Jersey Girls...

Last weekend Jane and I ventured away from Northern Virginia to go see one of my very best friends from college, Melanie Brough. Melanie and her husband Dave and their beautiful new daughter Lillia live with Melanie's parents in Pleasantville, New Jersey, just outside of Atlantic City.

We had a wonderful weekend and Melanie and her family were too kind to show us all of the sights, including Atlantic City and their favorite family beach. Here are some of the photos of the weekend.

We went Over the River...

Through the Woods....





We were well stocked

Jane is the BEST travel buddy...not to mention she takes great travel picsWe met Melanie and went...of course...to THE BEACH
We touched the Ocean...well...the Ocean touched us...You will notice it creeping up behind us here...You can probably guess what happened next...We saw the sights...including this rather famous (?) giant elephant. It used to be a hotel.
We spent some more time at the beach...

We Saw Some Strange Things Along The Way...
In case you were wondering where it is...it's in New Jersey...I can give you directions if you need them...This, apparently, is the preferred method of moving in New Jersey...You can also play "I Spy" with all the items stuffed into the trunk...it's like a double challenge...Challenge 1) Find selected item...Challenge 2) See how long you can follow the car in order to find the maximum amount of items...Instant Fun

All in all we had a great trip. Many thanks to Melanie and her wonderful family for their incredible hospitality! Stay tuned for the next road trip adventure! HAPPY TRAILS!

Springtime in DC

The Cherry Blossom festival is the official start of spring in Washington DC. Two weekends ago Jane and I rounded up a group of friends to go see the opening day of the festival, as well as check out the kite festival that was going on simultaneously. The day was a lot of fun, and not without moments of adventure...including but not limited too...crowd surfing in the metro amongst the THOUSANDS of people who turned out for the festival's first day...Jane's unfortunate run in with a small fence, and subsequently, the pavement surrounding said fence...nearly being killed by a kamikaze Barbie kite...and repeated uncomfortably close encounters with my friend (and ninja?) Kevin. All in all, it was a great day, and no one ended up falling into the Tidal Basin...so we'll call it a success. Below are some of the photos that I took while we were out. Not being a photographer, I am particulalry proud of the way several of them turned out.

The Smithsonian Castle building over the mall.










Cherry blossoms surrounding the tidal basin with the Jefferson Memorial in the background











Yet another photo for Jane and I's album...aren't we so pretty? Too bad I was being lazy and have my hair in pigtails AND it was cold so i was wearing my nubuck colored Columbia sweater...so I look a little like Pocohontas...Just around the river bend, anyone?




One of my favorite photos that I took. I love the Jefferson Memorial, and the branches in the foreground are really pretty. It was a great day for it, and the water in the Tidal Basin--despite being part of the Potomac (which you couldn't pay me enough to ever swim in)-- had a really pretty color.




A close-up of one of the blossom branches. I need to get a photo editing program because my iPhoto workshop just isn't cutting it at this point, and the blossoms look a little washed out.







Anne, myself, and Deanne. Remind me to not ever stand between those two beautiful girls ever again!







Anne and I. Love Love LOVE this girl!

Jane and I...again...like I said, we already have a killer "wedding album" :P

This is probably my favorite shot of the day...HAPPY SPRING!

I'm a Mom...

I am a dog person, it’s true. My family has always had dogs, and I have no problem admitting my soft spot for canines (See photo of bichon frise, the kind of dog I will most likey get eventually. Truth be told I'd rather have a Boxer, as they are larger and more athletic, but for now something small and snuggly is more conducive to my lifestyle...anyway). People have asked me “Why not cats? They are just as cute and fluffy as dogs, easier to take care of, and better to have in small spaces.” All these facts are true, cats are cute, sometimes even adorable, they are a low-maintenance pet, and they ARE better for apartment dwelling, much as I am doing now.

Here’s the thing… cats are moody, they’ve got attitude (see photo. There's not room enough in this house for an attitude like that and my own). I figure I have enough trouble with my relationships with human beings. If I am going to have a pet, I want unconditional love. Dogs will give you unconditional love, and that’s what I am looking for in a pet.

