Yesterday, I ventured from my apartment and walked around. Happily, I discovered that Target and a few nearby stores were open. As I walked around Target, I was curious what people rush out to buy after being stuck in their homes and apartments for 24+ hours.

You’ve been shut in your house for a day or two and are suddenly liberated to Target. What do you buy?

$5 DVDs were popular. No love for Free Willy or Blue’s Clues.

Toilet paper is also a must-buy. This makes me wonder, how much toilet paper can you go through in 24 hours? Most people keep spare rolls at home. Do people just have a fear of waking up and discovering that they have no toilet paper?

Paper towels are also in demand.

Kitty litter was starting to get picked over. Understandable.

Milk was gone, especially the half gallons. The DC Metro area does have the highest percentage of single households in the country.

Frozen pizza. Doesn’t work out really well if you don’t have power.

Potato chips. This surprised me. The chip aisle was emptied. My mom pointed out that it was probably due to a Snowmageddon/Superbowl combination.

Snack Cakes. The junk food factor was surprising. If you have to hibernate, do it with doughnuts.

Wine. There was a surprising amount of wine left on the shelves. I would have thought this aisle would be cleaned out too. Perhaps people skipped the wine and went straight for the hard liquor.

$5 scarves. It’s cold outside. A $5 scarf is a good deal!

Looks like Coke is the preferred beverage in this area.

I meant to post this yesterday, but two hours of digging my car out of the snow wiped me out. I almost fell asleep in front of my computer while watching the Superbowl last night. (Really!)

Have you ever wondered what it’s like to survive a blizzard for the record books?

Neither have I since I lived through the Chattanooga Blizzard of 1993 when I was in the 5th grade. Apparently, I’m lucky enough to survive two blizzards in one winter. The fact that I’m not traveling and stuck on I-81 makes this blizzard much more pleasant. By comparison, watching a blizzard from the inside of toasty apartment is not bad.

In my opinion, braving the stores on Thursday night was the opening skirmish in the Snowpocalypse II. It took me two hours to drive from my new job (yes, I got a new job!) in Herndon to Alexandria, where I live. I ended up at Wal-Mart since no one shops there in this area. Most people in this region are extremely anti-Walmart and would rather starve than buy from an evil corporate giant (although Whole Foods was started by a libertarian. Go figure.) I managed to get one of the last three gallons of skim milk in the store and was only in line for about 15 minutes. (Tennessee readers, Walmarts up here are the old types. Super stores aren’t allowed in the area, so they have small grocery sections.)

I also decided to snag a camping stove and propane. No one, I repeat, no one was buying those. With 20-30″ of snow, tree branches are going to fall on power lines, and electricity is going to go out. The camping section would have been wiped out in Tennessee. Sorry local readers, but metro dwellers are not very resourceful. I also loaded up on granola bars,* bottled water and batteries.

Yesterday, I worked from home, so I got to stay of the road. The snow started falling around 10 a.m., but didn’t start accumulating until the evening. By 7:45 p.m., several inches were on the ground, and I decided to start taking photos to document this experience. (Photos are below.)

This morning, I went for a walk around the neighborhood. The two main roads were plowed, but side streets are covered in at least 18″ of snow. There were a lot of people walking around and exploring the winter wonderland.

The local coffee shop, 7/11 and a Mexican restaurant were open. Surprisingly, there was a vendor at the Farmer’s Market. Target is closed, but the Farmer’s Market is open. That explains so much about Beltway life. I also discovered that the nearby Shopper’s and Shell station were open.

The snow is supposed to end some time tonight. The interesting question will be if the roads and Metro are working by Monday. Even if streets are plowed, the snow has to go somewhere. Cars parked on the street are blocked in by huge drifts. Northern Virginia is also completely cut off from the Metro because above-ground stations are closed. The real adventure starts Monday.

Update: At 4:30 p.m. on Saturday, the snow is up to 24″ or to my knees when I stand in it. Snow is also falling off the roof of my building and crashing in front of my living room window. It sounds incredibly scary when it happens. Snow has also covered up the vent to my window unit heater. Not sure if it’s safe to turn on the heat so I’m layering blankets over my snuggie.

