Our Easter Weekend: Maryland in Bloom

Warning: this post is primarily pictures of flowers.

This past weekend was perfect in its simplicity. No pressing appointments, no to-do lists, no road trips. Just me, the husband, and the pup enjoying the spring weather and some downtime at home. Solo in the above picture accurately captures how I felt about Saturday and Sunday. Every now and then, it's just so needful to relax and simply be. 

Weekend breakfasts have become a bit of a ritual around here. Quick grab-and-go breakfasts punctuate the workweek; so taking time to cook an actual breakfast meal feels special. Mid-morning conversation over bacon and eggs, French toast, or waffles has become one of my favorite ways to reconnect with my spouse after a long work week. Breakfast on Saturdays isn't just about quick nourishment and fueling for the work day. We can actually enjoy and savor. Relax, talk, and enjoy our orange juice and coffee.

While we're on the subject of breakfast... in the great debate of Panckaes Vs. Waffles, we're definitely a waffle household. How about you?

Saturday, we walked downtown to enjoy the spring blossoms that have suddenly appeared everywhere. Blossoms sprinkle the streets; the entire city a confectionery of pink and white petals. To be honest, I have no complaints about it.

Here are a few more photos of Frederick in full bloom, from the carefully potted to the prolific wild tree.

Adveturing in D.C. and A Boat Search

Did you happen to catch last week's post Would You Live on a Boat? 

In it, I introduced you to the concept of liveaboards, turning a houseboat or yacht into your primary residence. Although more common in cities like Seattle or St. Pete Beach, our nation's capitol happens to boast one of the largest liveaboard communities. Located on the Waterfront, the floating neighborhood is docked at Gangplank Marina, where Sunday mornings consist of a "Captain's Coffee" and neighborhood cookouts are the norm. Not to mention, the metro is right there ready to take you wherever you need to go. Other than the simple face that your house is, well, floating, it sounds pretty ideal. 

So this weekend, Mark and I decided to take full advantage of the fine weather (60 degrees in February! What!?) and made the trip to DC to see Gangplank Marina for ourselves. We looked at two houseboats and one motor yacht in order to get an idea of what these boats really feel and look like. As it turns out, houseboats and yachts are surprisingly roomy. Most had more square footage than your average DC studio, along with at least two decks, washer/dryer in unit (or in boat), and a party barge at your disposal. 

We had so much fun meeting a few of the locals, who were all too friendly and welcoming. I have to say, the whole idea is appealing. Other than the idea of storm-tossed water or occasional mechanical trouble, why not make your home on a boat? The fact that the marina is less than 10 minutes from Mark's work is a huge plus as well. Mark and I left feeling pretty excited!

After checking out Gangplank Marina, Mark and I headed to Capitol Hill for lunch at one of our favorite lunch spots: Good Stuff Eatery. While their hamburgers aren't the absolute best I've ever had, their herb-coated french fries and thick creamy milkshakes are worth every penny. 

I then dragged Mark to the Botanical Gardens, one of my favorite spots on the National Mall. I never get tired of the colorful blooms, the orchid display, and the trickling water features. I feel like I could find a bench and sit there all day, reading or writing or simply people-watching. 

So do you know anyone who currently lives or once lived on a liveaboard? We'd love to know if so! Also, what are some of your favorite spots in D.C.? We're always open for suggestions on good restaurants or pretty locations. 

Curious about the DC liveaboard community?

Gangplank Marina

600 Water St SW

Washington, DC

Facebook | Website

Photo Reel // Ocean Isle Beach, NC

Last week, Mark and I unplugged our phones, disconnected our laptops, and packed our bags to roadtrip down to Ocean Isle Beach in North Carolina. Rather than posting while on vacation, I decided to take a week-long blog hiatus and spend some simple days soaking up the sun.

We dash through life in a hurry. Hurrying to get ready. Hurrying to get to work. Hurrying to get that promotion. Hurrying to pay the bills. Hurrying to answer emails, to help the customer, to meet the deadlines. Taking a week to just unplug and relax had the same affect on my brain and soul as soaking in a lavender-Epsom salt bath has on my body.

It. Was. So. Needed.

We didn't set alarms. We didn't worry about work. We didn't check our cell phones. In fact, Mark and I made a point to leave our phones at the condo whenever we went down to the seaside. I tell ya-- it's a nice day when your only worry is whether you need to apply more sunscreen after taking a dip in the ocean.