So recently, for whatever reason, I have been really wanting to get a dog. For those of you who don’t know, I currently have three wonderful roommates. I have a personal belief that a person should never subject others to living with animals, because sometimes living with an indoor pet (a necessity in our neighborhood) is not the most pleasant thing in the world. So clearly, given the facts that our lease expressly forbids indoor pets, and that I will not subject my roommates to my canine cravings, I was not going to be able to act on my sudden urge to get a dog.

While not a dog, I have purchased a pet, and I would like to take the opportunity to introduce him officially on my blog. His name is Moshi. Moshi is a cobalt blue beta fish that has taken up residence in a fish shaped bowl in my room. Moshi is short for Moshi-ida, which, in Korean, means to be stylish or handsome. Moshi is both of these, so the name is fitting.

I understand, fish are not affectionate, they are not necessarily the best conveyers of that unconditional love I was talking about earlier. A fish will not cuddle up with you at the end of a long day, or get excited when you come home from work. You cannot walk a fish, it will not accompany you on a springtime jog…but what can you do? Moshi is there when I get home, he does flair his tail when I feed him, and somehow I find something very fulfilling about keeping something else alive. Call it maternal instinct.

So now I am the proud mother of a fish named Moshi. He seems to be quite enjoying his new surroundings (a serious upgrade from the cup he was living in at the pet store). I have finally gotten over the anxiety of him making a kamikaze leap out of his bowl—my cousin had an ill-fated beta fish who made several suicide attempts during bowl cleanings, one of them nearly ending in tragedy due to an over-excited roommate and a fork—and have grown very fond of him swimming contentedly around his bowl, nipping food off the surface of the water, and hiding behind his plant.

So, things seem to be going…well…swimmingly, if you’ll forgive the pun. Aside from the fact that Jane seems to be quite jealous of Moshi—she claims that she has been replaced by the fish, as she was on vacation in Hawaii when he took up residence in my room—he seems to be well received by the rest of the roommates, and I am rather enjoying having a pet again.

Identifying Doug...

For those of you who read the last post, you might remember Doug, my long term, hacking, choking cough. Well, I finally broke down today and went to the doctor (after having completely lost my voice for the last two days). I did not want to go to the doctor, and I should point out that I haven't had a primary health care provider since I quit seeing my pediatrician when I was like 11, which, incidentally, was probably the last time I was sick enough to see a doctor, with the exception of a couple of bouts of strep throat in college that required a jaunt to the University's urgent care center...anyway, I digress.

The point is after two hours in a VERY depressing waiting room with no reading material except parenting magazines written by people who, from the tone of their articles, seem like they have maybe seen a child before...maybe, and another 30 minutes in a rather cold examination room sitting on that really awkward table with the butcher paper on it with only slightly more intriguing reading material--the March 2008 issue of Star Magazine (apparently Brad and Angie really are tying the knot this time!)--AND a 10 minute poking and prodding by what appeared to be a licensed health care professional named Greta, Doug and I have been diagnosed.

As it turns out, I have what appears to be Viral Bronchitis, with the option to upgrade to Pneumonia (lucky me). So, I am currently on antibiotics and some crazy cough pills that are sure to make me expel Doug and all his little minions that have taken up lodging in my respiratory tract. While I have to say I am thankful to have the illness that has been plaguing every waking moment of my existence diagnosed and prescribed to a treatment program, I was reminded today of why I hate going to the Doctor; lots of waiting, lots of sick people, and lots of time to sit and think about the things I could be doing rather than sitting around waiting for hours on end for someone to come in and tell me what I already suspected and then write me a note saying I can purchase outrageously overpriced prescription medication. Oh well, I shouldn't complain, things should start looking up, and I do have to say Greta was one of the nicest health care professionals I have had the pleasure (?) of encountering in my experiences as an ill person.

In sum, I just wanted to let everyone know that I'm not actually dying of death, just viral bronchitis. Thanks so much to everyone who's been concerned for my welfare and offered to help me out while I've been sick, I really appreciate it! You are all too kind.

Death Bed Repentance...

