It's a girl!!!!

We are so happy that my sister got a girl! We all wanted a girl. Not that we wouldn't love a boy. But girls are just cutter. Also, I grew up with a sister. I wouldn't even know what to do with a boy. But I can certainly teach a girl to go shopping, or use make up, or about boys:)
She's adorable! It's only a cell phone picture because this auntie doesn't have her act together yet.

Being in hell

I have never understood why women have to suffer so much in order to have a child. Also, why men don't have to suffer at all. It's the most unfair situation in the entire world, that I can recall. Who ever created us, either God or the nature, must be a misogynist.
At first, you get so nauseated for at least three months, and there's no cure for it. Then you carry the baby who gets heavier and heavier inside yourself, inside your belly for nine months! And then you give painful, long birth. Any sense in all that?
Why couldn't it be easy like, for example, I believe hens have it. Now, I don't know if delivering an egg for a hen is easier than a baby for a woman, but it seems that way, from my perspective. Then penguins too! But fish seemed to be the most advanced in that.
It is ridiculous, most outrages unfairness in the history. And there's no end to it in sight. At least the slavery and other injustices have been undone. This one? Not any time soon. Not in my lifetime.
I know, they came up with epidural and the C section. Let's see. The epidural is a huge needle in your back. I want to see how many men would volunteer for that. And the C section? It's the whole operation. Someone is cutting your body. And you have a long recovery period and a scar, of course, if you wake up from it. Outrageous!
No, I'm not pregnant. You're guessing already. My sister is in labor, and I'm in hell.

Gazuza's

We met old, good friends, R. and J. in Gazuza last night. It's a cocktail bar/restaurant in Dupont Circle in Washington D.C. Besides great mojitos, such as the delicious mango one, they have good sushi and an outdoorish terrace. I wrote outdoorish because, it's kind of outdoors, but still indoors, with the view of the street but covered from three sides.
It's an interesting place, in the best sense of the word, despite the slow service and flirty waitress, who, I could swear, at some point addressed M. as "honey." Of course, no one else heard it, or pretended not to. No, I'm not paranoid, nor jealous, at least not this time. It was kind of funny. And ridiculous. She was very flirty and "leany" with J. as well. Maybe is Gazuza's way to beat the competition.
This place did have a good, really yummy "Dragon roll, " with eel and salmon, avocado, I believe and some other stuff.
But if I were you I would go for the mojitos. And only with girlfriends. As an experiment, of course;-)

Palomar

M. and I checked into the hotel Palomar last night. It's a beautiful, modern, new, fancy hotel in Dupont Circle in Washington D.C.
It would be quite pricey this time of year, but M. has some work to do, so we got a good deal that will be payed by his employers.
After we checked in, there was a cocktail hour in the lobby. So we grabbed a glass of good wine, and sat next to an artificial fireplace in a packed lobby until M. had to run to a meeting.
I stayed in my small, but very nice room until I finished my red wine, and then all perky and full of energy decided to go to the gym. The sculpting room, as they call it, is also small but with all the equipment one needs for a nice, short workout. They also have water, and fruit in the morning, towels. There were only two other men there besides me. After my nice 35 minute workout, I decided to take a bath. I usually shower, but being alone in a nice, clean hotel room, made me wanna take a bath. And I did. It felt great, so relaxing. Afterwords, I slipped into one of the leopard robes they give you to use while you stay in one of their rooms. You can also buy it for $120 if you really, really like it. They are nice, one leopard, one zebra, but not $120 nice.
Then M. came back. We ordered Armand's pizza, our favorite D.C. pizza and watched Elizabeth:The Golden Age and the Idol.
A perfect, relaxing evening. I felt like I was on vacation, not back in D.C. where, until recently, I've lived for three years.

D.C. audition

I went to my first audition in Washington D.C. today. I wanted to compare the experience with the ones in New York, plus try to get a paid job. I could stay with my sister for a while, and babysit.
When I came to the Arena Stage Theatre, there was no one waiting in line, despite it being an Equity Principal audition. Deference number one. Then, the auditioning space was huge, humongous compared to the ones in N.Y.C. It looked more like a dancing space than an acting one.
The casting person was a pleasant, younger, dark skin and haired man. He laughed throughout my monologue. I must admit, I was flattered. And a bit distracted. That never happened before. They usually laugh once, or just smile several times, but he was really entertained. Then he asked me if I'm based in D.C. I explained the situation.
So I was in and out in five minutes. That happened before in N.Y.C.? Maybe once.

Hristos Voskrese

Greetings from Virginia! And happy Easter, if you're Orthodox. It's Serbian Easter today, and my family is recovering from a feast in Saint Luke's Orthodox Church in McLean.
First there was a long service. We only came for a brief part of it. God forgive me, but Serbian Orthodox services can be tedious and long. The priests are chanting in Old Church Slavonic for most of the two hours while the believers are standing, Yes, standing, for most of the two hours. It is not easy. But I guess that's not the primary concern of the church. Then there's a Communion, and kissing the icon and the cross held by the main priest, and giving and receiving of the colored hard boiled eggs, then blessing of the food, and finally gluttony.
The food was really amazing, in the tastes and variety. I don't eat meat and I still came out with more than I can eat in my plate. Sauerkraut meal was my favorite. And the home made bread, pogaca, my mother made was out of this world. And not only because she made it. In fact, my family is quite critical of each other.
And the desserts? Everything from a chocolate cake to cannollis. Yummy. Pure decadence.
So chatting with our Orthodox friends, and easting and drinking, we spent our cloudy Sunday afternoon. And then had to take a nap at home. To digest. And woke up on time for dinner.

Long night to D.C.

