Not a snowball's chance in Texas

I had the most interesting weekend with my amazing cousin @evaruth in San Antonio this weekend. I was really impressed by the fun and flavor of the town. My cousin was great at keeping us on the move which of course means I will have to pull out all the stops for her next visit to DC (aka we don't need to go back to H Street Country Club again. Ever.).

After getting "snowed in" (the snow was fake the closures were real) Friday morning we ate ceviche and drank the best margarita (frozen with a swirl of Prickly Pear on top) at an awesome restaurant called La Gloria part of the Pearl Brewery complex, which serves Mexican street food. We explored art galleries on First Friday. Woke up and ate the most amazing migas I've ever had at Taco Haven, hiked around Eisenhower Park and drank delicious craft beer at Freetail Brewing (#fatkidlikescake hint: if you ask them nicely to reheat your congealed queso they'll forgo the reheating and just bring you a fresh bowl) before collapsing into bed.

While I'd spent time in San Antonio for Hillary in 2008 my experience had been limited to the commute between my bed and my desk (a delightful and stress-free 20 minutes). This was a side of town I had never seen before and could definitely resolve to head back to. I resolved on my way home that I could find my own San Antonio in DC. More culture, more new places, more art and less manicures.

Okay I was just kidding about the manicures.

Tonight I felt like a really good dinner was in order. In the spirit of this weekend I decided to try to make at least one thing I'd never made before (more proof to the theory that I am a 50 year-old woman stuck in the body of a 25 year-old).

Salmon with Mustard and Brown Sugar Glaze (1/4 cup of butter cut nearly in half in my version, would have made Paula Deen cry)

Roasted Cauliflower

And super easy-peasy-lemon-squeezy 15-Minute Beets

Ok ok, so only one of those things was new, but so what, it's a start and you're pressed to break me up with my veggies.

On my way to being a San Antonio girl!

Jewish Women Weekend

It's been a tough weekend for Jewish women in America. First the horrific shooting in Arizona, then the death of singer/song writer Debbie Friedman. In my opinion it's always hard to be a Jewish woman. There are all too many men (Jewish men included) in this world ready with a JAP barb or a Jewish mother joke to keep us down in the rare moments that we're not ruminating on the size of our hips or the slant of our nose. Sometimes I'm certain that the glass ceiling is made from double panned glass if you're an MOT. To be a successful Jewish woman means to overcome a plethora of forces, internal as well as external.

If in fact the Congresswoman and her staffer were targeted for being Jewish then this incident should serve as a reminder of the many barriers that still exist for Jews in this country and speaks to the tremendous strength of both the Congresswoman and Friedman. So many times I have found myself attempting to play-down my Judaism in the workplace for fear of leaving room for people to peg me as the stereotype of the loud and obnoxious Jewish woman they have seen portrayed in the media and in entertainment but this is to the detriment of those around me. Why shouldn't I be proud of who I am and the women who have paved the road before me, women like Friedman and Giffords. Women like Justice Ginsberg. The strength of their voices should be the clarion call for a new generation. A generation that is bent on carving our own paths and refining our individual and collective voice (ruah as Debbie would say).

I pray that Congresswoman Giffords makes a full and speedy recovery and that her voice comes back louder and stronger as an advocate for the Jewish community as well as for the voiceless among us.

To Congresswoman Giffords and the many people whose lives were forever marred by the tragic events Saturday, may the source of strength who blessed the ones before us, help us find the courage to make our lives a blessing.

Rambling to rumble Karo, aka, the start of the next great novel

Unemployment, the best way to meet your synagogue’s sisterhood, to be reintroduced to the distant family friends that last saw you when you were learning how to read, to the friend of a friend of a friend of someone your cousin once dated, before she moved to Israel and got married and joined another sisterhood. There’s also the friend of a friend whose cousin you yourself dated, or pined for or despised, or all of the above, but that was back in college, already a distant two months ago, back before you weren’t unemployed but an undergraduate with the endless amounts of potential. Instead you sit with an unending cup of coffee for endless hours at the local coffee shop. The one that became hip while you were away at college exploring the definition of hip, rejecting hip, replacing it with greek letters, being rejected by hip, then coming to terms with it, four years goes by fast. I wonder if that’s how long my job search could go on?

Meanwhile you sit, and you write, you answer every phone call, even those from your mother with “Hi this is…” and fight the urge to add, “what you got for me?” I hope I still look like lazy college student with potential rather than a soccer mom in between carpool pick-ups. Good thing I’ve got my cute pink ipod and trendy shoulder bag going, and no self respecting soccer mom would leave the house without sensible running shoes rather than the flip-flops with no support that I still rock with my college tee. Four years went by faster than these two month have. Weeks spent in transition, days wither away on Craigslist and enraptured with the latest Lifetime melodrama. Don’t feel too bad though, the only reason you’re too broke for anything but a double vodka tonic at happy hour with your underemployed friends and extended facebook network is because you took the nest egg gathered up from envelopes and neatly folded checks tucked into the folds of your graduation gown and blew it on a plane ticket and a backpack, beers and scoops of gelato during an entire month in Europe. At least your nest egg bought a few good stories of adventure, Canadian boys and blistering sunburns. And you learned how to read a map.

Refresh Gmail, refresh facebook, isn’t there a program that can do that simultaneously? Too bad you were too tech-illiterate to take a class on programming, that could be a nifty skill to put on a resume. Resume skills, there’s always that ace-in-hole that you played basketball for two years in junior high and soccer for a few in high school, you would make a great addition to a Congressional softball team or a non-profit kickball league. You could find a new outlet for all that anger over your banishment from the world of the co-ed.

The time I sent a fundraising letter to my parents

me: i had another fundraising interview today actuallybut i think i'd just prefer to sleep late, go to the gym, get lunch and go to happy hour

w: sounds like a nice life
me: i think so, i should start looking for a sponsor
w: yeah, it's called your parents.
me: i should write my parents a fundraising letter!

dear friend,

i want to thank you for your support over the past 22 years. your
donations have made a valuable contribution to the lifestyle of one
relwoods. i am writing today to ask you to
continue your support for this special cause. these are trying times,
the period between college and the real world is a scary place, and
your donation will be put to good use throughout the district of
columbia bar and retail scene. we thank you again for your continuing
support and look forward to seeing you for the high holidays and
thanksgiving

all the best,

your daughter

All was fun and games until my actual father utilized the "REPLY TO ALL" feature, instantly reaching a level of parental embarrassment heretofore only imagined.

We look forward to continuing this charitable giving program for an
additional brief period of time, since in about 10-15 years, we anticipate
that the roles will be reversed. We look forward to YOUR support, to make
possible the "sleep late/gym/lunch/happy hour" lifestyle at that time.

-- the 'rents

Ps: Are the contributions tax deductible ?

Who reads blogs?

Margaret: has anyone ever told you that you are slightly ridiculous

me: no

Margaret: your fundraising letter almost made me pee my pants

you should just start a witty dc blogme: i mean i have heard entirely ridiculous

who reads blogs?

Margaret: i dunno - you?

me: not really

would you read my blog?

Margaret: OF COURSE

duh i'm always looking for new ways to slack off at work

me: that would be so much pressure, what if i wasn't funny all the time?

Margaret: true

how do you even make money doing that

i mean, how do you make that your job

me: i mean, i don't think i would be able to get hired if i had a really juicy blog