Well, on Monday I came down with my second bout of the killer flu that has been plaguing the nation. I got sick with it the first time about a month ago over President's Day weekend. The flu itself really only lasted two or three days. The cough, on the other hand, has been hanging around since then. I felt fine after the fever and aches subsided, but the cough would not let go. My friend Jane and I decided to name it (my cough) Doug. We thought it was a suitable name for a houseguest that shows up un-invited and then overstays his welcome. No offense to any Dougs out there. Truth be told, it was really just personification for personification's sake, and I figured it would turn my semi-obnoxious and kind of gross hacking cough into a rather funny conversation piece...whatever.

So, the point is, the flu is back with a vengeance and I have been flat on my back since Tuesday afternoon. Needless to say, between the naps and the hours of mind-numbing daytime TV, I've had a lot of time to think about things. One of the things I have been thinking about is this blog. I realize I have been delinquent in my posts, and my near death (from boredom?) experience has helped me recommit myself to keeping everyone up to date on the details of my scintillating (?!?) life.

In the spirit of that, the most exciting thing that has happened is that I ventured out of the house today to get a haircut (see poor cell phone pic of my new haircut). Despite my near-death status, I showered and doped myself up sufficiently to go out among the living, mostly because my stylist is in high demand and I make my appointments 8 weeks out, AND it probably would have taken me nearly that long to reschedule it. Seriously, the things women do.

Turns out it was a good move. Amazing what a shower and a little lip gloss will do for a girl's mood. Not to mention the fact that I'm pretty sure the guy who cuts my hair passed his "Psychiatry for Hairstylists" class with flying colors because I always walk out of that place feeling like a million bucks. Nice Work Remy.

So, with that, from now on I promise to post regularly and keep you all up to date on what's been going on with me. Nothing like a little Death Bed Repentance to wake a girl up!

My Very Own Wardrobe Malfunction...

The first thing you should know is that this post is completely impromptu. I have an entire list of posts I need to make (Josh, you may tease me about obsessive compulsiveness in your comment, should you [read when you] choose to do so) and this was not on that list. However, in light of today's events, I felt like it was appropriate to devote a little bit of cyberspace to yet another incident in a series of misfortunate events in the life of Amanda Lynn.

The second thing you should know is my creative juices have been a little stifled at work, so beware, this thing is a book.

The third thing you should know is that I read celebrity gossip. I admit it. I don't know why I do it and I can't make myself stop. It's trashy, pointless, and has no relevance to my life. I actually almost went on a hunger strike when CNN persisted in filling its prime time slots with stories about Paris Hilton, Lindsey Lohan, and their respective DUI's. For the most part, I deplore the people that the stories are about. I could not care less who they are dating, which rehab facility they checked into, or what comment they made in a public forum that made them look like they never made it past the third grade--and yet, I read.

I should probably clarify that my favorite mindless celebrity dribble to read are the best and worst dressed lists. Ask anyone I know, I love clothes and I love to shop, and let's be honest, celebs have the funds for seriously fantastic wardrobes...and I may or may not get a rise out of seeing certain uber-famous Hollywood starlets get slammed for wearing something utterly heinous. Anyway...I digress. If you have ever read celebrity gossip/best & worst dressed lists, you will know that occasionally stars will have an unexpected problem with their wardrobe, commonly known as a wardrobe malfunction.

In general, I would say that my day-to-day life is about as far from that of most celebrities as is humanly possible, with the exception, maybe, of living in a cardboard box on the side of the street. However, today, I had my own flash of what it might be like to be a celebrity in one of those awkward type, situations. Today, I had my very own public wardrobe malfunction. Okay, maybe that's a stretch to say that such an event puts today on par with a day in the life of an ill-fortuned starlet (it definitely doesn't, in case you hadn't picked up on the sarcasm infused into every syllable of this post), but it makes for a good story, so don't complain. Onward...

