12 days of Christmas movies, 3 days of Marilyn, and 2 days of Jeff & Liz

In a nutshell, that was my holiday season. I tortured Anthony and the kids with all the fluffity-happy Christmas movies they could stomach before escaping to North Carolina, and then I spent the last 3 days of the Christmas season “Jew-ing it up,” as it were. The Sunday before Christmas, Marilyn treated a few of us to a home-cooked meal with a side of bronchitis (or whatever other awful-sounding affliction she has). The theme of the evening was “stuffed” – stuffed mushrooms, stuffed peppers, and, most importantly, stuffed chocolate chip cookies. If you know Marilyn (or even if you don’t), you should tell her how you really need to have a couple dozen chocolate chip cookies stuffed with Reese’s peanutbutter cups (unless, of course, you’re Eric; then that would be baaaad). They are the most divine baked good to be introduced to my palate this holiday season! (Although I have to admit that the cheesecake my coworker Charles concocts for the annual work holiday party and some other coworker’s cherry pie are close seconds – tying for second place because the two should be eaten together.)

Christmas Eve was spent in Annandale at Il Mee, a great little Korean BBQ joint that caters to a mostly Asian clientele – except on Christmas Eve, when it also catered to seven Jewish friends and little ol’ me. I recommend the spiced beef and I also suggest that you not let your food burn on the tableside grill (something about all 8 of us leaving smelling like Korean BBQ).

We then drove out to Tyson’s Corner to see Charlie Wilson’s War. My honest opinion can be summed up in a single word, even a single syllable: meh. The most brilliant thing about the movie is Phillip Seymour Hoffman, as usual. Tom Hanks was a poor choice for a womanizing, partying senator from the south, and every time Julia Roberts was onscreen, I just wanted to reach across and rip off that godawful blond wig. There were a few amusing dialogue exchanges in there (for example, Tom Hanks saying, “For Christ’s sake, will you help us?” to his Israeli associate who is supposed to help him get a coalition of Arab nations to work together to provide the Afghanis with the appropriate weaponry to fight the Russian army), but I am a little surprised at all the Golden Globe nominations this movie is racking up. I wasn’t bored by any means, but I also wasn’t riveted. Like I said, meh. (On the Netflix rating scale, the movie would rate 3 stars.)

Christmas Day itself was spent painting my bedroom (shhh! Don’t tell Anthony; it’s a surprise!) and then joining Marilyn and another crew of her Jewish friends at the E Street Theatre to watch Juno. This is another 3-star movie pick. It could have been a really, super fantastic movie because the story line was good, but it felt a little amateur so I didn’t fall in love with it. The movie starts out with a handful of characters: Juno, her stepmom, her father, her little sister, her best female friend, and her best male friend. The majority of the characters are written so they all feel like the same person – a rookie writer mistake, no doubt. Then the best male friend (Michael Cera from Superbad) is totally underdeveloped. I would be surprised if he was given more than five lines through the whole movie. Yes, he gets to run around in his hot shorts (read: track shorts) and wear a headband throughout the movie, but he barely says anything. The other characters in the movie portray him as not-too-swift, the kind of guy who doesn’t have an original idea in his head, but he is also simultaneously smart in school. Anyway, he melts into the wall and we’re somehow supposed to believe that this guy is Juno’s love interest.

The good news is that the movie improves dramatically after the adoptive parents are introduced (Jennifer Garner and Jason Bateman). All of a sudden, the whole cast of characters get individual personalities. And somehow, near the end, Juno tranforms from this sarcastic, Napolean Dynamite type character into a deeper, more emotional member of the human race. (Although, to be nitpicky, the transformation was not well-done; when she cries, you sort of empathize with her situation but the movie doesn’t pull you in and make you feel like crying with her.)

Anyway, I recommend Juno far more highly than Charlie Wilson’s War. Like I said, the storyline of Juno had so much potential, and the actors really carry this movie through to the end. You will feel invested in the lives and stories of the characters.

Oh, as an aside: 3 Doors Down needs to fire its agent. That flippin’ National Guard music video that is running as part of movie previews these days is a joke. Instead of coming across as supportive of the troops, it comes across as a shallow advertisement that really doesn’t do justice to the brave men and women who have fought and continue to fight for our freedoms. It’s a ridiculous ploy to sell albums and it reeks of bad judgment. (Okay, so the rights to the video are actually owned by the National Guard, but that doesn’t make it any better in my opinion. The video is still cheesy and I feel it makes a mockery of the sacrifices of generations of soldiers.)