*I grew up camping with my family. On one primitive camping trip to Cumberland Island, Georgia, raccoons got to our food supply with two days left on the trip. Since the island can only be accessed by a ferry, and there aren’t any stores, we survived on granola bars, gummy bears and marshmallows until it was time to leave. Most situations can be survived with the help of granola bars.

When is the fashion industry going to tire of Michelle Obama? I’m sick, sick, sick of seeing articles about her amazing sense of style.

When I read the fashion piece in the New York Times by Cathy Horyn comparing Sarah Palin and Michelle Obama, I was happy to see someone try to print something questioning M. Obama’s choices, even if she gets some facts wrong about Palin. She writes:

It’s hard to see now why so many columnists got their tights in a twist over Ms. Palin’s spending $75,000 of perfectly good Republican money at Neiman Marcus during the 2008 Republican convention. Have you seen Neiman’s numbers lately? After 18 straight months of declines, it wouldn’t be surprising to find a little shrine erected in Ms. Palin’s honor.

In November, the NYT, the same publication where Ms. Horyn writes, interviewed Lisa A. Kline, the stylist behind Wardrobegate. The article set the record straight that Palin had nothing to do with all of the money spent at Neiman Marcus. Palin even spends a considerable amount of time writing her side of the story in Going Rogue. She remembers looking through the clothes and being shocked to find an $80 pair of pantyhose and wondering why they were better than $5 drugstore brands. She also writes at length about wearing her own clothes, borrowing a pair of black Theory pants from a staffer and supporting Alaska designer, Paige Adams-Geller by wearing Paige jeans on the campaign. When she traveled to meet Senator McCain about the possibility of becoming his running mate, she packs two Ann Taylor suits. The last time I checked, neither Theory nor Ann Taylor are expensive brands. They make up many professional wardrobes of average American women.

I do agree with Ms. Horyn in the lack of scandal in how Mrs. Obama favors expensive labels, and by expensive, I mean expensive.

Mrs. Obama, though, has successfully separated the personal from the political. Indeed, the only thing more surprising than the storm over Ms. Palin’s “Pretty Woman” makeover is that almost no one has raised an eyebrow over Mrs. Obama’s wearing of non-American labels, which include Nina Ricci and Junya Watanabe, and some of the most expensive at that.

In the 1960s, Jackie Kennedy Onassis, a true fashion icon, gave up French designers because the public wanted her to wear American.  In the 1980s, Nancy Reagan was vilified for wearing expensive labels despite close connections to designers and a personal fortune to buy them. Barbara and Laura Bush always wore high-end, respectable labels but they  weren’t fashion industry darlings like the current FLOTUS. They did pull out the designer frocks when it counted, and Oscar De la Renta famously dressed Laura Bush.

While we’re in a recession similar the early 80s, Michelle Obama is praised for wearing expensive designers that most Americans can’t dream of wearing or even walking in their stores.*  Even her “cheap” J. Crew outfits cost over $500 each. When was the last time the average American woman spent $500 on a singal outfit? Hardly a peep is made when Mrs. O wears $500 sneakers to serve soup, orders custom-made, thigh-high boots from an elite French shoemaker or carries a $900 clutch. Because Mrs. Obama is a progressive and mirrors the politics of the fashion elite, they gush over her. As Horyn notes:

Mrs. Obama’s choices are all insider, apart from her shorts and those strategically worn plebe numbers from Target and Talbots. If she got any more insider, she’d be backing down a runway. She wears Rodarte, Jason Wu, Sophie Theallet, Narciso Rodriguez, Thakoon, Isabel Toledo and Rick Owens, labels that in terms of creativity and price are at the highest level of fashion. Go much higher and you hit couture.

That’s nearly more elite than the labels Nancy Reagan wore and she was labeled a cold-hearted fashionista. The only problem is that the Reagans clearly had the money to spend on those clothes. What about the Obamas? Neither of them have the income to afford that level of dressing. That level of dressing requires at least a $150,000 investment each year. To pull that off, you need Cindy McCain levels of income. The President only makes $400,000 plus an expense account of $50,000. Their daughters’ elite school, Sidwell Friends starts at $30,000 per kid. (It’s nice. I frequently used to walk by it when I lived in Upper Georgetown.)