Most wardrobe malfunctions result in an embarrassing or inappropriate overexposure of the wearer of the misfortuned ensemble. At this point you can google images of "Wardrobe Malfunction" if you're really that curious, but I refuse to provide a link to most of the semi-to-extremely inappropriate content that such a search will reveal. Luckily, my personal wardrobe malfunction did not leave me exposed to all those around me, it did, however, make for some serious angst and embarrassment on a day that had already started out on a not-such-a-great note. So, without further adieu, here is my story.

In case you haven't seen the weather channel for the past few days, the east coast has basically turned into one big icy death trap. (see map. Note: this may or may not be the correct map for the storm we have been having, actually, I'm pretty sure it's not, but the large blue mass representing COLDNESS should be fairly indicative of the idea I'm trying to get across).


So, Virginia is a sloppy, icy mess and I was already not thrilled about the idea of going to work and having to fight for my life among the hordes of incompetent east coast drivers that would be inundating the roadways. The government had issued a two hour delay in arrival for all federal employees because of the weather, so rather than getting to the office at 7 as I usually do, I took my two hours and waited for things to thaw out, dry up, etc before heading to work. As a result, I had to park in the outer darkness of the far parking lots, mostly because I work with a bunch of crazies who will get to work early even if given a pass not to. Anyway. My parking spot was probably a grand total of about 1/2 mile from my desk (you think I'm joking, I'm not). I had gotten about 15 yards from my car when I heard a snap, and my right foot came flying out of my black, slingback heel. Not Good. I stopped to inspect that damage, and sure enough the elastic holding the two parts of the strap together had completely snapped. Great. (see shoe)

So, with nothing else to do I began schlumping/shuffling my way through the hopelessly puddled parking lot (read Ice Rink of Death) to my desk. Now one thing you have to know is that the place I work is home to a lot of employees. A LOT. This means that A LOT of people saw me very uncomfortably schlumping/shuffling while trying not to lose my shoe (ps, I was not very successful at this, and ended up with a rather wet right foot by the time it was all said and done). Particularly painful episodes included: 1.) Losing my shoe on the sidewalk while being stared down by a pack of electrical maintenance workers who kept looking at me with that "she could be hot, but what is wrong with her walk?" sort of confused, disturbed look 2.) Having to stand still while riding the escalator DOWN (this will be coming out shortly in my "List of Stupid Things Inconsiderate People Do That Drive Me Crazy" post. Yes, I was THAT girl) while soggy, angsty government employees backed up behind me wondering why the heck a perfectly healthy-looking girl like me wasn't just WALKING down the escalator like a normal person, and 3.) nearly biffing it completely while exiting the elevator on the 3RD FLOOR (yep, I'm a stair user folks, this was a big blow to my pride on a lot of levels). Anyway, like I said, great way to start the morning.

So I finally made it to my desk. Oh sweet cubicle, you have never looked so good! It was time to assess the damage and figure out how I was going to avoid more embarrassing incidents like the ones cited above. I realized in order to make it through the rest of the day I had two choices: 1.) find a way to fix my heel or 2.) put on my navy blue and white running shoes (see shoes, yes, those are actually my shoes, only mine are a good deal less white and shiny) with my black business skirt (see skirt). Knowing that this little ensemble would have most definitely landed me on Mr. Blackwell's worst dressed (insert of all time) list, I resolved to fix the broken shoe.

The situation was not good. The elastic holding the two pieces of the strap together was completely shredded (again, see shoe). I did my best to thread the existing pieces back through the buckle thingy (yes, it IS a technical term) and "tie" the shredded mess together. Guess how well that worked... I was feeling a little despondent, and wishing that I was more prepared, like a Boy Scout, or had a Boy Scout, or had a man who had been a Boy Scout...Wait, that's another post...anyway... I opened up my "miscellaneous-stuff-I-probably-will-never-need-but-keep-anyway" drawer and looked in, hoping to receive revelation, or a safety pin at the least. Passport, useless; toothbrush, no good; individual servings of pepper, umm, no; bandaid...good thought, but not quite. Then I saw them...a little family of black binder clips that I only pulled out when a paper clip just wouldn't cut it. They were black, unobtrusive, and sitting there waiting for me. It just might work.