So yes, where was I? Ah, sangria! We found ourselves at La Tosca after the movie, surrounded by pitchers of sangria. Then we wandered over to Eat First in Chinatown. The service was awful (I basically had to punch the waitstaff to get their attention) and the food was middling to average, but good times were had by all. Especially by Marilyn, who extolled the virtues of a lazy susan for a full day leading up to the event.

And that, my friends, has been my Christmas thus far. The rest of Christmas is expected to occur sometime on Saturday, when my Anthony returns from his southern travels. I’ll tell you all about the gifting sometime after then.

In the meantime, I’m putting in my request to Mother Nature for some freakin’ snow already. This sixty degree weather and rain is starting to grate on my last nerve (just like the constant mewing of the cat – gosh!).

Christmas is a time of joy

Or torture. Whichever is more entertaining.

FREEEEEEEEEEEEEEDDDDDDOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!!...

This semester felt like a prison sentence, but as of midnight yesterday, I dotted my last "i," crossed my last "t," and submitted my last take-home final. I now have approximately six school-free weeks to enjoy.You would think I would be content to finally sit back, relax, and enjoy the last two seasons of Gilmore Girls on dvd, but the world waits for no woman. I have plans. Lots and lots of plans. Right after I get all that Christmas shopping (and decorating!) done.

Yesterday Anthony and I bought our Christmas tree and he strung thelights while I pretended I could sing along to Johnny Cash's andMartin Sexton's caroling. We also tortured the furry children when were-discovered their Christmas costumes from last year – the Santa capeand booties for Grace, and the red and black sweater for Pookie. I can't even begin to tell you the hilarity that ensues when you put ourcat into clothing. It's like he is retarded. He can't walk. Which means he can't run away either. It's pure unadulterated misery forhim to endure, and I LOVE EVERY SECOND OF IT. So much so that we hadto knock on the neighbors' door to have Chris partake of the Christmasspirit (which is somehow so beautifully connected to Pookie beingthrust into a Christmas sweater).

(As a run-up to the Twelve Days of Christmas Movies, which launches ina few days…) Tonight we plan to finish Christmas-izing the condo soAnthony can enjoy it's gloriousness for a week and a half before he forsakes me for the wild, warm yonder of North Carolina. Then I can repent all the material extravagance of the season by converting to Judaism and spending Christmas Eve with my friends for Korean BBQ, andthen Christmas Day with Chinese food and movies. Being Jewish rocks, man.

In the meantime, I plan to paint the bedroom – the final frontier, asI like to think of it. Anthony has already suffered through me painting the living room and the office, and now he gets to sneak away while I take care of the bedroom. He will barely recognize the placewhen he gets back. It'll be awesome.

I also have plans to continue my search for jobs and internships inLima, Peru. I wish it were easier, but Martha can back me up and attest to the difficulties associated with working abroad. My circumstance makes life a little more difficult, in that I actually need to have a job of some substance so I can convert it into an internship credit to finish out my degree. I guess that rockin' job as secretary at the embassy is out. We'll see where my search gets me, and I will keep you updated when I can.

But, speaking of school, it looks like I'm in the home stretch. I signed up for my last three required classes for the spring semester –Ethics (HA!), Intro to Public Administration (clearly something I was supposed to take a year and a half ago, when I started this program),and my second methods course. I just finished my first methods course– Statistics – and am currently registered for Statistics II, but am advocating for a slot in the closed section of Program Evaluation. I figure I can pull the "pity me" card and point out the fact that I am leaving for Lima next summer and won't ever have the opportunity to take the course again, but I am leaving nothing to chance. I maintain my waitlist position for the course, but am signed up for Stat II(grumble, grumble). We'll see how far my charm and charisma get me.

Otherwise, things are pretty great on the home front. Anthony would say they're "freakin' awesome!" – but that's only because he no longer has to be my housemaid (all that meal planning, cooking and dish-washing was really getting to him). School is out and I can now partake of the household responsibilities. Life is pretty damn spiffy.

All the things you missed by not insisting that I write

November is my favorite month because it has the best holiday ever created: Thanksgiving. It is one of the few holidays that our consumption-driven society has not yet ruined, and this is obviated by the fact that your local stores move immediately from Halloween decorations to Christmas decorations with no real stop in between for all those horns-a-plenty and turkey themed candy dishes. The retail powers that be have not yet figured out a way to cash in on Turkey Day and that means that we still have a holiday that derives its merit simply from gathering all your friends and family together in one spot for a nice, home-cooked meal. As I am fond of saying, any holiday that is centered on food is my favorite holiday!

