The Freckled Diaries

I Have No Excuse

I won't even make one up.

But hello, faithful reader! You will be happy to know that I still live and breathe and that very little of my life has changed, at least in the big picture sense. I still have my same old job, live in my same old apartment, remain involved in my same old stuff (dance class, karate, pub stuff, piano bar). These months of being officially car-free have barely even registered with me. It feels like it's always been this way. This is in part because I totally stopped driving the thing in September, but also because it's just so easy to live like this around here, I sometimes have to remind myself that car travel IS in fact an option, either via ZipCar or the ever popular ride-bumming. For the record, I get rides as infrequently as possible, and those who drive me on a more than occasional basis get rewarded (I was my cousin's designated driver for the 4th of July, for example).

I earned my purple belt in karate, which I'm probably WAY too proud of. It's a big step, though. It's kind of the line between beginner and intermediate, and the test was damn near unbearable, but I made it through. There were at least two points during that test where I was ready to just walk out. I didn't want that purple belt that badly. I really didn't. But something made me stay both times and I'm glad I did. The first near walkout was during the first hour, when everyone is inside (after they turned off the air conditioning I might add), being subjected to an unusual amount of fairly cruel calisthenics. It was horrible. Everyone was drenched in sweat and totally miserable, and during one of our "rest periods" (ha), there were tears. And not just mine. Others were crying, I swear.  

The other time I nearly walked out was more of a mental challenge. There's something called "slapping out", which basically means falling in such a way that you won't get hurt. Being "taken down" means that someone is practicing one of their defensive maneuvers on you and...takes you down. You, at that point, slap out so you don't break your head, neck, wrists, tailbone or all four (five?). One of the reasons I tested for the purple belt in June rather than May (aside from the fact I failed to show up for the majority of April) is that I kind of refuse to be taken down. It's frightening for me. I'm not a tiny person, and the bigger they are the harder they fall and all that. It's also unnerving, feeling out of control like that. That, and one day during one of the blizzard classes, I DID get taken down....a bit too hard. I wasn't prepared for it and I smacked my head. I was really freaked out, generally, and specifically freaked out that I'd wind up snowbound in my apartment with a concussion. Not cool. My instructor was totally patient and understanding (as always) and let me go at my own pace. We even spent half a private lesson with a pile of mats (kick shields, really) on the floor, to soften the fall. I *FINALLY* got used to being taken down inside the studio. So what was the problem?

They moved us outside. To make space for the other groups testing for other belts, and to get us into the cooler air, the second half of our test was performed outside. Green space being hard to come by in the city, "outside" means a large bit of sidewalk outside Trader Joe's. Which means two things. First: On a Friday evening EVERYONE I KNOW is passing by stocking up for the weekend. I'm red, sweaty, look like I've just been crying (because I have), dressed like a ninja and doing karate outdoors. Awesome. Second, it means bricks. BRICKS. I'm expected to be taken town....to FALL onto a brick sidewalk. The tears recommenced. I was so frightened that I was going to crack my skull open, and was really about to just leave. I asked if we could go back inside, and was told no. But it was a kind no. A "you can do this" no. The whole group was held up 15 minutes while we all (for my sake alone) practiced slapping out again and again before the whole defensive maneuver/take down stuff happened. And guess what? I survived. And got my purple belt :).

So that's my update for now. I really will be around these parts more often. I need to find a good balance for this blog. The majority of my amusing anecdotes/points of stress still have to do with the male of our species (though that whole business has gotten FAR simpler in the past month or so), and I just cannot and will not write about all that but I'm sure I can remember to write about something funny/silly/cute/annoying/stressful/etc that happened at work/dance/karate etc. I will do it! 

I Solemnly Swear That I Am Up To No Good

Hey there. Long time no see. I'm sure the handful of my faithful readers have long abandoned ship. I know I would have. I'm not going to claim I've been busy, because I haven't. Not in my traditional sense of the excuse at least. I HAVE been spending very little time at home, and even less time at home in a state conducive to blogging. 

I've been up to all sorts of shenanigans the likes of which I do my very best to keep off these pages. I've been telling people that I'm just now hitting my teenage rebellion period. So there. That's about it.

Two big things have happened that I feel are worth mentioning, and certainly worth blogging about with pictures when I get the chance. First (chronologically, not in order of importance), Catherine (of Alaska living fame--remember her?), her husband (newly returned from Afghanistan, name withheld because we haven't talked about his feelings about being written about) and their darling 14-month-old son were gracious enough to stop by and stay with me for a weekend on a whirlwind East Coast roadtrip. It was so great to see them again (and meet the wee one!), and a good time was had by all. And, most importantly, my non-babyproofed apartment did not manage to maim, injure, eat or otherwise destroy the fair bairn, so the visit was officially a success (and there were bikes, which will be written about).