What’s more likely is Mrs. O shares the same elitist, progressive politics of the design world and isn’t afraid to drop names when they gift her items. And when she drops the names of international designers, they make those snobby Europeans feel even more warm and mushy on the inside since the Obamas are “restoring” the profile of America. It’s like having a permanent red carpet on CNN. I was always led to believe that it’s in bad taste to spend copious amounts of money in a recession, even when you can afford it. But then, the Obamas are always the exception to every rule.

Interestingly, the Huffington Post attacks Horyn for her remarks about Mrs. O:

We think Sarah Palin is incredibly attractive, and looks great in a tailored and crisp style that suits her look. Michelle Obama experiments with looks, a seeming reflection of the many moods, roles, and self-images of women today. More power to them both, as they reflect, via their sartorial choices, on the multi-tasking challenge of all modern women.

Odd, “experimenting” with your style is not what’s typically praised in the fashion world. Fashion icons–Jackie Kennedy, Audrey Hephburn, Grace Kelly and modern celebrities like Renee Zellweger, Sarah Jessica Parker and Sienna Miller are known for distinct fashion tastes. In order to be a fashion icon, you’re supposed to have a recognizable style, not experiment. If Michelle Obama is still experiementing with her “style” well into her forties, she’s not an icon. And if her “style” is the frumpy cardigan and belt look, I can see why the labels are falling over themselves to save their precious liberal FLOTUS from worst dressed lists.

If Mrs. O had the politics of say, Sarah Palin, would her fashion choices be lauded?

*During my senior trip to Los Angeles, we went shopping on Rodeo Drive and quickly discovered no one could afford to buy anything. In Gucci, a salesperson closely follow us before escorting us out. The only store that showed any kind of customer service was Ralph Lauren, a plebian American designer. When I splurge on expensive clothes find them on sale at Marshall’s, I usually end up buying one of Ralph Lauren’s lines or Michael Kors, another American designer.

H/T: Don Surber

Friday morning, I woke up to panicked phone calls from my parents urging me to drive back to Tennessee immediately. They were afraid that I’d get stuck in Northern Virginia due to the approaching blizzard. What they neglected to mention was that in order to avoid the storm in Alexandria, I’d have to drive through the storm in central Virginia. My internet was down,  so I couldn’t check the weather. In hindsight, I should have bothered to turn on TV and not trust my parents for their advice.

I quickly packed, cleaned my apartment and was on the road by noon. I tried thinking ahead about the possibility of driving through snow and loaded my car with extra food, water bottles and blankets. I didn’t have any sand or kitty litter, so I put a heavy box of books and suitcases in my trunk to weigh it down. I always have extra books around.

As a Southerner, I have a deep fear of snow. We don’t get much white stuff in Chattanooga,  so I have zero experience driving in it.  After living through the freak blizzard of March 1993, I view snow with an awed fear. That storm dumped about 16″ of snow in our yard and shut down the city for more than a week. We lived without electricity the entire time and eventually ran out of water. I don’t know how we would have survived without our camp stove and  heater.  Snow is pretty and fun to play in for a few hours, but then it should go away.

As I drove south, the counties around DC were proactive and dumping salt on the road. As soon as I got on I-81, all preparation efforts stopped. Not a salt truck or snow plow was seen. Around Lexington, it started snowing heavily and quickly went from annoying to dangerous. By the time I got to Roanoke, traffic was at a standstill due to a wreck. My mom called the local news stations and monitored VDOT’s web site to give me updates.

Snow conditions around Roanoke

Eventually, I got off the interstate at Salem to tank up my car. I noticed that a state highway was clear and seemed to parallel the interstate. I got directions and decided to bypass the wreck and hop back on the interstate 10 miles further south. By this point, there was a couple of inches of snow and ice on the ground and quickly growing dark. The countryside was beautiful, and I felt like I was driving through a Christmas card with decorated farmhouses and snow-covered barns.

