It’s Benign: A Dermoid-Cyst-Removal Recap

good news

It’s benign.

Those were the words I have been waiting to hear since my diagnosis on June 18, 2014. I heard them yesterday from my Ob/Gyn, Dr. Rojas. (He is one of the best physicians I have ever encountered, and certainly the best Ob/Gyn. I could write an entire book about this man and his outstanding attention, care and kindness – and maybe I will in the future – but for now, I want to simply include my praise within the context of this recap.)

After chatting with my doctor and asking my follow-up questions, the most important thing I took away was when he said, “Now all you have to do is heal and put this all behind you.” AGREED!

Now that I know it’s officially benign, I want to put this all in writing so that I can:

  1. Put some closure around the procedure for myself;
  2. Fill in those people that I gave pause and concern with the initial post, FB post and dopped-up instagraming (ill advised); and
  3. Give anyone facing a similar diagnosis a peace of mind or at least the details of a procedure that’s kind of hard to research without reading a bunch of ill-informed crap.

So here we go, one week and one day out of surgery.

Quick Recap

I was diagnosed with PCOS and it was determined that I had a rather large, likely-dermoid cyst on my right ovary. It had to be removed (it was affecting some bodily functions and would just keep growing otherwise… and also we had to make sure it wasn’t cancer) and I chose to do it robotically to take recovery time from 6-8 weeks to 2-3 (and to minimize the scarring).

That Morning

I had to be at the Weingberg Building at Johns Hopkins Hospital by 9 a.m. My surgery (yes, I will call it a surgery, now having survived) started at 11 a.m., and since I was the second surgery that day and likely starting a bit later, it’s best to be on time for these things, yes? I’m usually always late, but not for important things like dermoid removal.

My mom came to pick me up, as promised, at 8:30 a.m. I was still busy wiping myself down with industrial strength cleaning wipes (for surgery), and they leave your skin super sticky for about five minutes, so I was killing time and waiting to put on clothes. My mom, ever helpful, said she’d let the dog out one more time.

Hold up: Did I mention I was dogsitting? Yep. Probably not the best idea, but it is what it is. Instead of staying at their house – which I normally do – I took the dog, Daisy, to my house. Why? Because I didn’t know how surgery would go, how I’d feel after and also they were redoing their floors so we physically couldn’t be there. This theme of taking an easy situation and making it more complicated will repeat itself throughout my tale.

A few minutes later, my mom comes back inside and asks if I’d let Daisy back in the house.

No, I hadn’t.

“Well she’s not outside.”

WHAT THE WHAT? YOU CAN’T LOSE THE DOG BEFORE I GO INTO SURGERY! Do I cancel the surgery? How far could a 12-year-old lab with a bum hip go? HOW COULD SHE DO THIS TO ME?

I was emoting all the emotions.

Lucky for us, Daisy was simply two row houses down and we were back in business. I’m pretty sure that I sweat through my newly-cleaned skin, but what can you do?

We then hopped into the car, mom drove, then pulled over and made me drive us to the Weinberg Building where she dropped me off. She then went to go get my Aunt Dene who was going to keep her company and keep everyone (yes – everyone) entertained. I told my mom to get her AFTER she dropped me off because Aunt Dene is usually late, like me, and I didn’t want anymore drama before surgery. Oh Molly. If you only knew…


I assumed I’d have to wait a million years to be taken back to get ready for surgery. This was not the case. I registered on the kiosk, registered with a human, sat in the waiting room long enough to pull out my book and start reading one page… and then voila – it was time to go back to get prepped.

This is when I wished my mom and Aunt Dene were already with me. I didn’t want to go back there alone, but I put on my big girl smile, told the friendly folks in the waiting room what my mom looked like (incorrectly, I might add. Oops.) so they could direct her to my prep room and was on my way.

I then encountered at least fifteen different people, and please believe me when I tell you that each person was friendly, calming and confident. I didn’t hesitate in the least and really felt like I was in the best place I could be for this surgery. I had my vitals taken, my allergies were confirmed and reconfirmed a million times and I changed into my sexy surgery get up:

Ready for Dermoid Removal

I now regret this photo, but it is what it is.

