As It Should Bee

This is a sports-related post which means I need to begin with this disclaimer: I actually know very little about sports. I know a fair amount about being a sports fan but am in no way qualified to comment on "the sports" in general. I'll probably use sports terminology incorrectly many many times in this post. You'll just have to forgive me. After all, you were disclaimed.

Disclaimer #2: I'm a Charlottean at heart so I write this from that perspective. Basically, while you're pretending I know how to write about sports, also pretend that I still live in Charlotte. Sorry, D.C.

You guys, I have to write this random Sunday afternoon post because I'm very excited. Actually, eight-year-old me is very excited. 

I guess you could say, I'm buzzzzzzzzing with delight. 

Rumor has it, my Charlotte Hornets are coming home. Can it be? The Hornets? Back at the hive?

My first introduction into the wonderful world of professional sports was in a magical place called the Charlotte Coliseum where the music was loud, the pizza was hot, and the Hornets....were...awesome.

The Charlotte Hornets.

I was three-foot-nothing and they were larger than life. I knew the players by name and when to yell DE-FENSE. And I was pretty sure that Larry Johnson's Grandmama was the funniest character that had ever been created in the history of the world, at least during my single-digit lifetime.



The Hornets were our team and we were their biggest fans. Charlotte was draped in teal and purple, there was a multi-story Charlotte Hornets mural on the side of the First Union building downtown/uptown (I don't even have time to get into the downtown vs. uptown debate), Hugo would visit schools and give high fives to kids with perfect attendance and every one had a favorite player. 

John Hodgman Loves My Mom

One day a few weeks ago, I was minding my own business, reading tweets and clicking on important BuzzFeed lists like "38 Dogs Who Suck At Hide-and-Seek" when I saw a tweet from comedian John Hodgman about an upcoming show in Alexandria, VA.

I'd never seen John Hodgman perform but I loved him on The Daily Show, as the poor PC guy in the Mac commercials and those times he did voice-over for the Emmy Awards and shared fake background factoids about celebrities as they walked to the stage.

I'm a Mac. I'm a PC. 

"Eric Stonestreet hails from Kansas, and reports that while growing up, he wanted to be a disc jockey, a Marine, a prison administrator and a clown. Apparently that is all one job in Kansas."

And, there was a time when he roasted President Obama for being a nerd.

Turned out Hodgman's show was the same night my mom was in town. While my mom is a loyal watcher of The Daily Show, I wasn't sure if the stand up routine was something she'd be into. I decided to go straight to the source. No, not my mom. John Hodgman. 

Yes, I was the only one who "favorited" this. 

Well, that settled it. Plus, now he was expecting us to be there. After some quick email correspondence with my mom and sister, we impulse-bought tickets.


The show was at the Birchmere Music Hall which none of us had been to before but we'd all heard good things.

Mom and I went early to get seats and order dinner while Melissa waited for Pete to get home to stay with Baby Charlie. I'm not a parent myself but it seems you can't leave an eight-month-old by himself, no matter how much of a genius he is. (Seriously guys, he knows how to pick up Cheerios now. It's amazing stuff.)

Right before we left, my mom, Melissa and I were all talking about the superiority of North Carolina barbecue so, of course when I saw barbecue on the menu, I had to get it. Barbecue, comedy...is this what heaven is like?

Twenty Eight

Well, it happened again. Another year has passed. I'm 100% officially and undeniably in my late twenties.

I was holding on to mid-twenties for as long as I could. But 28? Now, that's a solid round up to 30.

I exercised just ten minutes longer than I normally do the other day and almost died. 

DEAR GOD, IS THIS WHAT 28 FEELS LIKE? How old am I? Is this the rest of my life?!

But, I quickly realized, No, Lindsay. This is not 28. This is called "you ate Easter candy for breakfast and need to not be such a wimp."

Ah yes, moment of clarity. Now that's 28. I'm becoming wise in my old age.

The first smart decision I made as a 28-year-old was to celebrate this new year with all my favorites - good girlfriends, arts & crafts, sangria and an over-sized sombrero. 

We kicked off the evening at All Fired Up in Cleveland Park where, not only can you paint pottery, but you can bring your own wine and snacks. Wine and crafts? This was made for me. After much deliberation on what to paint - including several attempts to try to get someone in our group to paint the Wolverine bank - we loaded up our paint palettes, filled our glasses and got to work. 

Spring...Finally

Hi, it's a been a while. 

This is the only photo I was able to take.
High quality photography skills, obviously. 

I tried to draft a post about the hilariously amazing Aziz Ansari show my sister and I attended a couple weeks ago but it never quite came together. We weren't able to take pictures once the show started and I didn't want to be one of those annoying stand up comedy fans who just retells the jokes, thinking it's as amusing when, in fact, it is not. Why do people do that? This ain't no comedy karaoke, bro. 

So, I didn't have much to go on. 

I did have a anecdote about how, while looking in my sister's purse before the show, she and I learned she is a hoarder of small boxed hand soaps. That was going to be the highlight of the post. That is why I scrapped the idea. For your own sake.

And, while this current post is almost less coherent than a review of a comedy show that includes a hand soap tangent, I feel like I have to write something. Why? Because I'm just so excited. We waited, prayed, complained and waited again. And finally....FINALLY....it happened. 

SPRING IS HERE! 

Hallelujah. It seems like just a week or two ago it was 20 degrees outside.

Most likely because, it was. But, no more, my friends. 

I was originally going to welcome the season with a post all about the Cherry Blossom Festival - a quintessential sign of a DC Spring. Then I remembered that I can't actually go down to the Tidal Basin because I have severe allergic reactions to strong smells - smells like hundreds of beautifully blossomed trees.