Snow!!

We got our snow day after all. Actually, the DMV shut down for most of the week over a foot or so of the white stuff, but after a lazy day at home which included snowshoeing (me), hunting (take a wild guess), and a highly suspect game of billiards on the finally-clean pool table (I won, if that tells you anything), it was time to brave the icy roads and get back to work. I felt terrible for the people with kids- schools were closed for most of the week, which was taking our “inclement weather” a little far, we thought. Just ask North Dakota residents.

Besides, we had tons on the calendar for the week. Seth got us tickets to see Shen Yun, a gorgeous show with a world-renowned Chinese dance company, at the Kennedy Center. It was our first trip there, and we got all dressed up and felt very cosmopolitan. Of course, we finished the night at Rock Bottom downing bar food and beers off the late night menu, so some things never change.

The following night, I had gotten us tickets forever ago (and nearly forgotten about them) to see Robert Earl Keen at the Birchmere. Our friends who warned us not to eat there had been correct, although we unwisely disregarded their advice, but they did have Shiner. And a very interesting crowd which included the usual hipster suspects, every real Texan within driving distance, and one very old lady doing the twist in a pink flowered pantsuit. We had a blast, and the show was terrific.

We had a quiet, at-home Friday night, and spent the cold, gray weekend surrounded by friends and food. Just the way we like it. The highly-anticipated polar plunge was cancelled at the last minute, to my disappointment and disgust (they didn’t think it would be cold?!), but we slept in and hit the home gym instead. Seth had a boys’ night involving giant steaks and monster trucks, and I got to catch up with Michelle and Kaelee over wine and Indian takeout (which nobody’s husband likes, so that was a win.)

Sunday saw the master chef at work again, making another vat of venison chili and lots of grilled meat. Our friends Lily and Dave are stuck at Walter Reed after he took some shrapnel in the eye, and with two young kids on their hands they needed to get out of their tiny apartment. Michelle and Josh brought the kids over, and we had a veritable feast while taking turns refereeing the kid circus. It was a little arctic for us to drag out all our new outside games (between Christmas and Seth’s recent round of ordering,  we could set up a backyard Olympics) and for Seth to show off his new BB gun (probably to the relief of the parent crowd.) We finished off the weekend with the Pro Bowl and Duck Dynasty on the DVR. We usually like to be on the go, but sometimes a weekend at home is just what the doctor ordered.

The photo of the week is one of my favorites ever. Lots going on in this one. This is what happens when you leave the boys in charge.

Recipe for a Killer Long Weekend

It might be my very favorite thing, spending time in the kitchen with my husband. It doesn't happen very often, since during the week I'm in tornado mode when I'm home, or we're tag-teaming chores so we can get a few minutes of chill time between commute and bed. And since we like to squeeze every second out of our weekends, we usually come screaming into the driveway on Sunday night in just enough time to throw dirty laundry in and scrounge for frozen leftovers.

It had definitely been one of those weeks, although I had squeezed in a painful but fabulous hot yoga date with Lily, and Seth had killed a couple deer, a rare "double" with a crossbow. Our long weekend plans to drive to Ohio to see the Laneys and meet the new baby fell through at the last minute when the littlest Laney got sick. I wanted to go snowboarding, as hasty plan which also went south when we realized there was no snow within driving distance in any direction. So Seth won the toss, and we headed to the Eastern Shore to shoot waterfowl. We've got the compromise thing figured out by now: we stayed at the stupendous Hyatt Regency Chesapeake, a beautiful resort with pools and bars and an indoor/outdoor hot tub and a huge gym that sparkles.

Saturday morning found us shivering in a duck blind with a couple of other wounded warriors and a hilarious rich guy who owns grocery stores and a chunk of hunting land adjacent to a wildlife refuge. Duck hunting is way less boring than deer hunting, at least partly because you can talk and have coffee and snacks. I had a new 12 gauge too, which Seth had spent all Friday shopping for, settling on a child-sized, camo-patterned Mossberg, and surprising me with it before dinner Friday. I couldn't wait to shoot it (and really wanted to kill a Canada goose, my running nemesis.)

