My good friend, roommate, and I decided to check out Commonwealth, the new restaurant in Columbia Heights, last night, and though many of the menu items were unavailable, we ended up having a pretty good meal. Our server was very helpful and knowledgeable about the menu, though it was obvious the kinks with the service haven’t been ironed out yet. Thank goodness we weren’t in a hurry, and all three of us are pretty patient. The restaurant was out of most of the beers I wanted to try, so I settled on a monkey ale, and it was pretty good. The highlight of my meal, though (besides the company), was the roasted trout with stuffed bread and butter. I was warned that the fish would come with its head and tail still on, but I was up for something new. Boy, was it delicious (and expensive)!

I know Ruth said she’d probably wait until sweater season to sample the entrees, but I’ll be headed back to try a new dish.

Yesterday afternoon, I was called upstairs to the production room to try a couple cupcakes an account executive had picked up from Baked & Wired, a bakery near the Shops at Georgetown Park. I guess someone up there had read my previous post about Cakelove and knew I’d be interested in a tasty treat. For sample were the carrot cake cupcake, a chocolate cupcake with mocha frosting, and, er, one other variety I can’t remember at the moment.

By the time I got up there, most of each cake had been eaten, but it looked to me (judging by the wrappers) that Baked & Wired’s goods are slightly larger than Cakelove’s concoctions. And in this case, bigger is definitely better. The cakes were that perfect consistency (not too dense, not too crumbly), and the frosting was delicious. The type of frosting you’d eat out of the container while watching a rerun of your favorite show. If that’s what you’re into.

I didn’t have a whole cupcake, so I think it will be necessary to try a (much) bigger sample before giving this shop a true recommendation. I mean, it’s only fair. And wow, look at that: Baked & Wired is open till 7 p.m. on weekdays…just enough time after work to cruise down there on my bike. Hmm.

Yesterday, in my quest to meet new people and feel more at home in this new city, I decided to attend a meetup at the Gallery Place cinema. Our group watched the new Will Ferrell/John C. Reilly movie Step Brothers (which, if I were a movie critic, I’d describe as “a rip-roaring good time,” but I’m not, so I’ll just say it was hil.ari.ous and the duo’s best work yet).

On our way out after the movie (at about 6:45 p.m.), the lobby area was packed, and we soon realized the exits were blocked by uniformed officers and the walkway out to the road (by Clive’s) was deserted, though I could see police officers across the street walking around. The officer I spoke with said he had no idea what was going on and pointed me to another exit in a different direction.

A guy on the street told me that Coldplay was headlining at the Verizon Center (in the same complex as the cinema), but I overheard a security guard telling people there was a bomb threat and someone else said there was a “mysterious package” somewhere.

Seventh Street Northwest was closed for at least an hour, though I can’t seem to find any report of what happened. Are these types of things just a usual occurrence here? Does anyone know what happened? This is the second time in a week and a half that I’ve been somewhere in the city and an area was closed off due to a “suspicious bag” or a “mysterious package.”

Watch out, drug-sniffing dogs: You’ve got some competition.

According to an MSNBC.com article posted this morning, a turtle fitted with a GPS device meandered into a remote area of Rock Creek Park and led a National Park Service employee to a marijuana-growing operation.

A National Park Service employee was tracking a turtle with the gadget for research when the turtle wandered into a small marijuana field in a remote part of Rock Creek Park.

U.S. Park police were called and surveillance was set up to monitor the area. Police discovered a man taking care of about 10 marijuana plants in the field.

U.S. Park police and Montgomery County police arrested Isiah Johnson, 19, in Chevy Chase Wednesday.

Nice work, little turtle. I bet Mr. Johnson wasn’t expecting to be caught like that.

My hair has gotten to that point, folks. It’s time for a haircut.

I don’t know if this happens to anyone else, but there’s a point—an actual length—in the afterlife of my hair follicles when all hell breaks loose. In January 2007, I was so sick of it (and it was long enough, after the split ends) to donate the majority of my locks to Locks of Love. Yes, I did revert to looking like my sixth-grade self, but it was worth it just to get rid of the horrible tangles that kept me in the shower for 30-45 minutes shampooing, conditioning, pulling strands apart, and repeating.

I’m not willing to get a cut as drastic as before (I’ve realized that chin-length bobs make me look a little chunky above the neck). I just need to take a couple inches off.

Which brings me to my main problem: decision-making. Sometimes (and when it really counts), I’m able to go confidently in the direction of my dreams…ahem. But for everyday decisions, like, say, where to eat for lunch in a new area or a new place to get my hair cut, it takes me awhile.

I asked colleagues the other day and scoured Yelp! looking for a quality salon with moderate prices and near Adams Morgan. I did a new search online this morning (with, of course, the same results and reviews) and chose a couple of places to call. I thought today would be the day. Thursdays can be relatively slower in terms of content, so I figured I could leave for a long lunch, get my hair cut, and come back beautiful and ready for a date tonight. And then I came to work and promptly forgot about it until I ran my fingers through my hair.

