Rachel is my buddy and partner-in-crime; one day we will open up our “Cupcakes ‘n Tatas” topless bakery. It will be amazing. As will our boobies. Rachel blogs at Bananas, Continued and is also ddayporter on APW. Which I have to call her on a regular basis because if I call her “Rachel,” Meg and Lauren have no idea who I’m talking about.
Fun fact about Rachel you (and she) didn’t know: Rachel makes dance parties happen wherever she goes. She once walked into a Starbucks, pointed at the barista and “In the Aeroplane Over the Sea” by neutral milk hotel started playing. They then did a full-length pas de deux until the song ended, at which time Rachel stopped, grabbed someone’s frappucino and then walked out the door.
Those there later described it as the most important event in their life thus far.
What would you eat if it were your last meal?
For some reason my first reaction to this question was to wonder what got me onto death row.. Did I finally snap and go on a shooting rampage in the House Republican caucus?? (jk I would never do that. I’m pretty sure.) My last meal, assuming I wasn’t stricken with no appetite at the thought of dying shortly afterward: first course would be goat cheese flan and a jalapeno popper (in that order). A scoop of sorbet to clear my pallet (never had a fancy enough dinner to experience this but I’ve heard it’s nice). Main dish would be panang curry (with sea scallops and lobster, maybe some shrimps), with a side of perfectly roasted asparagus. I would of course be washing all of this down with champagne (I’m not overly concerned with proper wine pairings for my last meal. Just gimme da sparkler!). For dessert, cheesecake with fresh strawberries, with a dark chocolate fountain nearby for dipping. And more champagne. And some bacon?? Gotta fit some bacon in there somewhere.
What is your dream job(s)?
Working from an office attached to my house, as a marriage and family therapist. Specializing in pre-marriage counseling, with mainly APW couples. Hee. My side job would be exercise motivation, maybe being a kickboxing instructor or a long-distance running coach (for beginners). My volunteer work would include being a mentor for teenage girls.
Describe your perfect day.
It is springtime. It’s a Sunday where it’s Zach’s turn to take the dog for a walk first thing, so I have about 30 minutes of quiet morning time. I start the coffee and bring in the paper. I wander around the apartment in my underwear, dancing to something awesome, maybe Psycho Killer by the Talking Heads. Qu’est-ce que C’EST!? Zach and Brady get back and we make epic pancakes and lots of bacon. Zach reads the paper while I go straight for Date Lab in Washington Post magazine, and then try to do some of the crossword. I fail, Zach tries to help. We fail. We realize it’s gorgeous outside, and I grudgingly agree to put on a bra.
We walk down to the farmer’s market and sample pickles and cheeses and salsas and coffee and smell soaps and gawk at the hunks of meat on display (and I feel no guilt for sampling with no intention of buying any of it, because this is the perfect day). Maybe we buy some asparagus. Brady is good and doesn’t jump on any little kids. We meander back through the neighborhoods to our apartment, maybe watch some goofy tv or take a nap.
In the afternoon we pack a lunch and some dog treats and head to Teddy Roosevelt Island, on the Potomac, and wander our old walking routes, find the bench where we got engaged, and just sit for a while. Brady gets bored and then sees a raccoon and freaks out. We eat lunch under the gigantic statue of Teddy Roosevelt, and laugh at Brady being afraid of the water fountains. We go home, watch some goofy tv, maybe nap. In the evening we leave Brady in our bedroom and walk up to grab drinks on the rooftop or patio of some bar, some friends meet us there. We walk home through neighborhoods filled with blooming things and glorious spring fragrances and point out the houses we’d like to own one day, and shake our heads at the ones we think are dead ugly. We get home in time to watch Bob’s Burgers. I take Brady out for his last walk of the day, he’s nice and poops somewhere well-lit, instead of the darkest stretch of scrub he can find. He is very well behaved and doesn’t jump on the lady who likes to lecture us about training our dog properly (meanwhile her dog is jumping around yapping its mean little face off and not listening to her while she sternly tells him to sit). We come back inside and Zach turns on Sweet Disposition by the Temper Trap, which played at our wedding, and we slow dance in the living room (I try not to tear up). Brady gets jealous and jumps on us. We exclaim at his cuteness, and go to bed.
What would be your dream trip?