Ocean Isle Beach is located just across the Intercoastal Waterway in North Carolina, about 25 minutes north of North Myrtle Beach. While there are a number of pastel-painted houses cropping up on the tiny island, a goodly portion of Ocean Isle is devoted to salt marshes, sea grass, and sand dunes. Crabs scuttle about on the beach, and the crowds thin out during the week. As the tide rises and falls, pools of water form on the sand. Sunwarmed, these pools serve as a respite from the Southern heat. Floating aimlessly, you worry more about stepping on a jagged seashell than drifting out to sea or bumping into an inquisitive shark.

Every afternoon, a summer storm rolled onto the island. Off shore, the coming rain muddled the sky, turning crisp blue to murky grey. Like the color of decayed violets: dusky purple and opaque. Palms bent to the will of the wind as tall sea grass whipped on the dunes. There's a small, overlooked miracle: the ability of roots, burrowed into loose sand, to anchor such flimsy plants even in the face of a tempest.

Lightning splintered the clouds, purple-blue. Shattered reflections of light bounced seemingly all around you. The rage of a coastal storm seems stronger, more volatile than the mountain storms at home. The wind beats harder, tossing beach- chairs and banging shutters. All around you, the colors change. Like the over-rushed strokes of an artist's brush, violet, navy, indigo, green-grey all muddle together. Blurred color on a wet canvas, turning darker and darker.

A summer storm's rage is quickly spent. It rushes to arrive and then rushes on down the coastline. And in its wake: a sky swept clear and blue by wind and ocean waters roiling still with remembered rain.

Mark and I so enjoyed our week away. If you've never visited the Carolina coast, we highly recommend Ocean Isle Beach. Our only regret is that the week flew by too quickly and another workweek arrived too soon.

Fore beach pictures, follow us on Instagram @ampnabi

Baby Boy Shower & Bump Shots

This past weekend, Mark and I loaded his truck and drove down to Virginia to shower two of our sweet friends Ryan and Laura Beth Rirchardson. This sweet couple is expecting their first baby: a little boy. Ryan and Laura Beth have always meant so much to Mark and me over the past six years. They were instrumental forces in our dating years and have been such stalwart, generous friends to us, giving freely of their time and love. The little boy who's currently sleeping in his mommy's tummy is beyond lucky to have them as parents. The angel who made that decision chose well. 

Laura Beth was my closest childhood friend. In fact, her parents double-dated with mine. So, she and I were practically required to become friends as girls and then now as grown women. A few years older than myself, Laura Beth taught me some of the finer points of teenage girlhood: how to apply eyeshadow, how to flirt with boys, and how to shave my legs. Not in that order, though. We were so close that we often forgot whether we truly were related or not. 

Funnily enough, Mark and Ryan also grew up together. As first cousins and only a few months apart in age, they learned how to walk, how to talk, how to shoot guns, climb mountains, and get the good girls--all together. Even though I truly had nothing to do with it... I feel special and somehow proud of the fact that my best friend married Mark's best friend. Now that they're expecting their first baby, the special feeling just grows. Life stories like theirs underline the divine hand that governs our lives. 

 As little boys and teenagers themselves, Ryan and Mark loved Jeeps. They spent their summers bouncing along dirt roads, spinning their tires and slinging mud. As long as I've known Ryan, he has owned a Jeep. So a Jeep-themed shower cake was perfectly fitting for this couple.

After the shower, I convinced the couplete to let me take a few "belly shots." I just adore the way they turned out. . Laura Beth knew that she wanted a photograph of Ryan's hands on the tummy. Because he is a diesel mechanic, his hands bear the marks of his trade, a fact about her husband that Laura Beth always says she loves. Plus, there's something special about the mommy and daddy's hands on the expectant tummy. It's as if they're cradling their little baby boy already.

Do you like bump photos? I definitely do. When tastefully done, they can be so intimate and tender. I greatly appreciate the fact that photography and society has moved forward, allowing the artistic exposure female form in this special moment of life. Somehow, this bump shot captures so many feelings, especially the sense of anticipation and love. 

 We all certainly can't wait for Baby Richardson's arrival so that we can finallhy give him some much-anticipated snuggles! Love you guys!

For more maternity-style photography, click here. 

Rugged Maniac Recap

Grit in my teeth. Scraped knees. A bruise quickly developing on my right arm. Hair wiry with mud streaks. Impossibly and completely dirty.  But never have I had so much fun.