Dr. Rojas came by, my mom and Aunt Dene met him for the first time and confirmed how awesome he is, I met Dr. Nickles-Fader (who was proctoring Dr. Rojas) who was very nice and reassuring and I met the team of anesthesiologists and they explained the procedure. That’s when I became nervous. Not because they did a bad job, but because I really thought about the breathing tube they were sticking down my throat. I guess I hadn’t considered that before as part of my this-surgery-isn’t-a-big-deal preparations, and knowing I have asthma… I just got nervous. But I was assured I’d be heavily sedated and likely not even awake. Besides – what was I going to do… cancel the surgery? Nope.

After a few jokes about drinking + oxycodone (thank you Aunt Dene), I kissed the fam goodbye and went off to surgery.


Once I was wheeled into surgery, around noon if memory serves, I was introduced to the robot that was performing the surgery. That’s a crazy sentence to type.

I then hopped from the bed they brought me in on to the surgery table (<– scientific term) and then it was off to the races. Not literally, of course, but I did feel like I was at a pit stop (which they pre-warned me about). Everyone there had a job to do and a role to play, and it was go time. Dr. Rojas was right there with me, holding my hand and giving me a last-minute pep talk. I think I said something about all the alcohol-related talk that preceded the surgery (again, thank you Aunt Dene) and the next thing I knew I was awake and it was 7 p.m.


Yes, 7 p.m. This surgery was to take no more than three hours on average, so when I finally did some basic math and realized that it was four hours beyond that, my first thought was: did I miss Top Chef Duels? (I’m not kidding. That was my actual first thought.)

I remember Dr. Rojas telling me that the surgery to remove the cyst went really well – it was, in fact a dermoid, they got it out with only three small incisions (and one in my belly button) and it looked benign (as pathology today confirmed).


The problem was – I had some difficulty accepting the breathing tube going down and then when they went to remove it. I started to panic and then remembered I was breathing just fine and didn’t remember a thing so… ok. It’s ok.

The “bronchial incident” added four hours more onto surgery time… and it also landed me in the ICU for the night. For observation. More of a precaution. Ok. It’s ok.

My stupid asthma attack (which was later explained as some blood entering my lungs from trauma – but I might have gotten that wrong?) took this outpatient procedure to ICU heights. Well done, lungs. #nope

I then hoisted myself from the surgery table back to the bed to go to the Weinberg Intensive Care Unit (WICU) and that’s when all the feels came.


I knew my dad was probably freaking out (he was), I was worried about my mom and Aunt Dene and what they must have been going through, I was SO THIRSTY and so sure I was of sound mind (I wasn’t.) I wanted to know if the dermoid had teeth, hair, bones and fat (it did!) and did it rupture (it did – but they got it all because it was in a bag) or come out whole and OMG WHERE WAS DAISY (answer: with my awesome neighbors doing great) and could they charge my cell phone (yes of course) and did the TV have the Bravo channel (it did!) and did I miss Top Chef Duels (enough with the Top Chef, Molly) and my breath is terrible and someone call my dad and I should answer the missed texts and calls (now is not the time) and holy cow I’m nauseous (as expected) and… so much. So, so much.

I think I checked Facebook (damn you, technology) and realized that HOLY SH*T I had freaked out the 90 percent of my friends who I didn’t even tell about the surgery. (Again – sorry all.) I then thought it would be a great idea to post something from the WICU:

but it turns out I was still too groggy, tired and loopy from the day and probably should have just waited. Oops, and again – sorry all!

I had amazing care in the WICU. My night nurse – Amelia – was fantastic. She was nurturing and kind and listened to my crazy stories and just made me feel as comfortable as she could. I cannot say enough good things about her.

Around 4 a.m., I finally had to pee – about time given all the IV bags of fluid I was absorbing and all the ice water I was downing. My fingers looked like sausages, but it still took forever to get the urge to pee.

TMI, you say? I’m here to tell you that there’s NO SUCH THING AS TMI IN AN ICU. I peed next to a window, with a wide open hospital gown, in front of nurses I just met and teams of residents and doctors doing rounds. NO BIG DEAL. I PEE ANYWHERE IN FRONT OF ANYONE NOW.

Peeing and eating and not needing the respiratory medicine anymore got me a ticket out of the ICU the next day. (Shout out to Kate and Genevieve who were my new nurse and nurse-in-training after 7 a.m. – you both were wonderful as well. And very, very patient with me.) (You won’t read this, but I’m writing it anyway.) (Thanks nursing staff at Weinberg!)