Then, on April 21st (a particularly auspicious date as it's the first day of the venerable Taurus sign of the Zodiac), my sister had a baby, a very tiny and very sleepy little girl named Makayla (pronounced Michaela). I went up to visit last weekend and have many sweet pictures to share, which I will do when it's not 2am and I'm newly returned from the Rugby Ball at the French Embassy, having had a wonderful time with my....whatever he was (date? friend? person I went with?). All (err, ok most) signs point to "date". 

Either way it was great. He won a prize in the raffle (a signed Donovan McNabb Redskins jersey, impressive because that trade only just happened), the food was great, I got to dance to Lady Gaga, and rugby people are, on the whole, extremely amusing to be around. Will consider writing more about the ball later (it involves organized crowd surfing and some fine young lads from the Royal Air Force, just a heads up).

That's all for now. Apologies for the absence. You do understand the drive to keep the more sensitive personal life stuff off of here right?  :)

One in.....how many?

The title of this post was going to be one in, followed by the number of car-free households in the United States, but that information does not seem to be readily available. I'm 100% positive that I could find it, given some time and access to the proper databases (librarian alert!), but it's just not that important to me.

What IS important to me is that I am now, officially and at what seems like long last, 100% without the car. After much drama and inertia, I wound up with two representatives from my local used car lot at my house looking at the car. We went for what I thought was a test drive, and wound up at the lot where I was suddenly in negotiations with the Boss. I had to think about it for a second, so I walked home, got my bike, rode to my local pub to speak with the bartender who'd expressed interest in the car (I wanted to not sell it out from under him, but the offers were quite different so I figured he wouldn't go for it). He didn't want it for the price, so back on the bike to the car lot it was and presto changeo, title signed over, key left behind and I cycled away a free woman!

I stopped driving it in October, when the state inspection expired and I didn't feel like paying to get it renewed. I turned in my plates to the state this winter when my insurance policy came up for renewal (so I didn't have to renew). I was going to sell it quickly after that but inertia set in and then it was buried under a thousand feet of snow a couple of times. Two weeks ago, faced with an offer, I decided to get serious. Under mandate from parents I had the car lot folks look at it and the offer was far higher and without the added messiness of doing busniess with friends. In the blink of an eye, what was going to be a quick once-over and casual offer turned into a "let's do this now, how's a check sound" kind of situation. Woo hoo!. Hooray for money. And no more car.

Now to negotiate the price of the rental of the parking space (already have a prospective renter waiting in the wings, impatiently at that!).

"Hey Monkey. I know it's late. Just wanted to say I love you. <3, Sis".

Copy and paste from a text message to my babiest sister (I have two baby sisters, neither of whom are "babies" anymore to anyone but me, being 24 and 21...but still). She's not so happy right now. The spirit moved me, and I hope she gets it.

Saturday on Friday

So, Saturday. Last Saturday (just catching up!), I woke up early (for a Saturday, for me), at 10 and had two things to accomplish: go to Pentagon City (neighborhood of Arlington--there's a large mall and several other shopping areas there) to pick up a dress they were holding for me at Ann Taylor, and meet up with my potential car buyer and hopefully sell my car. They would only be holding the dress until 3, the car guy (Scott the bartender from Pat Troy's, actually) would be at my house at 1. A morning run to Pentagon City it was.

I took my bike on the Metro the 4 stops to Pentagon City because I wasn't sure exactly where the Ann Taylor was and bikes= getting around a whole lot faster. I made it to store, got my dress (ever so slightly too small, but if I swim more and eat less ice cream it'll fit by my birthday in May) and was about to head back via Metro, when I heard from Scott saying that something had come up and could we meet in the evening instead. Suddenly, my afternoon was wide open, it was 75 degrees and sunny and I was 5 mostly flat miles away from home, I had a bicycle and my regular commute route (Mount Vernon trail) was just down the street. I easily came up with Plan B. 