Unfortunately, it was windy- and at times snowy- which should've brought the ducks in droves, but for some reason they weren't taking the bait. We got a couple- almost impossible to tell who shot what, I found- but mostly played with the goofy duck dog, ate sugar cookies, and tried to stay warm. I had a blast. Seth wasn't shushing me the whole time, and the new gun was a blast. I could definitely get used to this kind of hunting.

Still, 5 hours is pretty much my limit, and I bailed at lunch for amazing fajitas and Coronas at Don Chuy's, followed by a run along the bay and a dip in the hot tub with sunset views across the water. Seth went back to the woods to stalk deer. To each his own and all, but I definitely felt like I came out ahead. We had wood-fired pizzas for dinner downtown, with live music and good beer, and slept in late enough the next morning that we barely had time for a morning hot tub soak before checkout and brunch. (Cambridge, MD turns out to be a super cool town, with a historic waterfront and a ton of amazing restaurants. Even if the "no mimosas before noon on Sundays" rule chafed a little.)

It was a great getaway, and having escaped town on Friday made it feel like a long weekend, even without Monday. Which felt like a total free day, and found us staying in bed until an obscenely late hour and then just enjoying being home. I went for a long run with Steph and Bex, who was in town, and it felt like old times on a beautifully warm and sunny day. I came home to a messy kitchen and the smell of venison chili, and took the opportunity to chop vegetables while Seth tried to figure out how to get tomato sauce on all four walls and the ceiling. I love being in the kitchen with him enough that it's worth the cleanup, which is saying a lot.

Monday night we had one of our "every so often" trips into the city to remind ourselves why we don't do it more often. It was restaurant week, and we had a terrific meal at Oyamel, a Mexican cucina, with friends. Still, it was crazy expensive and the parking was a nightmare and the crowd was very, very hip. 

We were happy to retreat to Bethesda, and find that we much prefer our Sunday night "football and mimosas" tradition. Yes, Seth participates. Here's the evidence. Like duck hunting/ spa weekends, it's a pretty killer compromise that keeps us both happy. Even if it sounds a little weird. 

Photo of the week has to be the one I took of Seth's venison chili. Unsurprisingly, it appears to consist almost entirely of meat.

Oh, and we took this one at dinner. The Charlottesville Fam, minus Ryan. It was great to catch up with the old crew.

Of Bad Dates, Great Pizza, and Fun at the Range

My husband is a smart, opinionated guy, given to expansive lectures on any number of topics and a soft spot for knowing the most and being the right-est. His brain is probably what did me in, what feels like ages ago, since I’ll admit that I originally thought he was too pretty to be all that smart. Being way, way wrong was one of the most pleasant surprises of my life.

At any rate, we’re a lot alike, and that means we butt heads sometimes. We should really know better than to schedule date night at the end of a long week, when we’re both tired and a little more touchy than usual.

We checked out a new place on Friday, the Tower Oaks Lodge in Rockville, after a week of horrific weather and worse traffic and a lot of late nights working on a huge 62 appeal (me) and grad school admission packets (him.) We loved the place, all lit up with Christmas lights and decorated with big wood beams and rustic accents, with canoes hanging from the ceiling and ducks tacked to the walls. Still, halfway through dinner Seth (inadvertently, he claims) insulted me, and I pouted, and we endured a silent ride home.

I suppose that’s what marriage is all about. Knowing each other, and your collective strengths and weaknesses, and when to push, and when to shelve your feelings, and when to just stay home in sweats. We’re working on it. I suppose most married people are. It feels like one of those "work in progress" things.

I fled for Richmond and a much-needed girls’ night the next morning, and Seth went hunting for the millionth time that week. (Fighting traffic and deadlines while he gets to hang out in the woods perhaps, sometimes, maybe contributes to a shorter-than-usual fuse on my part.) I hadn’t seen Heather in ages, and the original plan for a wild night on the town gave way, predictably, to leisurely shopping, a manicure, and drinks at the bar on a Noah’s Ark-kind of rainy day. We went downtown for tapas and wine, and were in bed by midnight, which we decided was the new thing: the “grown up girls’ night.” Heavy on the sleep. After a stupendously relaxing massage and a mimosa brunch Sunday, I headed home, with a plan to stop at Wegman’s, change into sweats, consume a few mimosas on the couch while pretending to care about whatever playoff game was on TV, and forgive my stubborn husband for being a know-it-all.

