run 26.2 miles with my best friend.

But let's be honest - it's 26.2 miles of men in uniform as we run around Washington DC for the Marine Corps Marathon. My decision to run a marathon happened rather serendipitously and was caused by a breakup.

Four years ago a dear friend and sorority sister came back into my life. I believe the email read "just broke up with boyfriend, devastated, will you run a marathon with me?" There was no was I could say no. Out of marathon training - which consists of giving up your Friday nights so you can partake in a long run Saturday morning - grew a priceless friendship.

Living in separate states we emailed horror stories of training, talked eachother out of pizza cravings and laughed a lot at eachother. One might be curious how I was talked into running for hours and hours - simply put, my friend introduced me to vodka. You apparently don't have to worry about vodka calories like you do beer calories. And that, my friends, is where my love affair with vodka started (to see how it nearly ended please read last post).

I, of course, was single at the time and was convinced I'd fall in love with a Marine, preferably before I wanted to die around mile 25.2.

Months of training, endless laughs and a gazillion tears later we took on the nation's Capitol. I never did fall in love with a Marine...

Four years later this marathon has reconnected me with friends, pushed my focus during breakups to more important things and given way to some awesome celebrations. In 208 days we return - both a little stronger, both single and both willing to chase after love for 26.2 miles. (And to celebrate that I'm going to treat myself to a porch drink - vodka of course).