"I Can See Your Nightgown" & Tout de Sweet

I actually slept in till 10 a.m. today. Ten!! This is a BIG deal. I haven't been able to do that in weeks. It must be the extra hydration (wine).

So, what to eat for breakfast? My brain tells me to throw some eggs in the microwave and call it good. Yes. The microwave - because I don't have a stove. It's difficult to have such a thing when you don't have a kitchen. You didn't think I just eat out all the time for the sake of blogging did you? While it does give me plenty to write about, this blog might have been a cooking blog if it weren't for the fact that I, the ROAMologist, have no kitchen and so I must forage the city for food to eat. I do enjoy it - almost as much as I love to cook. But, I'm getting off track now aren't I? Where were we? Ah, yes.

... my brain tells me microwaved eggs, but my HEART whispers cinnamon roll. Although I had fully intended to stay put in my bed all day, the thought of a yummy cinnamon roll stirs me enough to at least throw on some clothing over my nightgown and drive a couple blocks down the street to Tout de Sweet. It's only a six minute drive. I should be back in bed in no time!

I arrive. From the outside, it really doesn't look like much. Upon entering, I see it is very charming! It's the kind of place that makes you feel special simply by association. The colorful macarons, decadent looking mouses, tiny little cakes topped with berries all sit in the display case and make me feel       truly rich - and it has nothing to do with money. I enjoy fine things. Who doesn't? These tiny confections look very fine indeed. Fit for a Queen and here I am - in my nightgown. Suddenly I'm feeling a little self conscious as I wonder if anyone can tell I've just rolled out of bed, quite literally still in my pj's.

 I feel a tugging on my exposed night gown           (damn it).

To my left I see a little girl with brown pigtails staring up at me. It's me, when I was around 6 or so.

"I can see your nightgown," she says - I say.

"You mean our nightgown and don't be silly - that's not a nightgown. It's my shirt."

"No it's not," my younger self says to my present day self.

"My Mom never lets me wear pajamas out."

"You mean our Mom. It's not pajamas."

"Yes. It is."

"No it's not."

"Then why do you still have your coat on? Take it off then if it's a shirt."

Smart little terd she (I) is (am).

"No. I don't want to. Now run along and watch out for a guy named Bob in about 10 years OK?"

Proudly, because no one cares if I'm wearing a nightgown to breakfast, I step up to the counter and since there aren't any cinnamon rolls I order a raisin scone with grape jam and butter as well as a cappuccino. The lady at the counter is French.

What is it with all the French people in Bethesda? It seems there is a huge French population here. I'll need to start brushing up on mon francais so they can all laugh at my c'est terrible pronunciation! 

As I stand there waiting for my order inside this lovely establishment I pay no attention to the fact that everyone is properly dressed and I seem to be the only who has literally rolled out of bed to be here. I haven't bothered to shower and sleep is still in my eye. OK. So, maybe I am paying attention.

I take my scone and coffee to go so as to get back in bed as quickly as possible leaving behind me all sense of caring and now I truly do feel queenly - because "a queen can do whatever she damn well pleases" (a quote from Her Majesty, Mrs. Brown) and that includes wearing her nightgown to a pastry shop.

THE END

P.S. The scone and the coffee were AMAZING! I'll definitely be back for more sans nightgown.

Georgia Avenue Thrift Shop, Jetties, Cork & Fork

Why the hell does anyone wake up at 6:30 a.m. on Saturday when they don't have to? 

For the same reason they don't go to sleep when they need to -- because there are better things to do than sleep, such as roaming about the city to find a steal, a nibble and a delicious wine to guzzle      er       sip.

I start the day by showcasing on facebook my finds, from the previous day's treasure hunt at Value Village. THIS VV is hands down the best VV I've EVER seen -- and I've seen plenty. 

VV is a WALMART sized second hand store with everything under the sun (bad fluorescent lighting). This is the place to find everything you ever wanted but didn't know you wanted. It's also a great place to find things you would never want (lice, influenza, scabies, hepatitis). I highly suggest bringing antibacterial wet wipes, hand sanitizer and an air tight suit if you have one! 

