Weekend Recap: Three Men and a Lentil Stew

While the freelance work is steady, it's just not streaming in fast enough so a girl's got to be on a budget, which means eating and drinking at home way more often. I did a version of both Adventures in Shaw's and Fab Frugal Food's lentil soup - mine with spinach, sweet potato, and leftover beef ragu. With a big helping of brown rice, I could eat this for days. This was coupled with Barefoot Pinot Noir, on sale at my corner grocery store for $4.99. Not bad at all.

The owner of my favorite neighborhood restaurant that I used to do marketing for is married and apparently dating, seeing as though I got a late night booty call on Friday. Let's see, how does that work? You get married and then call any and every woman you know to get you off when the wifey is out of town. David Letterman, Steve Phillips…yawn.

I decided my Halloween costume would be the truth: a never married, childless woman, over 35, with a PhD, thinking she can make it on her own outside of the system, in DC. I will more than likely scare the Census takers away. But then, maybe not. This is DC.

Mr. "Cell Phone Penis Pic" and I parted ways on Saturday. Who gets into a long-term relationship with a guy who sends this kind of picture after just three days of knowing a woman? I don't care how cute, nerdy, and sweet you are, I just can't reconcile that with my psyche. More to come in my next post on this one.

Sunday night was drinks with Mr. Cheftastic, Chef-extraordinaire, Chef-egomaniac….whatever. I met this guy two years ago and have literally only hung out with him a handful of times because he is just so busy, busy, busy and life just can't exist without him at that damn restaurant. He was spouting the same BS but seemed a little calmer these days. We met at the bar in the Henley Park Hotel where I've been meaning to go since I moved to Shaw. It was convenient for us both but I've always had an obsession with hotel bars, especially quaint little historic ones like the Henley. This seemed like the kind of cozy spot where you would sip single malt scotch, and so we did. I'm not at all familiar with scotch so, sixteen-year-old Glevlivet was a new experience for me. Once again, I reminded him that my life will never magically transform to meet his every need but this was a nice ending to the weekend.

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