Last weekend, the six of us (Mark and I along with Mark's two brothers David and Caleb, his cousin Ryan, and his youngest brother's girlfriend Valerie) suited up to run the Rugged Maniac, a 5k run packed with 25 daunting obstacles. The obstacles ranged from simple leap over a barricade) to difficult (balancing on a shaking beam) to downright dirty (commando crawl under barbed wire). With my deplorable running skills and fear of heights, I was beyond nervous to undertake this mudrun challenge, but my handsome and beguiling hubby talked me into it. He and his brothers have done several, with the most notable being the Tough Mudder. The Rugged Maniac, however, would be my first obstacle race.

And, oh my word, was it fun!

For me, the biggest challenge in this race was not the running or the physical exertion of the obstacles (although some of that was pretty darn hard). Instead, it was facing my fears. Those who know me well know that I don't mess around with heights. I stay away from beach-hotel balconies. I do not climb ladders. I don't even like jumping up to grab the pull up bar at the gym. In short, my feet prefer to be firmly rooted to the ground. 

Insert the obstacle Beam Me Up. A straight-up wooden ladder contraption that we were expected to scale and then scramble down the other side.  With roughly ten people on the obstacle at once, shaking and rattling it as you climb. 

No, no, and another big fat NO.  

The website claims it was about 14 feet. but let me just say I'm pretty sure it was closer to 20. It may as well have been 100, though, for how terrified it made me. Had Mark and Valerie not been by my side, cheering me on, I would still be up there, clinging for dear life until the race personnel came to dissemble the course. With my friends half-coaxing, half-cheering me on, I was able to get over the Great Big Scary and tackle the next one with (somewhat) less fear. 

Why not just go around you ask? Well, what's the fun in that! If you skip every obstacle that challenges or scares you, what would be the point in running the race at all? It just goes to show that we have the ability to accomplish things we don't think we're capable of doing, if we just grin and bear it. Having awesome friends and family there to cheer you on doesn't hurt!

As scary as Beam Me Up proved to be, my least favorite obstacle by far was the fire hurdles! We jogged lazily up to it, expecting it to be a piece of cake. After all, the flames were pretty low to the ground. Holy smokes (no pun intended), were we wrong! Those fires were as hot as You-Know-What. My shorts and legs were dry in an instant after jumping over this obstacle. Ryan's expression above perfectly captures our shock at how hot it was! Sheesh!

Needless to say, the entire experience was awesome. We all had a great time, even as tuckered out as we were afterward. I highly recommend participating in the Rugged Maniac if it comes to a town near you. Mark and I are already planning our next obstacle course. It's truly a great way to spend a day with your friends and family.

Have you ever participated in a mudrun? 

Our Weekend in Photos // Spring in the City

Tax week for the self-employed is no festive holiday. We cinch our belts tighter and grumble at the happy shop posters and bulletins asking "what will YOU do with your refund?" Bah-humbug. Yet one benefit of living near a big city is the vast amount of available events and pastimes that are free. One of those delightfully free things is simply walking around the city enjoying the breathtaking spring weather. With this in mind, Mark and I woke up early Saturday and hopped a metro train to DC where we spent the day with sun on our shoulders, 

After spending the morning at the zoo (where I woefully did not take any pictures), we hiked up what seemed a never-ending hill to reach a metro station. Along the way, we passed row after row of gorgeous homes, all of which gave me googley-eyes. If only they didn't have million-dollar pricetags to accompany them.

One of my favorite places to visit in D.C is the Botanical Garden. Even though the flowers always seem the same, there's just something so tranquil about that place. So much light and color and natural beauty contained in one space, quietly growing in the center of such a bustling city.

For good eats, Mark and I love to head to Good Stuff Eatery or We the Pizza in the Capitol Hill neighborhood. These two yummy restaurants are fun places to hit if we're spending the day in the mall area. Plus, they're a relatively short walk away from the Eastern Market, one of my favorite DC attractions.

Our day concluded with sun-burned shoulders and sore feet. I don't know about you, but those two things signify a day well spent: outside in the sunshine with my honey. This weekend also reminded me that I definitely need to pull my spring and summer clothes out of storage. Sandal weather has arrived, my friends!

What did you do this weekend?  

Also, feel free to share some of your favorite DC spots!

Our Weekend in Photos

1. Opened the door to a husband with an armful of roses. The "farmer's bunch"--an ombre array of red, pink, orange, and yellow long-stemmed roses--filled our little dining room with rose perfume.

2. Enjoyed the bright flowers and oil paintings in our dining room, colors that livened the inside despite the dreary weather outside. 