I'm being mildly sarcastic as usual, but really I do recommend hand wipes because your hands will get dirty rummaging through everyone's used crap       treasures. 

That's another thing. If you really want to find something -- you gotta roll up your sleeves and be willing to get dirty. Treasures aren't going to always jump out and find YOU. Although, sometimes this does happen. Like this retro skirt that caught my eye as I was rounding the tight corners of the very small aisles that are always too crowded. I found this, or rather it found me, in the vintage section! It's a thick polyester cream colored skirt with gold threads in the pattern. It's funky and WARM (like me haha) for the winter. I love it!! 

Later, I hop in my car and by mistake find the Georgia Avenue Thrift Store. I have driven past this shop at least a half dozen times since I've been here. It's right across the street from the Walmart I shop at. However, I've never noticed it until today. 

It's in paris as I like to call this particular part of D.C. because of the giant radio tower thingy there which resembles the Eiffle Tower in Paris, France. Other than that, the area bares no resemblance. It's an OK part of town, but going there at night is perhaps something to be avoided unless one desires to sell crack, start hooking (or pimping) or something like that. 

NOTE: It's a fine place to be during the day unless you're participating in any of the aforementioned activities and then my recommendation is to wait until it's dark. 

I had a good haul from the GATS. Some very nice bath towels, a cool stool, lamp and shower curtain were among my many findings. 

Lets not forget the CD's! I never pass up the music section at a thrift store. I always find some oldies but goodies and also some artists I've never heard of that turn out to be surprisingly fantastic (or horrible). I recently bought an album by Gaelic Storm. I'd never heard of them before, but for 99 cents, why the hell not! It turns out they are awesome!! If you love Irish-y music with violins, fiddles and drums plus some great singing then I highly suggest you check these guys (and gal) out! So anyway, I bought Sheryl Crow, Dido and K.D. Lang albums as well as the soundtracks to Swingers and The Thomas Crown Affair (LOVE THAT MOVIE).

All of my treasures came to a grand total of 40 bucks. 

Shopping, especially rummaging at a thrift store, works up an appetite. So, I decide to head back to my part of town and see what interesting place I can find to eat at. 

Jetties on Farimont Avenue in Bethesda won my attention (mostly because it was closest to my parking space). They serve sandwiches, salads and soups. It's a laid back atmosphere with a beach-y kind of vibe. The reggae music was nice and almost made me feel like I was back in Diego Garcia. If it hadn't been for the 50 degree weather outside and the fact that I was covered head to toe in       clothing, I would have thought I was at the Yacht Club.  

I orde the Smith Point sandwich (they also have build your own sandwiches). It has roast beef, havarti cheese, thin red onions, tomatoes and horseradish sour cream on pumpernickel. Let me tell you, it was delicious! First of all, the roast beef was sliced paper thin as were the onions. All of the contents seemed to be one with each other as were the flavors! The horseradish sour cream was not overpowering at all (it sometimes can be) and the bread was fresh! The Pumpernickel, I must say, is a brilliant choice for this sandwich. It added to the symphony of tastes -- with the meat and the cheese, those tasty onions, that delicious horseradish sour cream! The Smith Point makes it's point -- SANDWICH PERFECTION is possible!! 

I finished my tasty sandwich and walked a little further down the street to find all kinds of shops and restaurants. This part of town really has a lot to offer and a quick walk-through gives me some ideas for my next adventure. 

It's been a long day, but before heading home I make one last stop saving the best for last - the Cork & Fork. 

As I step through the doors I'm a little overwhelmed by the wine selection, but only because all I know of wine is that I like to drink it. Beyond that, I'm clueless. A very nice lady who works there asks me if I need any help. I tell her, "I'm just looking       for wine." Brilliant, of course I am you idiot, I think to myself. I'm in a wine store! She must think I'm an idiot now. But then, she's VERY French (lovely and French), and the French think all Americans are idiots. Anyway, I confess to her I really don't know much about wine as if she hadn't already gathered that. She then asks me a few simple questions which were easy enough to answer even with my limited understanding of wines. 