As is my custom, I flew home for Thanksgiving to glory in my Masshole roots. Anthony (the poor schmuck) decided against the hassle of planning for the furry children and instead drove the whole furry crew from DC to MA. While Thanksgiving is traditionally the worst time of year to attempt long drives and still maintain your sanity, he somehow managed to drive to da' Momma's house in under 8 hours, and then drove back to our house in 7 hours. My self-satisfaction in my ability to plan in advance and mean-spirited joy in looking forward to being able to say, "I told you so," in regards to New England traffic and Thanksgiving were both completely foiled by Anthony's feat. It seems that the traffic gods were on his side this year. I guess that is what happens when you consent to bend to your girlfriend's will only once every three years.

The family was duly excited by Anthony's visit. I'm old hat, but Anthony's last Thanksgiving in Massachusetts occurred in 2004. Apparently, the one introduction barely sufficed to hold them over for the past three years. da' Momma spent the whole week proclaiming that, "Anthony cannot marry my daughter!" And then my Auntie Thomas would pull me aside and tell me, "If you don't marry Anthony, I will." So you now have a slight inkling what my family's intentions are for him. The amazing thing is that he hasn't run off screaming into the wilderness yet.

The month of November also witnessed another one of my favorite yearly traditions: the celebration of my birthday. And like any good six-year-old would, I hosted my very own ice cream party. Oh yes, most of my friends complained bitterly about having to tote a pint of ice cream up that whole flight of stairs, when, my god woman!, that was the space they were planning on devoting to their second case of beer. Pure, unadulterated catastrophe, I tell ya.

Although the purchase of ice cream did not slow down the beer consumption one bit. The whole toasted crew spent the hour between eleven thirty and twelve thirty trying to convince me that we all needed to go out to a bar, when I was perfectly convinced that there was still enough alcohol in the apartment to get them so mindnumbingly
drunk that they would all pass out and it would FINALLY be quiet enough for me to get some homework done. Which, might I add, was the whole reason I opted for the more childish birthday option of celebrating with ice cream instead of dirty Girl Scout shots. These days I am a curmudgeon, but I am a curmudgeon with a 4.0. Nyah.

More seriously though, it was good to see people and listen to Ben tell one unfunny joke after another (Stephanie just would NOT believe that jokes could be that not funny). Thanks to all you crazy kids for helping me ring in another year with stories of moosecock and fungor (sp?). Oh, and Andrew, that Heath bar was AWESOME. It was the best breakfast I've had in ages.

Since I've been back in DC, I have of course been eating ice cream sundaes every night and working maniacally to catch up on the school work I failed to do over Thanksgiving. There are less than two weeks left to the semester and so much cramming to do!

In honor of my birthday

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Myyyyyyyy liiiiiiiiiiiife…is a very, very, very fine life…

You and I both know the excuses I have for not writing often, so we’ll skip that portion of this blog and move straight on to the sweet nothings that I am wont to write.

The past few weeks have been, in a word, busy. Last weekend Anthony’s dad drove to DC for a visit, and the two weekends prior were devoted to visiting Preyasha at UVA (can I get a shout out for Martha, another UVA grad?) and giving me a heart attack at Philadelphia’s Eastern State Penitentiary.

So it was all that and graduate school, too. I spent most of the past weekend ignoring Anthony’s dad (sorry, Jeff) and researching security contractors in Iraq for a pro-con debate in my Third Party Governance class (which sounds just about as exciting as it is – unfortunately, it’s pretty darn useful, too; Damn you grad school! Damn you for being practical!). Greg, my fellow classmate, and I presented our whole “Despite-that-recent-Blackwater-incident-private-security-contracting-is-a-great-idea” argument Wednesday night. I think we did a good job of covering the basic concepts, but there is so much information on the subject and we were allotted a mere ten minutes in which to squish it. Even the Micro Machines man could not have expressed in ten minutes all the reasons why contracting in Iraq is essential. It’s a murky issue to manage and we public servants (this, despite the fact that I work for private industry) have to learn how to address the problems of contracting.

In any case, I worked really hard on this presentation and now I am glad it’s over. This class remains frustrating because, no matter how much time and effort I put into it, I still feel like I do not understand all the issues. Of course, this is the same class that is killing me slowly over the course of a semester so I shouldn’t be all that surprised. My other class, statistics, is a walk in the park, comparatively.

Anyway, my life really is that damn exciting.

Otherwise, the puppy is still in her cast, Pookie is still driving us nuts with all the talking, the Caribbean is still suffering from a tropical storm, California is still traumatized by fire, the Red Sox won the World Series (or so Andrew – my one link to the real world – tells me), Barak Obama danced on the Ellen Degeneres Show (maybe a new angle that all presidential hopefuls will try to emulate?), Jane Seymour has food poisoning, and a partridge still sits in a pear tree.

Photos from the past coupla' weeks