Home-based recovery is boring and challenging and annoying and wonderful. Wonderful because you’re at home and it’s not as hard as you thought it might be. Annoying because it gets so boring so fast, and you don’t really have enough energy to do anything meaningful with your at-home time, like you previously thought you would. Challenging because HOLY CRAP MY STAIRS ARE STEEP AND WHY AM I DOGSITTING AGAIN?

Boring because it’s annoying and challenging. But all-in-all, it’s amazing how quickly the body heals. It wasn’t easy for the first three days, but it wasn’t terrible. Thanks oxycodone? I stopped taking the pain medication on Saturday, and basically just had to keep myself from doing too much.

I think the most difficult part, after the initial few days, is remembering that you just had surgery and needed to take it easy. I felt no pain on Sunday, but after a 15 minute car ride to the pool (at the house where I was dogsitting), I was beat for the rest of the day and slept 14 hours that night. In other words, take it easy, Molly! (I should mention I’m not allowed to bathe or swim (yes – I can shower, duh) for 6-8 weeks, so I just laid down and put my feet in every once in a while.)

But how great is that? I had a large 11+ centimeter in diameter cyst removed laparoscopically BY A ROBOT and three days later my biggest pain was my left arm that had a IV catheter placed in the artery (OUCH OMG SO MUCH HURT – still! A week and a day later it’s still super sore, bruised but getting better.)

bruised and swollen arm

SWOLLEN CITY PITY PARTY. (Plus all the beverages because I’m still me.)

I am not allowed to drive yet (maybe Saturday?) and while I feel no pain, I still get tired quickly. I can’t do any exercise for six weeks, but Dr. Rojas might be able to clear me sooner depending on how I heal. I’m hoping for sooner because I miss the team at Rev Cycle Studio and my #TruetTime. All this sitting without any physical activity makes me nervous, I won’t lie.

My goal is to go back to work on Monday – even if it’s just for a half day. I seem to be on track, but we’ll find out.

All this sitting/laying down has allowed me the time to get my new jewelry-business adventure launched, so that’s one really big positive.

Let’s Give Thanks

Of course I couldn’t write up this recap without giving thanks to everyone of you for sending your positive thoughts, praying and otherwise supporting me. Thank you, you wonderful people, you!

  • Thank you to B, C and V – wonderful neighbors (and friends) who assisted in all-things Daisy related. They fed her and let her out during the day, and took her into their home during my unexpected ICU overnight. No questions, no hassle – just many offers to be helpful. What a RELIEF they provided. Thank you, neighbors!
  • Thank you to Aunt Dene – you made all of the care team laugh with your questions about pain meds and drinking, you brightened my day by being there to take my mind off of things, you certainly kept my mom sane by being there with her the entire time and you thought of questions to ask that I never would have thought of, but definitely wanted to know. THANK YOU!
  • Thank you, Tinkerbell (aka my mom). There isn’t enough room to thank you for everything you did and continue to do for me. You may have almost lost Daisy pre-surgery, but you also took care of me, waited on my hand-and-foot and kept my demands in check. I LOVE YOU. (You also don’t own a computer so I know you won’t read this.)
  • Thank you to everyone that reached out via Instagram, Facebook, text, phone and floral/food arrangements:

Cute cures. #dogswithbooboos

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There is nothing better, after any big life experience, than knowing people care about you. You feel vulnerable and not at all like yourself, so it’s so, so, so nice to feel the love – no matter which form it comes.

The End

This was a long post and if you made it this far – get a hobby. JK – thanks for your time.

I probably left something out, and that bothers me, so I reserve the right to come back and add information in. If you are considering a similar surgery, please feel free to contact me and I’ll do my best to answer any questions you may have.

I’ll leave you with my favorite emoji because peace, man.


P.S. Things you don’t need to should know: The entirely of this post was typed while watching/listening to this Disney Top 60 list (and frankly, I find the choices to be a bit odd and overly Hunchback heavy):

Take from that what you will. (See guys? I’m still me.)


I’m Having a Procedure on Wednesday

There. I said it. I put it out there into the universe and I kind of already feel better.

Technically, it’s a surgery, but I feel like calling it a “procedure” instead makes it less of a big deal. All surgeries are a big deal… but mine is fairly routine and 99 percent likely to result in nothing serious. I want to take the power away from it and thus, I’m having a procedure on Wednesday.