"What kind do you like," she said. 

"Red." 

"What kind of food?" 

"No food," I say. "Just sipping." 

With that, she leads me to the perfect bottle of red wine. See. It's perfect. It has sunflowers on the bottle! 

She must have intuitively known that I, like my mother, choose my wine like I choose my books -- based on the cover, or rather the picture on the bottle in this case. 

As I part ways with Cork & Fork, and the lovely French lady, she tells me "Let it breathe and it will be fine. Enjoy Madamme." 

As I'm leaving I tell her "Will do. Thank you." 

Somehow, I don't think she was talking about the wine. 

Sarcastic Funny Hot Girls That Don't Know It With Wine

I've received several kind words about my blog from some of you. Especially since my last post which included a run-in with a well dressed 40-ish year old man who had the raging hormones of a 12 year old boy.

Things like:

I love your blog.  Please don't get murdered. Love, Mom and this one ...

"I regret to inform you that you are past due on your credit card bill" ... oops not that one.  I meant this one here ...

"You actually thought he just wanted to be friends with you?  BWWAHAHAHAHAHA!!! Nice blog." 

... and my personal favorite went something like this:

You should really be cautious around government employees. Remember that one guy ... Wiener?

I still laugh every-time someone says his name.

I'm touched by your care and concern and it's got me thinking. I should be "careful" as some of you have put it and I truly heed your words. It's best not to go it alone. Even if you are an experienced roamologist such as myself. It's simply more enjoyable to roam with a friend!

Today I saw this Facebook meme.

That's what I need! A lesbian lover! Haha, made you look. You guys are so easy. I couldn't resist. 

What I need is girlfriends, but unfortunately I don't know anyone here. I have several fabulous girlfriends whom I LOVE and you all know who you are, but alas, none of you are here in the same zip code. 

So, in an effort to meet some ladies here I have launched a new group on meetup.com! 

I credit my fabulous friend Lori, my inspiration for the genius title of the group. I can't wait to see what comes of the Sarcastic Funny Hot Girls Who Don't Know It With Wine Group. If you're in Maryland please feel free to join! Here's the link.

http://www.meetup.com/Sarcastic-Funny-Hot-Girls-That-Dont-Know-It-With-Wine-Group/

Hopefully, this will work. If not, I may have to grow a beard and stop bathing ... so I can roam without being accosted by creepy men. Until next time! 

My First Saturday Night In Maryland

The Maryland winter weather is in full force today as I sit at my desk to write what will be the first of many post additions to this, my oh so small but close to my heart blog of roam. Gazillions of snow flakes are coming down in a frenzy and it makes me especially happy since work was canceled because of it.  This now leaves me with plenty of time to do the things I didn't do, but should have done this weekend (laundry) ... and with the recent discovery of "available networks" in my building I'm able to get online and tinker with this, my blog, that is ailing at the moment because I've been neglecting it, but not without acquiring some interesting adventures since arriving in Maryland.

Oh where to begin? There's the lovely French bakery I went to for breakfast and then Guapo's, quite possibly the fastest sit down restaurant EVER, but I'd like to tell you about my experience at Seasons 52 which included, to my dismay ... a lot of tongue. I'll explain later.  

This particular adventure started out at Ruby Tuesday's. Now look, I know what you're thinking.  Ruby Tuesday's? I only chose to eat there because even I, one who loves to roam about and find something different, occasionally just needs an immediate "fix", as was the case this time.  I was famished and RT was the closest thing to me.

So, here I am sitting at the bar of RT where the service, food, ambiance and overall experience is mediocre at best. But, I'm hungry and thirsty and so it will do.

About half way through my dirty vodka martini in a dirty martini glass, my asiago peppercorn steak arrives and I begin carving away ... wait, no. That's impossible when I don't even have any utensils.

Excuse me Miss. Would you be so kind as to do your job and provide me, your only customer, with a fork and a knife, said my bold inner dialogue.

"Could you get me some silverware, please." That's what I actually say. "Thank you."

... I begin carving away.