I stopped and got some lunch, then hit the trail and was back in Old Town in no time flat.  I was a bit of a spectacle on the trail for a few reasons:  the trail is full of "weekend cyclists" on the weekends--casual types out for a fun ride and Spandexies out for training. I was on a Dutch bike in a sundress and sandals and was very likely the only person out at that time of day using the trail to actually get somewhere. I was also, unbelievably, one of the fastest folks out there, which really surprised me. I'm usually on the trail with my electric bike, because that's what I use to commute to work. I've commuted on the Amsterdam many times before, but not since the fall. The Amsterdam is generally the scooting around Old Town/to friends' houses up to 5 miles away vehicle. I passed nearly everyone I saw, and kept up with a pack of Spandexies without breaking a sweat, until they stopped for a water break.  The hills/overpasses that gave me so much grief when I first started commuting (pre-electric bike)....I didn't even notice them. Literally, it wasn't until Monday when I was commuting home did I realize that I'd done that route sans-electricity easily on Saturday. My first few weeks of commuting with the Amsterdam, I pushed that bike up a few of those hills. How amusing.

Anyway, I was back in town before I knew it. The trail cuts through Old Town down by the marina, where there happens to be two competing ice cream shops across the street from one another (three if you count Ben and Jerry's, but I personally don't). I figured: pretty day, just got some unexpected exercise....ice cream (yes, even though I had just plunked down good money on a too-tight sundress). The ice cream shops also happen to be across the street from O'Connell's, one of Old Town's many Irish pubs (in case you've missed that fact in these pages). O'Connell's is a bit different from the rest--it's quite upscale, has no live music, lacks the drunken military dude contingent (for better or for worse...), has a proper restaurant that's not quite fine dining but is certainly in the "written about"/"destination restaurant" category, and is a (rare) rugby bar. As I was parking my bike, I saw someone I know from the parade-planning efforts who said "Hey, Catherine, you here for the rugby?". And it hit me: the 6 Nations Rugby Tournament! I'd been meaning to catch a game for weeks but I kept forgetting (largely because many of the games kicked off at 8am our time...). Ice cream ditched for rugby.

I stated for both the Ireland/Scotland match and the England/France match. I wound up getting drawn into a friendly group of rugby folks (mostly members of the various rugby clubs in the area, and many British/Irish expats), and had a grand time. One in particular was a friendly (and moderately pushy) Welsh woman selling raffle tickets for a fundraiser who insisted that I get involved with the Alexandria club even if I don't play. To that end, she thinks that I should get a ticket for the Rugby Ball (held at the French Embassy) in May. When I told her that I had no boyfriend and therefore one to go with she told me that I'd pull one there you silly girl. I told her she'd have to help me out with that and pointed to a few worthy candidates in the room, knowing that she's exactly the type of woman who knows everyone in the room and who you'd want on your side in date-finding. I'd be lying if I claimed that I didn't purposefully steer the conversation in that direction from the start. If this pans out, I officially have a middle aged Welsh wingman, which is awesome. We'll see where this goes.

I'd had a really nice time getting to know those folks (a few in particular) and wanted to stay and hang out, but I had my belated car-selling appointment. I went home, showed him the car and we talked about prices and the fact that his wife would need to come look and left it at that. We're going to figure this out next week.

After that, I headed to my friends Gabe and Mariah's house to celebrate National Corndog Day (yes, there is such a thing and my friends are the type of people who know of such things). They'd bought some really nice sausages from the farmers' market that morning, made a sort of pancake batter with something related to corn, I assume, and fried them up in a cast iron skillet on the stove. They were amazing. We made funnel cakes with the leftover batter, which was even more amazing. It seems unlikely, if I continue this way, that that stupid dress is going to fit by NEXT May, but it was worth it.

By 9, I was back on the bike headed to Old Town to meet up with my friend Mariel for some late drinks and general catching up. Neither of us lasted long (she had a headache, I'd had an unbelievably full day) so we called it a night at 11 or so.

This week, I kept up the busyness. This week, Congress was still losing its mind (the healthcare bill passed the House on Sunday, but the corrections had to be approved by the Senate, and the protesters got really frothy, even for them. There have been death threats and all sorts of nastiness happening. It's times like those where you really question the wisdom in the 1st Amendment (tongue in cheek!)). 

I bike commuted every day this week (finally!), including during a thunderstorm for the first time ever (the thunder was far away, no lightening risk!). I went to karate twice (and one private lesson), a French language discussion evening, my normal Wednesday happy hour, had a date (a nice one), and then tonight had dinner and a movie (Alice in Wonderland) with my friend Tammy. Busy. And loving every minute :)

Feeling Better :)

So it might have been allergies. One never can tell at this time of year, and I don't seem to own a thermometer, so I have no idea if I was actually running a fever or if I I just felt like I was running a fever (although simultaneous sweating and shivering while feeling as if you've just tumbled down some lighthouse stairs is a pretty good indication). Anyway, I feel functional and have since Saturday (which makes me feel guilty, of course).