I got back on I-81 around Christiansburg and thought the worst was behind me. Then it suddenly went from drivable to awful. Big fluffy flakes were pouring down, and I could barely see the truck I was following. My wipers were so covered in ice that they just smeared water on my windshield.  My car was sliding all over the road, and I was barely driving over 10 mph. I pulled off the interstate to clean my windshield and wipers. I didn’t realize how bad it was until I stepped out of my car and sank into a half foot of snow. A nice man at the gas station volunteered to spray my windshield with de-icer, and I added it to my mental list of a much-needed winter driving kit.

Once again, I got back on the interstate.  It was now around 7 p.m. and pitch black. I got a few miles further and hit a wall of stalled traffic at the first Wytheville exit. On the radio, a helpful weatherman said that the brunt of the storm was directly over us. Frequent panicked calls to my parents informed me that I-81 was essentially shut down due to a wrecked tractor trailer five miles ahead of me.

Hours started ticking by. Every 30 minutes, I’d turn on my car to warm it up. I would  also get out and clean my windshield and knock ice off my tires with a $1.99 flip flop from Wal-Mart. Normally, I pride myself on being prepared for every situation, but I somehow lost my ice scraper since last winter. I also discovered that Honda Accords are insulated rather well and praised God that my car battery had been replaced two weeks earlier. I was also thankful that I grabbed my ancient, down-filled parka  and extra blankets.

Around 9 p.m., my dad insisted on getting a hotel room for me. I still hoped that the wreck clear, and I could get through the next 100 miles of snow that night.  Dad got one of the last few hotel rooms in the county at a Super 8 and convinced me to give up on getting home that night.  Now, the challenge was getting to the hotel, which was only four miles away.

My car was stopped about 500 feet from an exit ramp. I could see a truck stop, and people around me were walking up the ramp to get food and use the restroom. I felt sorry for all the people walking by with small children. I was miserable and freaked out by myself. I can’t imagine getting through this nightmare situation with a baby or small child.

Stuck on I-81 at midnight

The hours ticked by. I tried to tweet, but only  every 4th or 5th text message went through. In hindsight, it was an interesting experience. However, sitting there was terrifying. I was alone, stuck on the interstate in the middle of a blizzard and watching the snow accumulate around my car.

Around 10:30 p.m., mom called and said she had reached the state police. The wreck should be cleared in the next 20 minutes and then state troopers would go car to car and help everyone get out. According to the VDOT web site, I-81 was covered in wrecks. Getting home that night would be impossible. I got the address of the hotel and set up directions in my GPS to get there.

Twenty minutes ticked by and nothing. Thirty minutes. An hour. It was looking bad, and admittedly I freaked out. It looked like I would be spending the night on the interstate in my car. I pulled out my pillow and a blanket and tried to settle in. Around 12:30, a snow plow came through and cleared the exit ramp. The truck ahead of me got over and drove up the ramp. I decided to follow. Getting stuck at a truck stop had to be better than being stuck on the interstate.

The parking lot of the truck stop  had at least one foot of snow. I was shocked that my car was able to plow through it. I topped off my car and found out that a frontage road cut between I-81 and I-77 and would get me close to the hotel. It had been scraped and was drivable.

I took the road with some apprehension of driving away from the safety of other cars and followed the directions on my GPS. I got closer and closer, but couldn’t find the hotel. I called home to clarify directions, and my dad told me to get back on the interstate. The hotel had mentioned that Garmin directions were always wrong. I got on I-77 and noticed how abandoned it looked. Cars were grouped by exits, and the left lane was completely empty. It looked like a scene from a disaster movie. I found the exit that I needed, but two lanes of stopped traffic blocked it.

It was late, and I was now driving in circles through a blizzard. I was exhausted, scared and upset. Somehow, I ended up at an exit where I re-fuel my car on drives back to DC. I recognized a gas station and stopped for a cup of coffee and directions. The station was packed. It looked like people were hunkering down there for the night. I got directions to drive through downtown Wytheville and reach the hotel.

Once again, I drove through a snow-covered picturesque town. It looked like the set of a Christmas movie with a 1950s style town center, a giant Christmas tree and lots of lights. Had it not been a nightmare scenario, I would have enjoyed the sight.

