Sarah

Jeanette, my roommate, is awesome.  Consider:

1.  She is a novice beekeeper.  She started attending classes recently, got a beekeeping mentor, bought bee hives, and spent the last week or so assembling them and their million wooden pieces in our living room, mostly while we watched episodes of Monk or—a house favorite—Project Runway, which we affectionately and consistently refer to as “Chic and Modern.”  (As in Heidi Klum saying for the 100th time, “That Upper East Side pantsuit inspired by the circus ringmaster is very chic and modern.”)

Her bees come this weekend.  Three pounds of bees—apparently bees are ordered in pounds—which she says is about 3000 bees.  She’s hoping to have honey next year.  (The bees need a year to develop their hive, apparently.)  She’s already named her queens Cleopatra and Jezebel, which sounds to me like she’s asking for trouble.  Jeanette and her brazen bees.

2.  Jeanette organized bike rides through the Pennsylvania Dutch countryside (name: Dutch Bike Dutch) that became so popular she eventually started to charge money.  For charity.  Donations went to an orphanage in El Salvador she later went down to visit.  She brought back pineapple empanadas the girls had made.  They were, I have to admit, very sweet.

3. To that end, on April 24 she’s hosting the first ever Tour de Cupcake—a 23 mile (ish?) bike route that takes its riders around five of DC area’s finest cupcakeries.  Meet at Gravelly Point between 1 and 2 pm.  [Note: This is a correction from earlier.]  Donations are encouraged to one of the DC area’s domestic violence prevention non-profits because, you guessed it, Jeanette volunteers at one of them.  And it’s Sexual Assault Awareness Month.  (“April is Sexual Assault Month,” she said to me and the roommates a couple of weeks ago.  “Don’t you mean Sexual Assault Awareness Month?” Stephanie said.  Note: Stephanie is a communications professional.)

4.  Jeanette is the one who purchased our karaoke machine.  5.  Jeanette was the one who requested her friend do an Elvis impersonation at her 30th birthday party.  6.  She was also the one who asked another friend to make a giant (cardboard box) cake for Elvis to jump out of.  7.  Then Jeanette and Elvis karaoked together.  It was legendary.

8-11.  Jeanette bikes to work at the Capitol every day.  She makes stir fry with tofu or tostadas with melted cheddar cheese or homemade hummus (chickpea or white bean) every day.  She introduced the homemade sushi roll to the house, and she inspired me to learn how to make my own tempura batter.   (So super easy.)

12.  Almost all of the paintings in our house were done by Jeanette (three flowers, a red Starry Night, and a beautiful South American produce painting, see below, which she painted under the tutelage of a South American street painter, who stopped hawking his wares on the street and started teaching foreigners once Jeanette said, “Hey–will you teach me how to do that?  I’ll pay you,” which he quickly realized was a lucrative business move; he contacted Jeanette after she came back to the States and said, “Now I have twelve students!”).  We used to have a painting depicting the evolution of the monocellular organism in a hot-pink-and-lime-green color palette in the downstairs bathroom, which was also painted by Jeanette.  (The painting, not the bathroom.)

13+.  I feel safer when she’s home.  I feel funnier when she’s home.  I feel like we make funner and saner decisions when she’s home.

Tonight Jeanette is playing pick-up field hockey on the National Mall.  “Do you want to come?” she asked me last night.  “I’m sure we can find you someone’s stick to borrow.”  I always want to say yes to Jeanette.

All of this is to say, Jeanette is the prototypical (although type-busting) example of a rockstar roommate.  And I won’t live with “Jeanette” forever.  (Please bless.)  At some future date, I’ll move, she’ll move.  I’ll get married, she’ll get married.  These are things I want.  For both of us.

But how—how—how am I going to have as much fun without her?

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