Short version of the backstory: I have a rather large (likely) dermoid cyst on one of my ovaries and it has to be removed. (PS – DO NOT google-image search “dermoid cyst” because they are so nasty, gnarly and gross. If you do, don’t say I didn’t warn you. Hair. Teeth. Skin. Fat. Bones. Blech.) I’m having the procedure done robotically at – where else – Johns Hopkins and I am 100 percent confident in my care team. Everything will go well and in 2-3 weeks I’ll be back at it. It, being life.

My lady advice: Tell your gynecologist EVERYTHING. See him/her annually, talk about anything you’ve noticed and trust your gut. Most of the symptoms of this kind of thing are every-day occurrences, so it’s easy to miss until it’s… say… the size of a grapefruit. Ok? Ok.

(The trailer above will probably only make sense to you if you’ve read The Fault in Our Stars (read it!) or you live inside my brain.)

This weekend, I did a lot of things to prepare, not knowing how long I might be out of work or unable to move as freely as I will want to. Oddly, it all involved nesting. Suddenly, the coffee table that I had for three years and never really liked became unbearable and I had to get a new one immediately. I had to get a house plant for the living room OR ELSE. I had to reorganize all the kitchen shelves because it was chaos in there (no it wasn’t). All these weird little house-oriented tasks had to be accomplished… so I did them.

I’m typing this on a Sunday night, and I can look back now and see that what I did this weekend in similar to what pregnant women do before having a baby. What is it about ovaries that make women nest? Is it as obvious as the estrogen hormone?

Anyway, I feel better about my living room situation and I feel like I can move forward into the week with a clean house and open heart. I’ve gotten all sorts of fancy schmancy spiritual this year, so the last video I’ll leave you for now is this one, from a recent repeat of Oprah’s Super Soul Sunday. These three, Gabrielle Bernstein and Marie Forleo specifically, are changing my life and perspectives on the daily.

I’d appreciate your positive thoughts, prayers and energy on Wednesday. I believe it works and I’d be much obliged.


Spin. Sweat. Sip. Socialize. @revuup

When I like something, I obsess over it. Examples: running, coffee, the beach, Baltimore. So it’s not at all surprising that when my friend Jane told me about a new spin studio – Rev Cycle Studio – opening up in McHenry Row in Baltimore, MD (technically it’s Locust Point, I think. Basically, south Baltimore.), it really isn’t surprising at all that I quickly became obsessed.

I started going shortly after they opened. I remember that I was signed up for a class at 6 a.m. the morning of one of Baltimore’s eight-million snowstorms, and I bravely trekked down to get my butt kicked by Eddie, one of Rev’s instructors. He wasn’t able to make it in, but Esther did. And the rest, they say, is history.

Rev in January:

#baltimore #sunrise #innerharbor

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Rev in February:

Tomorrow and Friday will be fun #nope

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Rev in March:

Rev in April:

Rev in May:

(Side note: I love how much I’ve improved… I can look back at my stats and see how much more power I have gained. #progress)

I dropped all of my instagram pictures of Rev in above because I want any potential newbies to Rev who might be reading this blog post to understand that I’m serious about my Rev-love. It’s not new – it’s been going strong since January 2014, and I have zero plans on stopping.

When I was invited to attend an event at Rev as a “social media influencer,” I almost felt bad about going because I was already clearly in love. But I’m trying to get back into the blogging community in Baltimore and I really wanted to take a Rev Blast class, so I figured… why not?

I’m so glad I went.

Spin + Sweat

Jami – who is a ball of energy and so much fun – led the twenty-or-so of us in a modified REV60 Blast class:

Blast your body and mind in this action packed 60-minute interval ride where the cycle studio becomes your playground. Start out with 30 minutes of high intensity cycling and then get ready for some interval riding coupled with boot camp exercises that will have you on and off the bike for a full body work out that will leave you completely invigorated and screaming for more!

It was so much fun! I loved it, the time flew by, and I felt like I got in a really solid workout. We spun (spinned?) for 20 minutes to a kick-ass soundtrack, then alternated groups of interval sprints or strength moves on the mats down front.

jami teaching rev60 blast

I was covered in sweat which always makes me feel accomplished. Thanks Jami!