There are a few different categories of trips I dream about: By myself/ with Zach only/with friends only/with family/other group. Within the “with Zach only” category, there are a couple different types: giving him a tour of my youth (we moved around a Lot)/ exploring new places together. Also my dreams change a lot (I’m easily swayed by pretty movies, is one reason). Currently I’m dreaming of a trip to the Mediterranean. I’m thinking a cruise, with extended stops in Morocco, Spain and France. I really want to get to Greece too but that’s probably another trip. I have no specific requirements for this trip, beyond drinking lots of wine and swimming naked in the Mediterranean (life list FTW).
What is your favorite piece of clothing?
My grey loungey pants I’ve had since 1998-ish. I was heavier back then so now they seem gigantic on me and it’s a nice reminder on days I feel like a whale, that I had worse days, and should be happy with my body. They are nearing their end (a few inexplicable holes along the butt seam.. maybe my gas really is that firey) and I don’t know how I’ll ever replace them. Second favorite: my salmon-colored sundress. Most comfortable dress evAR.
Tell me about a time when you surprised yourself.
I think finishing my first marathon was a pretty big surprise. Not like bam! Surprise! When something takes you 6 months of training and then 6 hours of doing, not going to come as much of a shock. But in a bigger picture way, for the me that was not much of a runner at all when she decided in May 2006 that yes she would join the AIDS Marathon fundraising/training program and run the Marine Corps Marathon. That me would be surprised that I followed through and did the damn thing (managing to raise like $2K might actually have been even more surprising). Of course, I probably never could have done it if my superawesome friend Amber hadn’t joined the program and followed through with me. Still. Bad surprise: when it was all over, I did not look like Joan Benoit circa 1984. What the crap.
What is the first thing you can remember wanting to be when you grew up?
Can’t remember which came first, actress or beautician. I think the first thing I wanted to be was a beautician, basically because I loved nail polish and my sisters let me paint their nails sometimes and it was awesome (I’m pretty sure I learned the word “beautician” by asking my mom how I could make a career out of painting peoples nails). And I LOVED playing dress-up and getting into my mom’s make-up. And then maybe I realized I was actually terrible at applying both nail polish and make-up, so I should be an actress and let other people do it for me.
What’s your favorite pizza topping(s)?
What ISN’T my favorite pizza topping(s)? Food questions are really hard for me, I just love so much of it. My go-to pizza-delivery type of pizza is hawaiian. Love me some hot pineapple. But when I make my own, I usually go for lots of veggies, maybe some grilled chicken, peppadews and goat cheese.
What is your biggest fear?
For some reason I feel a bit ridiculous for this but, my biggest fear (other than the sudden death of my husband, which I don’t count because I refuse to acknowledge it as a real possibility), is not being able to conceive. There are a whole host of reasons I tell myself that’s silly, but there it is. I rilly [sic] want to be pregnant, and have a little baby that grows up to look like a mash-up of its parents’ faces (yup just called a baby an it). There are other reasons I would like to have children, and those reasons are what I tell myself when I start thinking about this (I could list them but it’s not really the point). Adoption is a totally viable option, in the safe places in my brain and heart. But there’s still a corner that is afraid of being shattered by infertility. (and no I don’t have any known conditions that are sure to make conception difficult. I really have no compelling reason to fear this. It’s just there). I will say that within the last few months, I’ve felt less terrified by this, partly because of this community I’ve been able to feel a part of. I know women (mostly via the internets but whatever) who have struggled with this, and with miscarriages, so I know if it happens to us I’ll have wise women to turn to. That helps. I’m sure as soon as we do conceive or bring a child into our life in whatever way we end up doing it, my intense fear will shift to failing at being a parent. One thing at a time though.
If your home was featured on any show/blog, what would it be?
(If you say Cribs, you have to point out where the magic happens.) Umm Hoarders? Haha well not quite that bad. But is there a blog devoted to cluttery apartments that needed dusting weeks ago? That are almost entirely furnished with mismatching Good Will/craigslist finds, and badly in need of some freaking curtains? If so please send me the link.
If you could ask me (Alyssa) anything, what would it be?
If you could be any animal, what would you be? Or, (nerd alert) if you read the golden compass, which animal would you pick as your daemon?
Ooo. Umm…if I could be any animal, it’d probably be a eagle or a dolphin. Only because I think flying and swimming in the ocean all day would be pretty rad, and those animals are pretty high on the food chain so I wouldn’t get eaten my first day out. (Plus, I wa a Lisa Frank fan as a tween, so I HAVE to think dolphins are amazing and are always leaping out of multi-colored water with hearts around their head and smiles on their faces.)
My daemon would probably be a dog. Something with random bursts of energy and is easily distracted. In fact, I’m nto sure that Maggie isn’t my daemon…we do both love cheese…