Everyone is afforded a summer hiatus and while mine has not been formulate and structured as such, I hope you will not hold my silence against me. Nor the slighly ineloquent lines to follow.

It is certainly not for lack of interesting material that has stayed my pen (or the millennial version thereof). My new job has been in a word, amazing. Who knew working with the government with lead to photo shoots with high fashion magazines, dinners and meetings with celebrities of stage, screen and politics and travels to countries I have, til now, only visited in my wildest dreams.

My personal and professional relationships are for once developing as opposed to experiencing an uneven erosion. Not to mention Batman: The Dark Knight is out – FINALLY. IMAX, here I come!

While never having relinquished my District of Columbia residency, I have worked for the past two years, in the isolation of the state across the moat – more specifically referred to as the Commonwealth of Virginia. And while it was pivotal to my professional development, I sorely missed the feeling to working in the nation’s capitol. I LOVE, L-O-V-E working in DC once again and feeling the pulse of this city driving my days and weeks. I adore looking out my office window to find the  national symbols of the Capitol and Washington monuments reflecting the afternoon sun (being no more than ten minutes away from any given happy hour isn’t bad either).

I feel like for the first time in a long time, that I’m doing what I came to this city to do – that I’m where I’m supposed to be and doing work that is historic and that matters.

Could this be the wide eyed optimism of a newly minted cog in the governmental propaganda machine? Perhaps. But I don’t think I’ve given optimism much of a chance lately so maybe it’s time that I dusted it off and invited it out for a cocktail.

Cheers,

Every morning for at least the past 9 months, I would stop at the top of the escalators of the Dupont Circle metro station and receive a copy of the Washington Examiner.

Not because I particularly enjoyed reading the Examiner as opposed to the Express. In truth, the Express is laid out in a more reader friendly, consolidated manner and has a more challenging Sudoku puzzle – the true litmus test of quality for any printed publication. (Plus they have the Blog Log section!)

The reason why I picked up this daily tabloid other than a seemingly endless desire to add bulk to my already inexplicable amount of “stuff” I insist on carrying around with me on a daily basis (because you never know WHEN you’re going to need a curling iron!) was because of the lady who gave it to me.

She is petite, I’d estimate in her mid 40’s, with a British accent, which made her especially likeable. As we all know, variations of English accents make EVERYONE likeable – I mean, just look at Tony Blair. But accent or no, there she was, every morning, rain or shine, like clockwork, handing me my paper, and saying ‘thank you, have a good day, sweetie’.

No, I didn’t care about the Examiner at all and upon receiving it from her in the morning it would inevitably be tossed in the recycling bin at the bottom of the escalators or left on my metro seat upon transferring lines. But I still took it from her every morning as I didn’t know if she got to go home once all of her papers were gone – if she received a bonus for getting rid of her papers faster than the Express man beside her and therefore, somehow I felt obliged to help her meet this quota or goal that might or might not have been imagined.

Still, there was something mildly fascinating about this woman. Every morning, this lady, who I had no idea how she came to be handing out papers at Metro stations in Washington, DC, would greet me with a smile and a ‘have a nice day, sweetie’. She even gave me a Christmas card one snowy morning this past December that read “Merry Christmas, thank you for all of your support”. Her smile became my morning send off, an addendum to my morning routine and added to the daily sparkle of living in this city and all the little things that make it special.

But then this Monday morning, while I was wheezing and coughing and sneezing my way to the Metro, I noticed her absence. I thought nothing of it, just that I was a tad relieved that I wouldn’t have to lug a paper around with me when my ability to breathe was fast becoming the paramount distraction in my life. But then I saw through my DayQuil haze that she wasn’t there on Tuesday morning either. On Wednesday, the Express man was very nice and said good morning while holding out a paper that I took reluctantly as I walked by. But today, someone else tried to hand me an Examiner. And it wasn’t the cute little lady. And I’m pretty sure he didn’t have a British accent.

Where did you go cute little British lady, so helpful, smiley and eagre to hand me your daily sub-par written tabloid printed on recycled newspaper? Did you grow tired of Dupont? Have you been promoted to a more prestigious corner in posh Georgetown or busy Metro Center?

How guilty I feel now that I was always running too late or too preoccupied with my own silly little life to ask you about yours. Or to say 'thank you' for your smiles as you gave me a newspaper and a smile every morning for months on end . I never returned the favor with a cup of coffee or even stopped to ask you how you came to be handing out Examiners in the rain on the steps of the Dupont Circle metro station. I'm sorry.

Sigh. Wherever you are, Examiner lady, I hope you “Have a nice day, sweetie”.

Frankly,

So New York was amazing – as always. I went for work – but made time for friends, fun and food….way too much food. I always seem to eat too much when I’m in New York. Ugh. The pizza, the Italian food, the cocktails, the cheesecake. I’m in desperate need of calorie detox.

I don’t know what it is about New York – or big cities in general that I just fall in love with. DC doesn’t seem to qualify in this category. Perhaps it’s the lack of skyscrapers, the absence of buildings that span vertically beyond the DC regulation fifteen floors inspiring awe and neck strain as one attempts to take in their sheer magnitude and height. After all, size does matter. Maybe it’s the lack of universal grime, garbage and utter filth that coats the subways, streets and sidewalks of the Big Apple. Or it could be the West Side Story-esque urban jungle comprised of vines of fireescapes, ladders climbing the walls of buildings and apartments; the sensory overload of Time’s Square; or the allure of all things cultured and fashionable.

DC seems to pale in comparison. Perhaps it’s the more sedate, cerebral, almost southern propriety the city seems to exude (Saturday night at the corner of Connecticut and M St. not withstanding). It truly is a small town in big city clothing. And, to tell you the truth, I much prefer it. I prefer the monuments to skyscrapers, testiments to American heros past; I prefer the halls of congress to the hustle and bustle of Penn Station; and I prefer my own little Dupont Circle to the sprawl of Central Park.

The other comparison I found myself making  while in New York was the men. The streets of New York are crawling with tall, dark and handsome, gorgeous men! It was like being in a Jimmy Choo store and not knowing which strappy sandal to try on first! Utterly overwhelming as they passed by with their perfect suits – oozing personas of success…yummy. Then a gust of wind (damn its cold up there btw) brought me back to reality as I realized: ‘Ah yes. If Sex & the City has taught us anything, it’s that they’d most likely turn out to be workaholic, commitment phobic, sexual deviants.'

Then I thought: why is this so different from DC guys? DC men wear nice suits, they are also driven and ambitious and conveniently enough are also workaholic, commitment phobes. So basically I’m screwed in whichever metropolitan area I choose to live in. Yea for me!

However, the situation is not QUITE as hopeless as it seems. One New Yorker took me out to a beautiful Italian restaurant on Tuesday night and to a cute little bar afterwards - had so much fun! It was a wonderful trip, even if I am glad to be back in DC where I belong.

Frankly,