My GPS was an annoying loop of “recalculating” in polite British tones that made me want to throw through my windshield. It kept directing me to turn down roads that hadn’t been plowed. My dad called again and pulled up Google maps to find my location. From there, he directed me the last two miles to the hotel.

At 1:30 a.m., I pulled up to the Super 8 and walked through a snow drift to check in. Ahead of me, two drunk rednecks were trying to convince the clerk that they had been locked out of their rooms.

“Great.” I thought. “I’m close enough to Tennessee to encounter rednecks, but not close enough to get home tonight.”

I finally got into my room, called home and texted a few people to tell them I was safe and collapsed. This had been one of the worst nights weeks of my life.

The next morning, I woke up to news that DC was being pummeled by the blizzard.

“Good,” I couldn’t help thinking. “Now my friends are getting a taste of what I went through last night.”

By 8:30 a.m., the snow storm already had a Facebook page and a Twitter tag. I wanted to smack everyone complaining about #snOMG. I had been through hell and wanted nothing more than to get to Chattanooga.

My car covered n snow

The hotel had a complimentary breakfast, and I asked other travelers about road conditions. I-81 seemed to be clear, but I-77 was still a mess. I watched small sedans like mine make it out of the parking lot. The hotel provided brooms and snow shovels to help people clear out their cars. I proceeded to clean off my car with a broom and my trusty flip flop.

By the time I finished digging out my car, the snow was mostly slush in the parking lot. I stopped to take pictures, and a man asked me, “Do you really want to remember this?” I laughed and replied, “Some day.”

I got on the road by 11 a.m. and found the roads to be clear. The snow plows that I had looked for earlier were out in force. As I drove the remaining 250 miles, I watched as the snow conditions decreased from blizzard to ice and eventually rain outside of Knoxville. I was so happy to see green trees. I finally got home around 4 p.m. I’ve never been so happy to see my family and get home.

Yesterday seemed like it was going well. I got to go to the Code Red Rally and then came back and did an interview with Michael Berry’s show on KTRH in Houston, which was really fun.

Then I found out I lost my job.

Yep. I’m unemployed. Immediately. One week before Christmas. I’m officially a cliche’. One of those people that you  hear about through the grapevine and pray that you never become. Or as my mother suggested last night this sounds like the plot to a bad Lifetime movie.

The news of it is still sinking in. Thankfully, I have two weeks of severance, which will help tremendously. I’m also jumping into the job search. This morning, I was at my computer by 8 a.m. updating my resume and emailing contacts.

Unemployment is a strange concept. I’ve never not had a job. The summer after I turned 16, I got a job and never stopped working. Even before 16, I always had regular babysitting jobs. Most of the time I’ve juggled multiple jobs.  I have no idea what it’s like to be unemployed.

I’ve read a number of blogs about unemployment, and my friend Rachel maintains an amazing blog about being laid off in San Francisco. DC is a better job market than most, and I have job skills in an emerging field.

On one hand, it’s nice to have an extended Christmas break. On the other hand, no one is working. My chances of quickly finding a job are decreased.

In some chick lit book that I read, the main character tries to find three positives to a challenging situation. 1) I have time to blog more. 2) One of my goals before I turn 30 is to write a book. I don’t care if it ever gets published. I’ve always wanted to just accomplish the feat of writing one. A while back I got started on it, and now I can devote more energy to it. 3) Long Christmas vacation. I can’t afford to do anything, but I do get time off.

Since the moment I heard the news, I felt God telling me that this would be alright and losing my job is somehow a part of His plan. That reassurance is sustaining me. I really don’t know how people without faith make it. Since I was saved as a little kid, I don’t remember life before the Holy Spirit. I can’t imagine life without the promise of Romans 8:28-29.

Anyone out there looking for a blogger or social media person? Anyone looking for a writer?

One thing I appreciate about National Community Church is how the leadership pushes us as Believers. Pastor Mark and the staff don’t use gimmicks or popular books like “40 Days of Purpose” or whatever trend is current in churches. Rather, they find new and creative ways we can grow in our personal lives and small groups.

Last year, NCC started A18, which is based on Acts 1:8, to put a special focus on missions around the world, in the US and in the District. (DC alone has so much need.)

