Inside the Beltway

Washington D.C. is an amazing town. It's where laws are debated, passed, and vetoed. It was designed to be the most intimidating city on the planet (and actually IS the most intimidating city on the planet). It holds almost as much history as Jamestown, Virginia (the first English settlement in America, for you non-American-history peeps), and it has some of the best museums in America honoring people and cultures from all over the world.
Even though I was there for work, and was stuck in conference rooms for the majority of the time I was there, I still managed to get out and have a blast (sacrificing sleep in the process). Seriously. Here's my timeline (and I'm not sure how I survived):

• Friday
• Arrive at 6pm
• Dinner at 7pm
• Drinks until 4am (totally excessive) Saturday
• Saturday
• Up at 10am
• Meeting from 12pm-9pm
• After dinner drinks til 10pm
• Excessive drinking until 2am Sunday
• Sunday
• Up at 6am
• Meeting from 7am-5pm
• Drinks at 6pm
• Dinner at 7pm
• Passed the **F** out at 11pm
• Monday
• Up at 6:30am
• Meeting from 8am to 12:30pm
• Lunch meeting from 12:30 to 2:30pm
• Depart for airport (to arrive back in CA at 11pm. HOWEVER...)
• Missed connection in Denver, stay night in Denver with old high school friend.
• In bed at 1am (3am East Coast Time) 
• Tuesday
• Up at 10am to catch 12:30 flight
• Home by 3pm

I. Might. Die.

However, the places I did all the excessive consumption is what makes DC amazing.

Old Ebbitts, the 4th busiest restaurant in the country, one of the oldest, open til 3am, with a late night menu starting at 11pm, the best bartender on the planet (Brian, the Scot who loves Reggae music) and not one, but THREE amazing bars to choose from. Also a standard stomping ground for Congress and the President (many of them).

Ceiba, only the best mojitos, shrimp and taco nachos and fish tacos in the city, and within walking distance from Old Ebbitt Grill and the White House.

The Robins Nest at the Willard Hotel, this is only the place where the term "lobbyist" was originated. There's enough history here to knock Mrs. Deveroux, by High School History Teacher over (and she wasn't a petite woman).

These are just a few.  There are more, but I will have to reserve them for another post. For now, I bid adieu to the place that has given me so many wonderful memories, so many sleepless nights, and rarely changes from year to year.

Happy 'Merika Weekend!

I loooooove me some American pride. I cry during the Star Spangled Banner, I get chills whenever there's a fly-by, and celebrating the birth of our fine nation is one of my favorite holidays. I am an all-American girl from a small town who knows how to shoot a gun, flies a flag outside her apartment and will spend more time at the monuments in Washington, DC than at the bars. The sad part is, most people would jump to the conclusion that I am a redneck, white trash, a card-carrying member of the NRA (and since when would that be a BAD thing?)... rest assured, I am none of those things. In fact, I'm pretty classy y'all. I sail. I'm a member of the Yacht Club. I've been out of the country more than most (and not just to Canada and Mexico). I live in Santa-Fucking-Barbara for Pete's sake.

But I digress...

Somehow, I have managed to get myself a spot in the 4th of July parade. I will be carrying the Arizona flag down the main drag in Santa Barbara before jetting off to two BBQs and some fireworks. How these things happen I have no idea. It's probably because I'm awesome.

I just want everyone to take pause this weekend, think about why most of us get an extra day off of work, why we allow ourselves to stuff our faces with pig-parts no one wants to think about and the wonders of barely and hops. Happy Birthday 'Merika! Thank you for being you!