Sip + Socialize

After the class – and some group pictures (naturally) – it was time for the sip and socialize portion of the evening. Check out the spread, courtesy of The Wine Market:

wine market bistro food

wine market bistro

Yum! Turns out, drinking wine post-spinning is just as fun as drinking beer! Also fun? Getting to know some people who I only knew previously online. It was great to talk to you, Mary! To meet you, Annie and Chris! And see you again, Kathleen!

Here’s a list of all those who attended (and their twitter handles):

Rev Cycle Studio: @revuup on twitter, @revcyclestudio on instagram
@katekatebear of
@BreatheBlog of
@theurbanathletica of
@JessJanksA of
@moutlawRun of
@aznstarlette of (Definitely check out her new REV60 Barre class every Saturday at 9AM!)
@jami2joy (Check out her regularly scheduled REV60 Blast class every Monday at 7:30PM!)

I’d suggest following them if you have an interest in healthy living, fitness and/or Baltimore. It was a pleasure to meet everyone! Thanks to Rev Cycle Studio and Wine Market Bistro for hosting!

Beach Vacations Remind Me I Love to Read Actual Books

Growing up, I spent a lot of time at the beach. One beach in particular: Fenwick Island, Delaware. My parents purchased our beach cottage about three years before I was born, thus ensuring I would always know what it was like to go to the beach each spring, summer and fall. For me, having a beach house and regular/easy access to a beach was something I largely took for granted since it was always there.

With age comes wisdom, and now I could just kick that little Molly who always begged her parents to stay in Baltimore so she could hang out with her friends all summer. Going to the beach for all of August was TORTURE to a pre-teen. (UGH. That girl was the worst.)

But that’s life, right? We live, we learn and we try not to repeat mistakes. For me, that means just trying my best to enjoy the time I get to spend here and not letting anything – especially work-related emails or worries – ruin my time. There are too many pretty sunsets to catch.

#fenwickisland you are killin' it with this sunset tonight

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I drove down to the beach on Friday, June 26 and was so excited to have a full week off from work, a chance to visit with good friends that don’t live near me, quality time with my dad (who lives full time downey oshun, hon) and to read, learn and daydream. It all sounds so hokey, doesn’t it? But it’s true. I had big plans for my next week-and-few days.

As I write this, I’m on my last day before I drive home and go back to work. I might leave late on Sunday, I might learn EARLY Monday morning and drive straight to work. That’s still to be determined. (As I sit here editing nearly ten days later, I can now let you in on a little secret: I left Sunday night, got stuck in massive traffic due to an accident, and arrived home at 2 a.m. GNARLY.) But either way, I feel like I’m in a good position to wax poetic about the great life lesson I learned.

Humor me? Thanks.

Hey Molly: Make Time to Read! Actual Books!

I read a lot, but 90 percent of the reading I do is online. By the time I work a full day, workout, make dinner and do whatever it is I’m doing with my life, I’m tired. Instead of reading myself to sleep as I used to do, I fell into the terrible habit of Netflixing myself to sleep.

Mollytics defines “Netflixing” as: the art of watching television shows that you would not ordinarily watch as a means to avoid being alone with one’s thoughts. For example, “I am currently Netflixing 19 Kids and Counting and Man Versus Wild.” WHAT?! WHY?!?!!

Before leaving for my beach vacation, I went to the library (I know, right? Sometimes I forget about the library) and checked-out a boatload of books. During the week, in between pool-time with CK and HK, various Mexican meals with LM, breakfasts with Dad and running around the island, I read:

beach reads 2014

I don’t own a Nook or Kindle or Firebird or whatever. I do own an iPad, but that’s used almost exclusively for Netflixing. I’m not one of those people who thinks that everyone should read actual books they can hold because… you do you. I do know that it’s the only way for me to go. There is something exciting about holding a book, flipping back and forth between pages to re-read favorite passages and highlighting or dog-earing important sections. I kinda like the ache of a heavy book that is switched back and forth between hands – the option of closing or reading later not even an option because you are so engrossed in what you’re reading. When I lug a suitcase full of books on a vacation that involves flying, I love leaving books behind for someone else to discover. I AM A DREAMER AND A GIVER, PEOPLE! (ha)

Here’s what I did not read: I did not read blogs. I did not read articles online. I was on Facebook much less than normal. These actions affected my life approximately NOT AT ALL, which is a good little life lesson in itself. Hey Molly, feel free to step away from the social media!