Acts 1:8 says, “But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes on you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.”

I was back in Chattanooga serving at Embrace Church when they came out with the first catalogue, but I was at church last week for the new one.

According to Pastor Mark’s blog, Evotional:

We handed out our annual A18 Christmas Catalogue this past weekend. Amazing magazine that is designed to tell mission stories and give people an opportunity to invest in missions as a Christmas gift. We’ll take ten trips to ten countries this next year. And the catalog focuses on four of those countries: Nicaragua, Ethiopia, Bolivia, and Thailand.We handed out our annual A18 Christmas Catalogue this past weekend. Amazing magazine that is designed to tell mission stories and give people an opportunity to invest in missions as a Christmas gift. We’ll take ten trips to ten countries this next year. And the catalog focuses on four of those countries: Nicaragua, Ethiopia, Bolivia, and Thailand.

Having grown up in the church, it’s not unusual to give to missions. We always had mission conferences once a year and frequently heard missionaries speak in chapel at school. However, you wrote a check or put pennies in the offering plate to go to “missions.” Sometimes, you’d get a photo of the missionary family to hang on your refrigerator, but it was difficult to grasp where your money was exactly going.

The A18 Christmas Catalogue gives you options of how you can give your money. You can provide a month-scholarship for a hearing-impaired student in Nicaragua for $34, or a gift of $20 provides one person with clean drinking water for life in Ethiopia.

Two weeks ago, I wrote about faith and Bill Colrus, another Chattanooga blogger,  encouraged me to write more frequently on it. I’m writing this A18 post not only to show how cool giving to missions can be but to hold myself accountable. Recently, I’ve felt led to make an extra gift each pay check to help one of the programs in this catalogue.

Now I can give more some pay checks, and others hit when every single bill is due and my car needs repairs. (We all have those months!) However, I can always spare $10. I’m hoping that by leaving the catalogue in a prominent location (my coffee table) and writing this post, I’ll be accountable to this.

Of course, you can always buy coffee at Ebenezer’s on the Hill. Since all the profits go directly to missions, I have difficulty turning down that $5 cup of coffee. Unlike Starbucks, it’s hard to be frugal and save money when Ebz delicious coffee helps people.

It’s not too unusual to see famous people in DC. A few months ago, I walked by Stephen Baldwin in the lobby of the Omni Shoreham. If he hadn’t been on his cell phone, I would have been happy to tell him that he’s aged much better than big brother Alec, and I feel for him at family gatherings.

DC still gets excited by big names. Whenever a celebrity testifies on the Hill or a movie is filmed here, Washingtonians lose some of their aloofness and get star-struck. My mom was visiting when National Treasure 2 was filming around the corner from my old job. We walked over,  hoping to catch a glimpse of Nicolas Cage. When he appeared on set, all the women gathered around, most jaded and dressed in expensive suits, and gasped. Then a production person laughed and told us that it was Cage’s double.

A very liberal friend also got excited when Richard Ashcroft was in town and attended my church, which was ironic and funny. I’ve met some famous liberal politicians, and once saw Ted Kennedy up close, but I never got excited. Actually, I was disgusted at being in the same room with someone who had wreaked so much damage on this country.

This is to say that DC welcomes celebrities, politicos and even some pseudo-celebrities. However, I’m dismayed to see that Jon Gosselin, is now dating a girl in the area.

This just doesn’t make sense.

1. People in DC are supposed to be a lot smarter than in other places. After all, 25% of Washingtonians have a graduate degree. How can you be this dumb?

2. Why on earth would you knowingly date someone who has been on the cover of every tabloid for a year?

3. How could anyone desire to date the king of all douchebags?

4. What could anyone find attractive or desirable about Jon Gosselin? Depending on his upcoming lawsuit, he might not even have money much longer.

5. He actually brags about being unemployed.

6. He wears Ed Hardy.  All. The. Time.

7. He has a terrible case of Peter Pan syndrome.

8. He has eight kids. All adorable but still — eight kids.

9. Have I mentioned that he’s a douchebag?

10.  Fake red hair just looks bad. It’s a mistake that many of us make, including me. However, that’s a lot of bad red hair.