My name is Scarlet. Or, at least, that's what I go by around these parts. Some people know me as Jolie, and that's cool too. Come find me hanging with the bluebird: @nov3mbergirl.

I'm a 30-something gypsy wannabe, recently transplanted to Capitol Hill. I pass my workweeks making lawyer noises for the federal government and spend the rest of my time cavorting about my new hometown with or without my two beloved mutts.

My interests include urban biking, fresh local produce, baseball, yoga, kayaking, pleasure reading, running, music, dilettante knitting, spirituality, sex and roller derby. This is a blog about all of that stuff, as well as anything else that tickles my fancy.

Thanks for playing!

(I should probably add that my blog title comes from "Mercy Street," Peter Gabriel's beautiful, haunting song about the poet Anne Sexton. The specific lyric is:

confessing all her secret things in the warm velvet box
to the priest, he's the doctor, he can handle the shocks

This is not meant to be deep, nor is it some secret coded message to telegraph that I'm suicidal (I'm not). I simply find the imagery lovely and am not very good at coming up with names to slap on something like this).