Anyway. Some catching up.  The snow melted and then it rained. A lot. A whole lot. The Potomac reached its highest point in 15 years (and we've been hit by some hurricanes since then). Here's what the commute Monday and Tuesday looked like. Monday I didn't even bother trying and here's why: (photo from WashCycle)

 

All of the low-lying parts of the trail (of which there are many--my guess is totaling 1/3 of the thing) were like that, not just this small section. For reference, this photo was taken facing Arlington (the buildings in the distance are the Rosslyn section). The river is the Potomac. Standing at this point, if you were to look right you'd see the monuments of DC, and Arlington Cemetery is across the Parkway to your left).

Tuesday, I ventured out and took some photos in Founder's Park in Alexandria on the way in. These docks (or boardwalks, whatever) are generally pretty high out of the water (though Alexandria is no stranger to flooding, this is just pretty extreme even for us).

 

 

 

Here's what Old Town looked like (Monday, high water). This is (from NBC Washington) King and Union. Anyone who has been here before knows this intersection well-- the Torpedo Factory is there (not pictured), 100 King used to be there (sniff) Mai Thai (the Thai place that overlooks the marina) is just next to the Starbucks pictured. I used to live a mere 2 blocks from here (2 blocks straight up a very steep hill, thankfully).

Cycling folks: Union Street is actually the "official" part of the Mount Vernon Trail as it passes through Old Town. 

In DC, one of the locks on the C&O Canal broke, and the police apparently went door-to-door in Georgetown warning people. The towpath (along the canal), was closed (obviously). I wish I could find a photo of the canal from this spot when it's NOT flooded. This is all kinds of amazing (photo DCist)

Back to Tuesday, as the water went away, it left a huge mess along the trail:

 

(photo WashCycle)

But you can maneuver around a mess, you can't around water.  I made it in just fine. And then fell ill with whatever I had, and was out of work for the rest of the week. 
 

I made it out on Saturday and had a positively lovely day, which I think I'll write about next.
 
 

 

Sick, tired, etc.

I've been laid up on the couch for a while--yesterday and today. Got a terrible sore throat, sinus issues and my body generally feels like I've been at the laundromat on tumble dry low for a week. Therefore, nothing's been happening.

I did ride my bike to work on Tuesday (before I got sick), and that was a fun welcome change. I'll post pictures from the flood we just had, though. And really, I generally don't talk or write about the weather half as much as I have this year, but we've really been getting walloped!

Must go. Sleep is calling me back.

Breaking With Tradition....

It is a long established fact that I do not, as a rule, write about my romantic life here at The Freckled Diaries. This is for several reasons: first and foremost (and I take this point very seriously), I do not believe in using other people's personal lives as fodder for entertainment for the masses. By definition, my romantic life is also the romantic lives of assorted and sundry young men. So, out of respect for their privacy, my general policy is to not kiss and tell (at least in print). I expect the same consideration in return, and I do think that it's only fair and civil. Also, I must admit, this is a bit of a self-preservation effort. I have seen more than one young lady destroy a budding relationship when the beau in question discovers that what he thought was a private and personal matter has been broadcast to the internet-at-large. I'd rather not tank something that could be good because of my silly, vaguely narcissistic blogging tendencies. Also, the bulk of my romantic life (such that it is) is really just terrible crushes on unattainable individuals, and I'd rather not have them stumble upon this. Yep, I'm that paranoid.  Finally, this is just really not that kind of blog. I'm no Carrie Bradshaw wannabe, and even if I were, I wouldn't have enough raw material to blog about. My romantic life is (generally) not all that interesting. 

So there we go. I think that this is a good, honorable, honest, fair and polite policy.

However. Some things are too funny to not share (also, there is very little else going on in my life outside of boy-related drama so I best write something). So, if you happen to be the young man in question, I sincerely apologize (though, it would have taken some serious Googling to find this blog so I think we're about even now, alright?). This is not actually about you. This is about me, my friends and the insane little town that you've found yourself wrapped up in. You are not a prop in my life, but you're going to be treated like a prop in this story (again, because the funny bit isn't really about you). I hope you can handle that, and understand the difference.

Fair warning: this requires a bit of background, which I'm going to go into in detail because I figure if I'm going to break a rule I may as well just go ahead and break it. Again, if it's you....it's all good.

