The Myth of Fingerprints

(...or more like All Around the World!)

Last week/this week was certainly a logistical whirlwind, and I fall back in "normalcy" tomorrow morning. I just got back from a quick fun weekend in California--we stayed at a beautiful hotel within walking distance to the wharf; I learned how to play poker (sortofnotreally); we hiked Lombard to see the curviest street in the country; and we braved what was one of the longest airport fiascos that I've ever encountered. 

But let's start over. On Thursday, I went to work and was bombarded with calls, emails, and visits about one of my groups. All hell was in the process of breaking loose--late for breakfast, lost in Arlington, bus wreck on the National Mall!! Oh lawd. I had to leave at noon to drive to DC to meet one of my groups, so I put up my out-of-office, hit the road, and met one of my favorite teachers at Arlington National Cemetery. 

It was a gorgeous day, and things couldn't have gone smoother--everyone was smiling, happy, and thankful... why can't everyone be like that?! Ok, so maybe it was a little too beautiful outside (I got sunburned on my nose, noooooo) and maybe I did take my bra off in the middle of the cemetery (to be fair, it was behind a tree. I was hot! What do you want from me?!?). But overall--great visit. 

Anyway, drove home, stopped at the Moo Thru, got myself a Moundz Milkshake, and booked it back to the 'ville to get ready for my 6:00AM flight. 

So delicious...

4:00AM. Wake up call. Scramble around and head out the door to pick up CV at her house and then make our way to the airport. When we arrive, everything seems to be working...except they tell us our 6:30AM flight is cancelled. Awesome! There are no other flights until Sunday, unless we want to cab to Dulles for a 11:50AM flight. Sooo....2 hours later (10hours after I'd just left), we're back at IAD and waiting for our flight. It's not as horrible as it sounds...we got a long, sit-down breakfast, stocked up on mags, and flew from IAD to LAX to SFO and only arrived 4hours late for our event. No biggie.

This does not look promising. 

... commence shitting of pants...

Not the Blue Ridge...

Thankfully, the event went very well--everyone had a great time, I didn't notice any major snags, and the beds were oh-so comfy when we collapsed after the event. The next day, we got to explore a little more and it was sooo pretty!

 

 

 

 

 

Sigh. We had an amazing dinner at The Slanted Door down by the wharf and called it an end to a short and sweet weekend away. The next morning, our 3:45AM wake-up call goes off and we say farewell to the Omni San Francisco to head to the airport. Everything seemed to be going just fine (does this sound familiar?)....until we're 3 hours into the flight and the captain comes on the speaker to announce that there are "dangerous storms in Chicago" and we'll have to land in Peoria Airport (aka bumfuck Illinois) to wait it out. Basically, this is his way of saying kiss yo ass goodbye. 

Like this will really make a difference...

Impending doom.

We wait it out for an hour. On the runway. With no AC. Finally, we're able to fly the 30 minutes to Chicago, and by this point, we've already missed our connecting flight. The good news: it was cancelled, so we're not alone. The bad news: the next flight's not till 7:30PM. This can only mean one thing--Margaritas!!! The airport bar has never looked so good...

Not SFP.

Chicago is fugly.

Meanwhile, as we creep closer and closer to 7:40...the weather worsens....and the flight is delayed to 9:40...then 10:05....then finally we're on the plane--lightening and thunder and flying cows are all around and if there were ever a time for me to praise a holier power, this would probs be it. Despite Mother Nature's wrath, we take off. I am not speaking lightly when I say that it is a miracle we made it home alive/with vomit-free clothing. It.was.awful.

All in all--we got home at 2:00AM Eastern time, a mere 12 hours after we were originally supposed to arrive. I'm not going to say, "I told you so," when it comes to my belief that people are not meant to fly...but srsly. 

Overall--great weekend! It was nice to be a baby jet-setter and I always love visiting beautiful cities. San Francisco definitely had a different flavor from the last time I was there, as a wide-eyed, ecstatic recent high-school grad, but I loved it just the same. 

Do I really have to work tomorrow? Is it July yet? The countdown to NOLA has happened full force, and I absolutely cannot wait!

xoxo,

Hannah

Weekend Scenes

Get-out-of-work-free cards for Caroline. Strolls in the city. Finding our way into the Newseum (for free!!). Long-awaited coffee talks. Visiting groups. Reunions in the Basement of Sin. VP PSLs. Nails done hair done errything done. Banana french toast. Trader J catch ups.  Pizza Pizza! Joyrides in the ole T-Bird. Fantastic start to a beautiful spring. 

Made just for Caroline...

"THAT'S QUEEN CAROLINE, TO YOU!"

Soaking it in.

And then...Molly's birthday! Authentic 80s garb. Bad, bad hair. Violet and green eyeshadow. One-piece glitter jump suits with tight-rolled pants. Dinner at Whisky Jar. Drinks at Sky Bar. Tickets to the Legwarmers! 75-degree nights downtown. Blingidy bling. 