Enter strange man with nice sweater and thick European accent 

He asks if the seat next to me is taken and I reluctantly tell him no. I wish he would just go away. After all, there are 20 other open seats at the bar. Why does he have to choose this seat? While I could use some company he is not what I have in mind. Ah well, I'll just scarf down what's left of my meal and be on my merry way.

I'm trying hard not to invite any social interaction from nice sweater man, but after a few meager attempts on his part I decide to humor him, but only after I've spied his government badge hanging from his pants pocket and decide he might not be a serial killer after all ... and if he is, well then he has impeccable taste in sweaters. It looks so soft. Cashmere perhaps? A serial killer with good taste? OK!

"Hi. I'm Laura. Nice to meet you."

We chit chat over his meal since I've already inhaled mine. I should note that he orders EXACTLY what I ordered. I discover that he's actually quite enjoyable for a government employee/serial killer with impeccable taste in sweaters and as it turns out, drink and fare ... if I do say so myself.

He buys me another drink and then invites me to come with him to a place called Seasons 52, a very nice bar and restaurant,"where we can have some cocktails and enjoy live piano right at the bar," he says to me.

At this time, I would like to say that my only interest in this man is of a platonic one. We're having good conversation and that is all I'm interested in. I assume he's only interested in the same.

"It's my first Saturday night here and I'm feeling adventurous so why not? Lets go!"

We finish our drinks and we're off.

I'm pleased to have made a new friend in this strange city where I know no one. I follow him down the street to this mysterious new place I've never heard of before. My roaming nature is enthralled to experience something new under such spontaneous circumstances! As I pull into the parking space next to my new government employee/serial killer friend in the nice sweater I can't help but think how exhilarating this is!

Finally, after meandering through the parking garage, up the elevator, across the street ... we step inside what I now see is the quite swanky Seasons 52. Somehow I think my green utility jacket and combat boots add a certain charm to the place. This is what I tell myself as I try to ignore the fact that everyone in here is wearing black, semi-formal attire and I know that I'm either attending a funeral or it might be that there is a dress code.  

gasp

I ask my new friend "Who died?"

He assures me that I'm dressed fine and we both proudly take our seats at the bar.

Seasons 52 is a very nice place. It's like taking a trip into another world ... an expensive make believe world where everyone has lots and lots of money. Oh wait. I'm in Bethesda. Everyone actually does have lots and lots of money ... except for me.

I scan the menu out of curiosity. Great scott!  This is not a cheap place to grab a bite and not even for a drink unless however you're Donald Trump and then I imagine this is the rich person's equivalent of Denny's. Oh well.  YOLO and I just got payed.

The bartender takes our drink order and promptly arrives with two glasses of 12 year old scotch per my new friend's insistence that I try it. I take mine on the rocks which normally would be socially acceptable for someone of my caste because we can only afford to drink the cheap stuff which needs some watering down, but I guess when scotch is old you're not supposed to put ice in it. I had no idea.

Looking around, it's a packed house and I can see why. This place has everything. Great food, by the smell of things, ambiance, good lighting, fancy people, live music, happy bartenders, a fireplace, and ... WHOA! Is that a tongue in my mouth?  That is a tongue, but it's not mine. Oh my god you've got to be effing kidding me. 
 
My new friend, has swiftly lodged his tongue in my throat. It all happened so fast. I didn't even see it coming. One minute I was admiring how clean and shiny the silverware is, not one single water spot that I can detect. Then the next I'm being french kissed my a government employee/serial killer in a nice sweater. How odd.

With his tongue still lodged in my throat I manage to mutter the first words that come to mind "I aaaa a oyrend!"

I pry myself from his grip ... and his lip lock. "I have a boyfriend!" I promptly get up from the bar. "Please excuse me. I have to use the ladies room." Then I make a beeline for the exit making sure that he isn't following me of course.

So, that was my short lived experience at Seasons 52.

It's was nice. Seasons 52, not the tongue. But, what a shame to have it end this way. I will return someday to enjoy this fine establishment and all that it offers ... with a side of caution, hold the tongue.