Background

This all started last Wednesday, when I was at our final parade-planning meeting. As is the normal course of events, we were all hanging out, being social after the meeting. One of our members tends to get a bit too enthusiastic in the recruitment effort, and can at times become a bit much to non-Ballyshaner patrons of the bar. When this occurs, we try to swoop in and take back control of the situation and allow the bar patrons to go back to whatever it was they were doing before our welcome wagon appeared. This happened on that Wednesday. I swooped in and rescued three Marines from our booster. She eventually left them alone, but they were fun and interesting and we struck up a good conversation so I stuck around. 

One, the quiet one, was about my age, while the other, more gregarious (and intoxicated) ones were (I believe) significantly older. At some point, they decided to leave Pat Troy's for Murphy's, which happens to be a mere block from my house. I was planning on leaving for home at about that time so I told them I'd walk with them, just for the hell of it. After some antics on King Street (in which one of them decided to see if he could ride my bike----highly amusing--big strong drunk Marine on my little, girly Amsterdam swerving up the sidewalk with his knees hitting the handlebars), the group eventually split into two--the two older ones at least a block ahead of me, my bike and the younger one (who I'll call Sweet Marine for now---as opposed to a completely different Marine I've been dealing with this month--also very nice, fun and interesting but a bit more what one expects out of the Corps...still all good, though!). 

Anyway, I got to talking with the younger one, who is really very, very sweet (hence the nickname) and nice (and shy---extremely unusual for a Marine, in my limited experience). We got to Murphy's, where the other guys were waiting for us outside. The non-shy ones convinced me (easily, I must admit), to join them inside for a pint.  Once inside, the two older ones all but vanished (they were sitting near us but completely ignoring us). It was just me and the younger one. I know enough to know that this was no accident, but decided to run with it.

We sat at that bar for I don't even know how long talking about everything and nothing, and hit upon movies. He asked what the most recent movie I saw was, and it was Up In The Air, which he said he saw last month (in Iraq!) and loved. I kind of thought that was a line (because I'm used to military men by now), but didn't accuse him of such. He then asked what my favorite movie was, which is an impossible question for me to answer. I always feel like all-time-favorites should be some great classic, so that answer is Casablanca, but that's so tired and cliched that I feel silly saying it and it's also not true. It's not my "favorite", and my favorite changes constantly. More modern movies, however, don't necessarily have that staying power, so it's hard to name one of them as "favorite". So I said as much, adding that my favorite *type* of movie is best typified by the recent movie, Stranger Than Fiction, which I doubted he'd even seen. He claimed to absolutely love that movie, which I also kind of thought might be a line, until he added that he liked Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind better. This kind of blew my mind, because I'd been deciding between the two for my example of my "favorite", and while both were relative box-office not-failures....they're really not all that popular of movies, really are NOT guy movies, and they're REALLY not military guy movies (though call any of those "chick flicks", and we've got words to exchange). So it was on. We have very nearly the exact same taste in movies, he's sweet and nice and cute and obviously interested in (slash vaguely terrified of) me..... 

Now I'm at a loss. I don't generally hit this point with someone I've just met. I'm much more of a "get to know you as a friend for a while and maybe we'll go out one of these days" kind of person (which, from experience gotta warn you: doomed for failure). The bar is closing (on a Wednesday  for Christ's sake!), his drunken buddies are back and trying to figure out how to get back to the base. I wanted very little to do with all that logistic drama, but I wanted to talk to Sweet Marine a bit more. So, in an uncharacteristically bold move, I asked him to walk me home. Which surprised him (possibly even more than it surprised me!), but which he did. That block (and a half) has never seemed longer. Poor boy was shivering cold (no coat--they got back from Iraq the day before the blizzard....you don't carry a winter coat to Iraq and back and all the stores were sold of winter stuff by then) and conversation had reached an impasse, probably because of my now frighteningly bold move.

We arrived at my doorstep, where we went for a hug-goodnight, and I really honestly don't remember how it happened (my money's on it was me who started it....) but suddenly we were enjoying a goodnight kiss! It was all very confusing and exciting at the same time. We carried on that way for a good long while (and honestly, I can't remember the last time I had a doorstep-makeout, and didn't realize how much I missed it), until I said that I really had to go, and we exchanged phone numbers and I sent him back off into the night in search of his drunken buddies. I kind of figured I'd never hear from him again (because that's more or less how my life goes), until he texted me on Monday and we had a nice little text conversation, and then he texted me again on Wednesday (just this past Wednesday), remembering that the Ballyshaners meet at Troy's every Wednesday, and wondering if I was going to be out. I said yes, asked if he was and he replied "I am now". Yikes?!