To be fair, I did check instagram religiously because that’s one addiction I don’t even want to shake.

Here’s what I learned: I love reading words on paper bound together. I love book-cover art (a topic recently featured on one of my favorite podcasts – and blogs – NPR’s Pop Culture Happy Hour).

eleanor & park, food rules

I love the satisfaction of finishing a book. I love the way they send me off to sleep and I love the dreams I have when I’m really into a good novel. I love young-adult fiction, even though I’m decidedly not a young adult. (Or am I? I mean – I’m certainly not an old adult… or even a grown-up. At least not yet.) I do love reading blogs, and I will admit I’m excited to catch-up with my Feedly when I get back home.

And so, like a good New-Year’s Resolution, I’m going to try and remember to turn off the TV and open a book. I’ve learned a lot and really given myself some good ideas based on things I’ve read, so I’m eager to keep it up back in the “real word.” I’m going to, once again, ban electronics from my bedroom. There’s a reason I don’t have a TV in there, and now that rule must apply to my iPad. I’m happier when I’m a regular reader, so I should give myself every opportunity to do it more. After all, 19 Kids and Counting will no doubt be 21 Kids and Counting soon, and it won’t matter a lick if I didn’t watch it all unfold in “real time.”

Do you have any books you’d recommend? I’m fresh out of reading material and I can’t wait to get back to the library to return most of these and pick up some new ones.

eleanor & park & the beach

P.S. Everyone should read Eleanor & Park immediately. It’s honestly the best love story I ever read (thought that’s not even one of the top five reasons why it rocks) and it only took a cool three hours to read, all accomplished while lounging in the sand and drinking wine water.

(You can fit a half bottle of wine in a @nuunhydration water bottle. I mean, that’s what I heard. From a friend. #fenwickisland)

Baltimore’s Best Summer Salads

Over last week and this past weekend, I had two really outstanding summer salads that got me amped-up for summer-salad season.

Ever the unprepared blogger, I failed to get pictures of these two salads. And yet – ever the eternal optimist that this site will, once again, feature updates on my life – I am going to detail the ingredients and tastes so that I can hopefully reproduce in the future. You know, for posterity, and all that.

The Food Market

You can’t read a “best restaurants in Baltimore” list without coming across The Food Market, located in Hampden in North Baltimore. So please know that this salad is only a small part of the bounty that The Food Market brings to the proverbial and literal table on the daily.

The salad: watermelon + basil + feta. While this is hardly a new concept, the way I had it at TFM was coupled with white vinegar and vanilla with balsamic vinaigrette. I can’t recall all the ingredients (I think there were garlic scapes involved, for instance), but the knock-out taste was vanilla. It was so delicious, I probably should have had it as dessert.

Bagby Pizza Co.

We stopped at BPC for a quick lunch (and, if I’m being honest, to catch some of the Germany v. Ghana World Cup match) and while my initial plan was pizza, I ended up ordering their special salad of the day.

The salad: arugula, mango slices, apple slices, fresh feta, toasted cashews and a lime vinaigrette. Not only was the serving size HUGE (and I was super hungry), but it was so fresh and tasty that I forced myself to save half so I could enjoy it later. It’s a shame that this salad is not a standard part of the menu because I would drive out of my way to carry-out this salad on the regular.

I think it’s also worth mentioning that I’m mildly allergic to mangoes, so my tongue swelled a smidge but it was worth it. That’s how tasty this salad is.

Westbound #latergram #Chesapeake #BayBridge

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I’m leaving for the beach (Fenwick Island, DE) on Friday for the next ten days, and one of the best parts of this beach time is stopping at all the produce stands on the way downy oshun, hon so that I can stock the kitchen with good eats (to counteract the good drinks*). Mangoes aren’t indigenous to the mid-Atlantic (shocking!) but I’m sure strawberries or blueberries would work as well.


*Speaking of good drinks: I had about four or five (or six?) (I KNOW) grapefruit crushes at Cowboys & Rednecks Pub (terrible name, really great food and drinks) on Sunday. Well, I had two watermelon crushes and upwards of two grapefruit crushes as we brunched and watched the World Cup matches. DELICIOUS and made to order (ie – I like mine less sweet). Aaron is a great bartender, so if you’re in the Baltimore area (Federal Hill) and need a watering hole that has good food AND drink, I would recommend C&R.