I was thinking Trim (close but expensive), Blondie’s (a bit of a walk but moderate), Urban Escape (I could just tumble down the hill to get there), or Bang (more of a trek but moderate prices, I think). Any (helpful) suggestions?

Today has been declared “Code Orange,” weather-wise. I’m still not clear why it’s not called something more creative, like “Miserable Maroon Monday,” “Red Hot Heat,” or even just “Code Red,” (what is orange supposed to imply? acid?), but that’s another thing entirely.

MSNBC.com’s local news page reported:

The National Weather Service forecasts the temperature in the Washington region to reach 96 degrees with the heat index expected to approach 100 degrees.

Monday has been named a code orange air quality day, which means high temperatures combined with high humidity may create a dangerous situation for children, the elderly and those who suffer from chronic heart or respiratory conditions.

Unfortunately, I didn’t read the article until I got to work today, meaning that I suffered the 15-minute walk to Adams Morgan in a pair of “just out of the dryer (and a bit too tight)” jeans. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m hoping they’ll stretch to the comfortable fit I’m used to by the end of the day, but since things tend to expand when they get hot, I might need the Jaws of Life to get these suckers off tonight.

Msnbc.com posted an article today about New York City’s new legislation requiring city restaurants to post calorie counts in the same size and font as the food price.

New Yorkers have been in the throes of sticker shock since this spring when the Big Apple became the first city in the country to implement a law forcing chain restaurants to post the calorie count of each food in the same size and font as the price. … Many New Yorkers are finding that even the foods they thought were lower calorie really aren’t. … Outside the Forest Hills’ Dunkin’ Donuts, Juan Restrepo, the 45-year-old owner of a construction company, said he was quitting corn muffins — 510 calories! — this time for good. … Vicki Freedman, who lives in Manhattan, watches her weight and always tries to choose a light option when eating out. But the 26 year old just discovered that the Friday’s pecan-crusted chicken salad, served with mandarin oranges, dried cranberries and celery, has 1,360 calories.

I think this law is brilliant. Those three- or even four-digit numbers displayed next to innocent-looking cookies, frappaccinos, and even salads will surely bring accountability back to eating. Those who dread stepping on the scale may be most daunted by the new law, but I think it’ll do us good. This law may be a catalyst for restaurants to choose healthier ways of preparing dishes.

It might make some people upset to have their meals “ruined,” but that frustration would be short-lived. Eating healthy and giving up the fettuccine alfredo can be a drag, but it’s like exercise: you don’t want to do it, but you feel pretty good later for doing it.

The article mentions similar laws being implemented in Seattle, Santa Clara and San Francisco by the end of the year, which is absolutely fantastic. I think DC should follow suit. Plus, if we already had a law like that here, I probably wouldn’t have eaten (and now feel so sick from gorging on) a burger and milkshake for lunch.

I’m probably the last person to see this, but I still think it’s worth posting. This video provides enough reason for people to use better bike locks (and use them correctly).

It boggles my mind how all you District dwellers don’t appreciate the scenery around here. Yes, I’m a recent transplant to D.C., and to the East Coast in general, so my sense of newness really helps the amazement of seeing the beautiful architecture and famous buildings and monuments. But let me tell you, on my drives up and down Interstate 5 in Seattle, not once in two years did I glance at the skyline, see the Space Needle, and not feel amazed. Every single time I saw that World’s Fair monstrosity hovering over the Seattle Center area, I felt a tinge of excitement. “I LIVE in Seattle,” I’d say to myself with a bit of a smile. “I live in Seattle!”

Almost every day since I moved, I’ve caught myself in a moment of equal amazement. I watched the fireworks from the Iwo Jima memorial and said to a date, “I live in D.C. I’m watching fireworks in the capital!” While on another date Thursday night, a guy and I took a stroll by the White House, the Mall and over to the Jefferson Memorial. I felt the little-kid giddiness start to swell up in my chest, and I asked him if we could pause to look at everything and take it in. He humored me, and I think I perplexed him with the huge grin plastered on my face. I went to a Nationals game Saturday night and saw the Washington Monument in the distance. “Holy crap!” I said to my group. “We’re in Washington, D.C.! Do you see that?!”

Each person I was with had the same sort of reaction: “Huh. I guess I’m jaded.” To which I’d say something like, “Really, how cool is this?! We’re in Washington, D.C.!”

Don’t give me that “I guess I’m jaded” nonsense. That, to me, translates as “Gee, I’m so caught up in my everyday life that I can’t take 10 seconds out of my busy day to appreciate my surroundings.” I’m sure you get that rush when you travel, right? It’s not that hard to feel the same way about a familiar place—and it might lower your blood pressure a bit, too.

Thankfully, on a bike ride to Virginia (Virginia!) yesterday, my housemate picked up on my excitement and pedaled with it (though he’s lived in the DMV area his entire life).

Try to enjoy here while you’re here, because there’s no here anywhere else.

During your first week at a new job, it’s expected to make mistakes while learning new tasks and ways of doing stuff, right? Well, I royally messed up, and in the publishing business, that sometimes means that everyone and their literate dog has access to that mistake.