Halfway there, he texted me with some sort of harebrained scheme that involved me meeting him at a Virginia gun store so we could circumvent Maryland gun laws by my signing for whatever his latest purchase was. He thought he’d sweeten the pot with the offer of some couples’ range time. I can’t say I was thrilled about the prospect, but figured I owed him for my desertion.

And of course it was a terrific time. I’m a reasonably good shot, but Seth is encyclopedic about guns and shooting and anything related to either. Plus, he really enjoys shooting, which is contagious, and is particularly adorable about how much fun he has shooting with his wife. I think he thinks it’s the ultimate couples activity. I can think of a few that top it, but we had an excellent afternoon. And I still got my mimosas on the couch.

And because a happy husband is apparently a really helpful husband, after a painfully long Monday, I came home to this. Homemade pizza, with tons of veggies. And wine. We may butt heads from time to time, but I definitely can’t complain. Life is good. And well-timed girls' nights are invaluable.

And Seth makes really, really good pizza.

Picture of the week is of our adorable (and so grown up!) niece, Natalie, with the stir fry set we got her for Christmas.

 

Ringing in the New Year

I stepped off the plane at Reagan tired, cranky, and already late for work. I had taken the morning redeye back to the grind while Seth stayed in North Dakota for another few days of sleeping in and drinking beer and ice fishing. I was a tad disgruntled about this inequity, to say the least.

But at least it was warmer in DC. About 40 degrees warmer, in fact. That cheered me up a little as I wriggled into my uniform in the parking lot and inched along the parkway in late morning traffic. And I already had plans for an old school slumber party at Mom and Dad’s, since Missy was in town for the week.

And so went the week, that week between Christmas and New Year’s that is always a chaotic jumble of the residue of one holiday, the buildup to another, and the sad fact that there are still workdays in the middle. I shortened my work schedule as much as I could and raced around town trying to catch a bit of the Walters family fun I was missing: stalking Mom in the pool, drinking beer over pass the pigs after work, and once even meeting Missy and Mom in uniform partway up the Billy Goat Trail. (I got a few stares, but also a nice hike on a weekday!) I did steal Missy for a quick trip to Charlottesville on Saturday, and we had a blast. We hiked up to Monticello in embarrassingly beautiful 60 degree weather, had soup and beer on the downtown mall, and met Mom and Dad for amazing pizza in Sperryville after their epic Shenandoah hike. Annddd we somehow found time for facials and wine and Christmas lights- always a win.

Seth made it back from the great white north in time for New Year’s Eve, the Niemans having previously decided against fighting the outrageous traffic and crowds and parking hell endemic to the DC bar scene on a holiday. Instead, Seth spent all day smoking platters and platters of various meats, and we had the family and Michelle and Josh over for games and champagne and a carnivorous feast. Oh, and a little crossbow shooting. A good time was definitely had by all, the vicious Walters family tradition of writing new year’s resolutions for each other notwithstanding.

And then, a little unceremoniously, the holidays were over and Missy was gone and the rest of us headed back to the salt mines. (Well, except for Seth, who was giving himself a holiday “grace period” consisting largely of hunting-- but I’ll give him that putting up with me on solo back-to-work-week probably earned him some solitary treestand time.) We were beat, totally unwilling to deal with taking down Christmas decorations or writing thank yous, and already way over our unoriginal new year’s resolutions (drink less, work out more, blah).

Inspired by mine and Michelle’s annual tradition of celebrating holiday survival with pedicures and wine, we embarked on a weekend getaway to the mountains instead. Although I learned the hard way that “relaxing couples time” is not to be had in a resort with a casino when one has a card-playing husband, we came home feeling rejuvenated after a snowy walk in the woods (clad in orange and toting heavy weaponry, of course), another NDSU national championship win, and a trip to the nation’s first hot springs. Rested, massaged, and even contemplating Christmas light removal, we’re officially ready to tackle 2014.

The photo of the week has to be Missy at the “Nieman Family New Year.” Crossbow and all. (Although the one just above is also pretty cool- at George Washington's own personal hot springs "bathtub" in Berkeley Springs, WV.)

Oh, and one more. Seth wanted me to add this one of his culinary masterpieces from New Year's Eve.