She don't mess. 

....and I got Internet in my house! The clouds have parted and the angels are singing! Or at least my blog may be revived....fingers crossed!

xoxox,
Hannah

Soooo Sad, Sooo Depressed

Shit is getting real now. Can't handle it.

SW continues. We've taken our dorky depression to a whole new level. No shame. None. Sigh.

Oh dear...

Battle in the Basement

A few nights ago, our house was under attack by a vicious, merciless creature hell-bent on ruining lives and wreaking havoc across all of Vintage Place. It was a dangerous time in the basement of sin... but luckily we had our camera at the ready to document the terrifying event.

Rated R for Language, Violence. 

Unfortunately, no crickets were harmed in the making of this production. 

We're god thsnks.

Super long Labor Day weekend filled with many, many baked goods, nights out on the town, extreme iMovie making, and dabbles in deadly humpback cricket extractions. It was sooo nice to finally have a weekend to sit around and do/go wherever we wanted, whenever we wanted. Stuntin' like our daddies, or something...

Blonde on Blonde.

(P.S. I feel like this shirt makes an appearance in almost every photo I take. Anthro sales rack ftw, I guess!)

Look. We're actual adults! Plus, B-Rad came out to play, hooray!

"Umm, excuse me, do you ride the metro often?" Goodnight.

Can you feel the love?

Then, we encountered the most diligent cab company out there...

So helpful, so friendly. WE ARE HOME WITH JESUS!! God. So embarrassing.

Moving on. We spent a lot of the weekend whipping up the perfect Pumpkin Spice Latte as a farewell to summer. The Rancilio and I are slowly becoming friends again, especially with the addition of my sweet new thrift store "shot glasses."

Starbucks ain't got shit on us.

So there's a recipe for Blue Moon Cupcakes that has been floating all over Pinterest and I decided sit down and whip up this magic once and for all. Yes, these are beer-filled. No, they are not quite as magical as I anticipated (but I've never really met a cupcake I didn't like). I'm still trying to figure out why the icing decided to melt off the cake, but I'm betting it had nothing to do with the five (5!) cups of confectioner's sugar included in the mix...

Hayley was v. concerned and ready for any necessary clean up.

All in all, a pretty awesome 3.5-day weekend. Sad to see summer go, but pretty happy how fall (yes, September = Fall) is already shaping up. I'm ready for tailgates, tall boots, scarves, and a whole lot of coconut cappuccinos....

xxx,

Hannah

Died and Gone to Mash-Up Heaven

The Walls Start Shaking, the Earth Was Quaking...

Nothing like a tiny natural disaster to put little ole Louisa on the map for good. Yes, it's true: The Lou took a lead role in Tuesday's festivities and shook, rattled, and rolled itself onto the national news. I had just gotten back to my office on the 11th floor when the building started swaying and the usual maniacal chaos that is my coworkers began running, true stampede-style, to the stairwell. People were crying, shoes were flying, and I was worried we might lose a few around floor 9 when bodies began to feel the toll of exercise for the first time in decades.

But, we made it out alive and even got to leave work early. Score! especially considering it was absolute perfection outside.

Poor Louisa, on the other hand, didn't fare as well. The high school is effed; chimneys have crumbled, and the Cuckoo House had some damage. Luckily, my parents' ancient farm house stood strong and they only lost a few pieces of glassware/trinkets. They've had several aftershocks since, but it looks like the Lou was pretty lucky. Even North Anna managed to lock it up and not spew its nuclear nasties all over town. Good job, team.

Now, with all this commotion there have obviously been some brilliant interviews featuring Louisa's finest, and let me just say--they have been making my life. I never realized how much of an accent Central Virginia has but dang durn tootin yall, it's bad. Perhaps my favorite comment came from a woman who described her house as, "doin' the hula!" Yes. We may be rural. We may be toothless. But you better gosh durn believe that we know an earthquake when we feel it!

The Epicenter of Doom.

Cuckoo. She's a brick house, but she ain't got nothin' on 5.8.

Thank God Eric Cantor, with his finely combed hair and perfectly white teeth, was there to offer comfort in a time of need. Barf.

NOT THE FOOD LION NOOOOOOO!

LCHS

School's out for-evah.

(PS. there's my old locker circa 2004, holla!).

Hate to see that.

Umm, wtf. Even the mannequin heads in LCHS's "beauty department" didn't stand a chance.

But, if I had to pick one headline that sums up the sheer terror of the day, it would have to be:

Thank god the housewives are ok. I was srsly stressed. Anyway, it's been a wild ride around these parts, but hopefully things will calm down soon. In the meantime, brace yourselves for Irene, because she looks pissed.

xxxx, Hannah