The crossword fiends among us maybe have already noticed the error, but let me get it right out there in the open. On page 107 of this week’s City Paper, I mistakenly posted the answers to this week’s crossword where last week’s answers were supposed to be. Talk about flubbing up. I apologize for ruining your fun, crossword fans, and I’ve come up with a solution to not let it happen again, so have no fear.

What is the deal with all of these metal carts I see everywhere? And where does one get one for less than $40? I’ve never seen one before moving to the East Coast, and I’m dismayed that everyone seems to have one (that is, except my roommate and me). I’ve been far too shy to stop random people on the sidewalks to inquire because I still haven’t figured out the friendliness rating of the District.

Please, tell me where to get one on the cheap. My womanly arms are going to grow out of proportion to the rest of my body pretty soon if I don’t get some relief from carrying gallons upon gallons of chocolate milk the two blocks home from the nearest market. (No, I don’t have a problem. I just like chocolate milk. There’s nothing wrong with that.)

As I mentioned before, I’m brand new to the District. In fact, this is day 8 of my new life on the East Coast. With this new transition comes adjustments to weather (How ridiculous is this weather, people? I’ll tell you. It’s ridiculous!) and discoveries of fun things to do and great places to spend money on delicious eats. Which brings me to cupcakes.

I casually mentioned to one of my co-workers yesterday that I wished there was a great cupcake place nearby. To my surprise, she told me there were actually a couple bakeries devoted to cupcakes in the city; the closest shop to the office is a mere 15-minute hop over to U Street. After a lengthy discussion about our preferences regarding the tasty treats, I decided I’d try the first bakery this morning.

Enter CakeLove.

The less-than-humble “The CakeLove Story” section of Warren Brown’s “About CakeLove” shrine to himself and the play-by-play of his creative “brilliance” was more than enough to leave a bad taste in my mouth, let alone the misspellings, punctuation errors and typos that littered his site. (Note to Mr. Brown: I would be thrilled to tidy up your site. I am a copy editor, after all.) I’m getting dizzy just trying to figure out whether the name of his creation is Cakelove, CakeLove or cakelove. Let’s just pick a way to write it and stick with it, OK?

CakeLove seems to just be a glorified Safeway bakery. For one, I couldn’t believe my eyes when the person behind the counter wrapped the first cupcake, a raspberry frosting on vanilla concoction, in wax paper. What happened to the idea of using tongs to delicately place a frosted treat into a cardboard box, preferably in little cupcake stands? The folks at this shop definitely have the right idea when it comes to the cute cardboard boxes, but Brown needs to hit up a couple other cupcakeries — yes, I’m making that word up — and see how the treats should be presented. Heck, he should use his Food Network show to pay for the trip!

First stop on the tour: Magnolia Bakery in New York City, made famous on an episode of Sex and the City. It was my first true cupcake experience, and boy was it glorious. I bought enough to take a couple home with me to Seattle, but they didn’t even make it off the plane.

Trophy Cupcakes, in the Wallingford neighborhood of Seattle, has great presentation, in addition to amazing frosting, though the cupcakes themselves are a bit hard to stomach. I don’t know about you, but my ideal cupcake shouldn’t make me feel like I just ate a brick. Those were some dense little cakes.

More recently, I visited Cupcake Royale, in Seattle’s Ballard neighborhood. Known for its “Legalize frostitution” bumper stickers and shirts, Cupcake Royale comes in a close second in quality to Magnolia Bakery. Its recipe of just-the-right-amount-of-fluff and frosting to (almost) swoon for makes it a top dessert stop on my 2008 Sweets Tour.

CakeLove, though? I’d say skip it. The frosting looks gross (especially at room temperature), the cake is a tad too dense for my palate, and just looking at the chocolate on chocolate treat on my desk makes me want to have a burger and a milkshake to wash down the nasty, cheap Safeway/Costco-like buttercream frosting taste lingering on my tongue.

I hope the next cupcake shop suggestion is far better than this.

I recently moved to the District from the other Washington (as in, I flew over Monday night), and while chatting up the sublettor as he packed the last of his things, he mentioned that he was taking his Brita filter with him. I haven’t gotten a chance to talk to my new roommate about this situation, but I’m concerned.

I never felt comfortable drinking water straight from the tap in my house in Seattle. Early on in my two-year stay in that house off campus, I filled a glass from the kitchen faucet and was dismayed and a bit disgusted to find swirling gray water almost touching my lips. From then on, I used botted water, even to cook.

My parents’ house in eastern Washington (the state) has great water, but I think that’s because we have well water.

When I visited friends in New Jersey and New York City earlier this year, I heard all about how great tap water is in the city, and yes, I definitely agree. The water in NYC is pretty darn swell. NYC is so big and still has awesome water, it would be logical to thing that D.C. water filtration systems would be of high quality as well.

What do you think? Should I buy a water filter on my way home from work tonight? Is tap water in D.C. rivaling NYC in water taste, purity and clarity? Are Brita filters so common in the District that it’s unheard of to drink straight from the tap? Does everyone know something that I, mere “newbie,” haven’t discovered yet? Or are filters for the health-conscious Seattleites and other West-Coasters who move east and fear for the worst?