3. Cooked chicken vino bianco with linguine, homemade sourdough bread, dark chocolate vinagerett, and creamy peanut butter pie for dessert. Why venture into the holiday hordes when you can do romantic at home?

4. Considered a blind date with a book at our local book store. Is this not the best idea?

5. Finally finished this squishy-soft baby blanket for a sweet friend whose baby is due in a few weeks. I love the colors, a gradient of burnt oranges and creams.

6. Snuggled with this fluff ball. Even after a year, his polka-dot ear still kills me. And look at that teensy little paw.

How was your weekend? Did you survive the onslaught of winter weather?

Weekend Photo Reel

Lately, Mark and I have been spending our weekends in the woods. Saturday mornings found us eating a yummy breakfast, stuffing a daypack with a few necessities (camera, water, granola), and unfolding a map of Maryland. Last weekend we found the first Washington Monument. The weekend before that, we hiked to Cunningham Falls.

Mark loves to hike. Seriously, that boy. He would rather be in the woods, walking a quiet path, than anything else. And of all the quiet paths to be found, he particularly loves the Appalachian Trail. Friday night, he called me to his desk, where images of trail shelters were displayed on his computer screen.  "Let's hike to this one," he suggested.

Once again, I found myself lacing my hiking boots and checking my camera's battery. Mark loves to hike; I love to take photographs--it's a happy union.

"

Compared to other trails, the A.T. is a quiet, unassuming. It's fluctuates and shifts, changing form and shape as you walk. In some spots, it's as broad as a back-country road; in other places, it shrinks to a boot's width. Because our summer has been uncharacteristically mild and wet, the undergrowth was tangled, wild, and green. Wildflowers clustered on the trailsides. Fungi sprawled across the fallen treetrunks, slowing transforming their dry bark into some new being, alive and moist.

On the A.T., passing another hiker is a encapsulated moment of kind human interaction. More often than not stooped under a heavy pack, the passerby meets your eyes, nods, and smiles. "Great day for a hike." "Do you have the time?" "Nice to see you." There's no nameless shuffling or eye avoidance; there is no grocery-store aloofness. Whether he's been on the trail for a month or a day, the hiker is happy to see you, to cheer you on, to share a beautiful day.

Leave no trace--the A.T. missive and the mantra of any respectful hiker. At Rocky Run shelter, we met three middle-aged men: the Canadian, Old Guy from Florida, and Tin Can Dan. Each man was section-hiking the trail, alone. Somehow, they three arrived at Rock Run on the same day Mark and I decided to go for an extended walk in the woods. Five paths converged at one shelter, in one moment. They had plenty of ear-pulls and head-pats for Solo.

Tin Can Dan, so named because of his homemade camping gear, shared news of the graffiti and vandalism he had spotted at shelters further north. "All it is, is a rock. Or an old log lean-to. But people feel the need to mark it up, tear it down." Emboldened by his indignation, Tin Can pointed to his baseball cap. "Look for a man with a U.S.S. Ronald Reagan cap on TV, marching on Washington. I'm gonna try to raise some money, see who all I can get behind me. I got six grandkids who I want to hike this trail someday,  but there's gotta be a trail left to hike. All this, of course, if this chicken-egg growing in my chest don't get me first."

As Mark and I packed to leave, having eaten our lunch with three strangers, Tin Can's eyebrows raised. "Leaving already? Did I talk too much? I usually do. The woods do that to you, after awhile."

He waved us on, and we wished him luck and safety for his long walk to Georgia. As we walked north, he shouted for us to remember his warning: leave no trace. The Vietnam vet, with his scrappy arms, battered hat, and round glasses, will never cross our paths again (unless of course he succeeds in his Washington dreams). But his last shouted missive followed us on our walk back to the car. Because of him, I stepped a little more carefully, noted the smaller flowers and unfurling greenery, realized the extraordinary resilience and fragility of the trail's beauty.

About a mile from the parking lot, a flicker of blue, underfoot, caught my eye. Stooping, I picked up a single butterfly wing. Why was it lying on the path? Had a wind scooped it up, deposited it here? How it had survived all those men and their booted feet--our booted feet as we strode past? I considered pocketing it and taking it home, to press into the pages of some unused book. I shifted it to my other palm...and noticed a blue stain on my thumb. Glitter and dust--one touch had already damaged the wing's delicate powder.

"More will wear off, the further you carry it," Mark noted.

I tilted my hand and let the wing flutter and fall back to the ground, where it settled on a patch of bare earth. Leave no trace. We walked on.