We decided to go down to D.C. this weekend, to spend Christmas with both our families. But, we still wanted to avoid traffic jams. At any cost. There's nothing worse than being stuck in the car, without being able to do anything about it. So we left at 5 a.m. Which means got up at 3:45.
"It seemed like a good idea at the time," is what M. often says. It was a good idea, for the most part. You see, we avoided big delays, but arrived in D.C. absolutely dead tired. So our arrival was like: "Hi, good to see you, where's the bed?"
We had a nap, which recuperated us, and still had the whole day ahead. Which is a plus. The minus? Except for the first Starbucks being closed, and M. driving at night tired?
Considering, we were lucky.

Sofas and couches, Busboys and Poets, and auditions

I'm writing this from one of "Busboys and poets" in D.C. It's a cafe-restaurant with a charming setting, including the sofas and arms chairs I love. I'm not a big fan of sitting on a chair or at the table. I learned my way through the University by studying on a couch, and I got my Masters by writing on my laptop in Tryst. Really. I tried to avoid writing at the lab as much as possible. Once, I almost got into trouble with a teacher because of it. I never understood why she cared if I write my story in a cafe or in the computer lab. I mean, I'm writing it, either way. Who else would have time to write me an article in a middle of a week day? Other people have better things to do. Besides, she can easily tell the difference.
So, I enjoy the casualness of a cafe like Tryst or Busboys and Poets. Very original name too, don't you think? Imaginative and stylish. Unfortunately, its latte and chai latte are not that good. But the carrot cake is great! One of the best I ever had in a cafe--moist, sweet just enough with vanilla frosting in the middle and on top, and a strawberry on the side--just delicious!
So I'm hanging out on red sofa, with the lingering taste of the cake in my mouth, and my notebook in my lap, browsing through the auditions. I've actually found quite a few I really like. I'm excited about going back to New York and taking a plunge. But a bit nervous about it at the same time. I'm going to need a lot of courage and will, to do something in the acting business. And a lot of luck. And someone who doesn't mind my accent.

Who's the adult here?

I wanted to catch up with another good friend of mine, while I'm here. He was kind enough to invite my visiting mother and me out for breakfast. I passed the invitation along to her. "Great," she said. "What should I wear?"
I thought it was a great idea too. After all, my Mom is only 18 years older than I am. And she spends way too much time at home anyway.
So, we meet this friend of mine. I introduce them. He gets us muffins and lattes, and we sit down to munch and talk. My Mom asks a couple of questions,I interpret back and forth, but then my friend and I start speaking fast English about mutual interests. It was just the next natural thing to do. Before I could even get to half of the things I wanted to ask him about, my mother is done with her muffin and coffee, she's falling into boredom and starting to play with my cell phone. A message arrives while she's peeling this navy blue rubber coat off the back side of my cell, and she is asking me how to reply. Then she's typing, asking questions again, all while I'm in the middle of a conversation with another person. Wait a minute?! Isn't that exactly what she taught me was rude?
I was in an awkward situation myself. I started realizing that this was not such a good idea. I mean, I wanted my mom to meet this friend of mine, and he wanted to meet her, but I forgot that they will not have anything to talk about after the first five minutes.
So she's now calling M. I glance at her occasionally. I ask if there's anything she would like to say. "All I want to know is can he get you a job?"
When do parents start behaving like children, and vice-versa? Is it when you turn 30?
I mean, my Mom was behaving like a bored six-year-old, while I was trying to have an adult conversation. She even admitted that we've switched roles afterwards. I also complained later that she didn't even try to listen to what I believe was a very stimulating conversation, and that all she cares about are the house and having grandkids, and she didn't even try to deny it.
I guess somewhere along the line I deserved this kind of treatment. I'm sure I've stopped and rushed her from many adult things she wanted to do. But I always thought I'm safe until I have my own kids. Well, think again.

One meeting after another coffee

D.C. has been sunny this past week. Sunny but chilly. It has a bit of a different feel since I've lived here. It's more vacationy. But it quickly and easily brings the old issues back as well.
I've had coffee today with a friend. I've enjoyed the chatting and catching up very much! Then went shopping with my family. Had an interesting Yogilates workout this morning too.
I was supposed to meet someone else for a drink-- a journalist I met some time ago--to talk about how he does his work for the Serbian media from here. But that didn't pan out.
I was actually glad it didn't. As much as I like to see my friends, or invest into my career, scheduling one thing after another is a bit stressful. And not vacationy at all. You see, I like to do things on a whim. I like to sleep in if I feel like it, have breakfast in my pajamas, spend some time in my house before I shower, talk, watch a morning show...
If I get up and immediately start getting ready to go somewhere, that reminds me of school, or work. Not vacation. Even if the meeting is a pleasant one.

Road trip

I've been car sick since I was little. I still recall those long trips to Montenegrin coast with my family, during which we regularly had to stop so I can...relieve my nausea.
Things have been better in that department since I've been a bigger girl;-)But I still don't like long car trips and I absolutely load buses.
M. and I are forced to drive down to D.C. because Amtrak won't let our little Nina on board. So I make sure we have plenty of good Cd's,we stop two or three times and I somehow survive the four hour drive. Nina helps a lot. She sleeps in my lap the whole trip. It's adorable. I love it. I'm petting her and enjoying every minute of it!
Starbucks is generally our criteria for a rest stop. If there is one, we stop, get some yummy, more-dessert-than-coffee drink, or my favorite for the road-ice tea lemonade, but Serbian way-without ice! It's actaully good, try it! There's more to drink, and more taste to it!
So we've been in D.C. since Friday afternoon, relaxing with my family. It's nice, really. Another world from New York.
I'm slowly reviewing my German, hoping it will be enough for that role I've mentioned in my previous post.If not, I'll have my consolation prize-Aruba!