So I took out the smallest clip, and attached it to the place where there was the most overlap between the two pieces of the strap (not too mention the tiny mass of freyed up elastic that I had hopelessly attempted to bind together). I attached the clip, folded down the silver tabs, and voila. It appeared sturdy. I took a few tentative steps around the office...no slipping, no rubbing. Only sweet success. I had just repaired my high heel with office supplies. (see discreet binder clip fix). I am, I thought, the quintessential modern superwoman; nothing will slow me down. Yes, I had a binder clip on my heel, but it was close the floor, and actually, surprisingly unobtrusive. I even realized that I could remove the silver tabs from the binder clip, so all that was left was the black clip body holding together the straps on my heel. Granted, this wasn't until AFTER I had walked around for several hours with the silver tabs still folded down over the straps (Note: I blame the lapse in ingenuity on temporary euphoria at the prospect of not having to schlump/shuffle around the office like a hobo for the rest of the day--particularly given that I had a meeting with the individual in charge of my promotions that afternoon--you can see how it would be easy to get carried away). All in all, it was a great success. I am actually considering just leaving the binder clip as a semi-permanent fix, seeing as how I am actually quite loathe to get rid of this particular pair of shoes, despite the fact that they are guilty of sartorial high treason.

So there you have it. I must say, for my very first wardrobe malfunction, it went pretty well. I'm still not a star, and I will probably never make a best-dressed list, or even the "Most-Ingenious-in-Office-Wardrobe-Repair-Job" list. However, I must say, I am enjoying my newfound afinity for binder clips and the feeling of discovering, what I consider to be, a low-level Super Power. Eat your heart out Lilo.

The Best is Yet to Come...

This post is long overdue, for which I apologize. On January 27, 2008 President Gordon B. Hinckley, the President and Prophet of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints passed away at the age of 97. He led the Church for over a decade, and was the prophet for the better part of my life. This post is a small tribute to him and the influence he has had in my life and the lives of people worldwide.



I received news of his passing on Sunday evening from my mom. When she called and told me that he had passed away, I was surprised at my reaction. I was sad--President Hinckley has become so loved among members of the Church for so many reasons--but I felt strangely peaceful. I knew that even though President Hinckley had passed, there would be another president of the church. God will call another prophet, and the work of the Lord in these latter days will continue to roll forward.

To learn more about the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints and how prophets are chosen, click here

On Saturday February 2nd I watched President Hinckley's funeral. I have to admit, I was not excited about the experience...I suppose I thought that not making official (ie avoiding at all costs) the reality that one of the individuals who had impacted my life the most had left this earth would make it less painful. I realized that part of the reason why I had not felt affected by the initial news of his passing was because I had chosen not to deal with it.

It is a strange experience to be affected by so strongly by the passing of someone I had never met or had a personal relationship with. President Hinckley affected my life very deeply. He was the one who counseled us always with power and direction, but also with joy and love. He was the one who gave us the "6 B's" and shared his love for the temple and the ordinances performed there. He provided so much counsel and direction, but always did so while mainting a loving persona that personalized and endeared him to people around the world.


As I watched the proceedings of his funeral, I was struck by the words of President Monson, who reminded us that President Hinckley always looked forward to the future with an attitude of anticipation, knowing that "the best is yet to come." I was struck by this and took joy and hope in remembering that the Lord has promised us that the best IS yet to come. No matter what situation we find ourselves in, the Lord has promised that he will always provide for us and that if we are faithful he will bless our lives. Whether we are in the happiest circumstances of our lives, or the most desperate, there is always something better awaiting us. I do not think this means that we should be discontent in our position in our life, but that we should look forward with joyful anticipation to the blessings and plans tha the Lord has in store for us.

Click Here to Read the Transcript of President Hinckley's Funeral

I am so grateful for President Hinckley and the life he lived, the counsel he gave, and the love he shared with people around the world, inside and outside the church. I want to take this opportunity to express my love for the gospel, and the joy that I take in knowing that the Lord is deeply and personally involved in our lives. I look forward to President Monson's tenure as prophet and President of the Church, and once again, I am grateful to know that no matter where we find ourselves now, the best is yet to come.