Alzheimer's Awareness

So, today was an interesting day. First off, something you need to understand about Capitol Hill is that every year around this time, hundreds (if not thousands) of awareness/advocacy groups flock to the halls of Congress to meet with Senators and Congressmen to push for their cause. Most are seeking federal funding in some form, many are pushing for specific bills, others are just there to make their presence and influence known. This type of thing happens year-round but early spring is always a major, major push time because that's when Congress gets down to the business of writing appropriations bills--deciding who gets what. It's always an interesting time to be up there, and in my checkered history on the Hill, is something I've managed to witness firsthand for four out of the (now) six springs I've lived here.

It can also be a real pain because, as a staffer for a Senator or Congressman, your days are nothing but back-to-back-to-back meetings with people with a cause (often a good and important cause), which is (I understand) exhausting and frustrating because you, the staffer, can't really do all that much in the grand scheme of things. For other Hill staff, from committee staff like myself, to maintenance staff to tour guides it basically means very full and busy hallways (so much so that it's often hard to carry on a telephone conversation if your desk is too near the door, the noise can be so great), endless waits for elevators, and lunch lines so long that just getting your food takes up your entire lunch half-hour.

Which brings me to today. Today, the Alzheimer's Association was out in force. They were easily recognizable because they wore purple--purple ties, sashes, jackets...anything purple. This stands out, and is actually something that most organizations do not do (with notable exceptions, of course). Anyway, they were the most out-in-force group I've seen yet this cycle and I think it's a good thing (lunch lines notwithstanding).

My family has a long and personal history with this terrible disease, and even if we didn't, I still think that this is a major issue that MUST be addressed and fast, or we're all in hot water. Basically, it's a disease that cannot be prevented, that is LONG (10-15 YEARS), and extremely expensive to manage. By the end, the patient needs help with even the most basic of tasks. This disease absolutely will bankrupt Medicare and Medicaid . One in every seven people over the age of 65 will get the disease. One in every two people over the age of 85 will. Think of those numbers. One in seven people with an expensive and long disease! We have these people known as the baby boomers who are starting to push that age envelope. We, as a nation, are going to spend massive amounts of money treating this disease because we won't spend any reasonable amount searching for a cure, which is particularly odd because when given the proper tools, researchers DO make great strides.

Anyway. Back to today. It was Alzheimer's Day in DC today. My uncle has done a lot of work with the Alzheimer's Association over the years, and has worked hard to bring attention in the media to this disease, its victims and their families, and the urgent need for federal research funding. You can read his article about it (and his personal journey to get his DNA tested) here (complete with a photo of my grandmother and my cousin Rebecca when she was wee). And if you're still interested, you can watch the story he did here.  Because of these efforts, the Alzheimer's Association presented him with their Shriver Profiles in Dignity Award at their gala this evening. 

I got dolled up in my black tie best in the gym at work and headed to the National Building Museum for the event. I generally strongly dislike these sorts of events (mingling isn't my strong suit and I cannot bloody stand how people talk to you at these things--always looking over your shoulder for someone more important to talk to), but tonight's was (oddly) enjoyable. Rebecca and her parents were there, and it was good to see Terry and Karen--the only real difficult part of giving up my car is that getting to their house is now significantly more complicated and Sunday dinners aren't as frequent as they used to be, and so I don't see them half as much as I used to. Terry gave a very moving acceptance speech, and on the whole (apparently) the evening managed to raise over $1 million for the Association. It's strange being so dressed up and out so late on a Tuesday, but it was a very special evening and I'm glad I was there.

And a little plug, please go check out the Alzheimer's Association's website. They're far more knowledgeable and articulate on this topic than I am. You don't need to volunteer or donate, but if you understand the call for alarm and want to do something about it, please contact your Senators and Congressman.

Whirlwind

I can't believe it's been so long since I posted. I've been busier than usual. Much, much busier than usual. If any of you follow the workings of Congress, you'll know that things are pretty much insane on the Hill right now, and the committee I work for has an awful lot to do with all of it, and in one instance of all the drama (basically, the jobs bill, the healthcare bill and recent ethics charges), is very close to the center of it. It's making for an interesting work environment for sure, but also an extraordinarily stressful one. 

There's filibusters, House-Senate ping pong (I literally had a dream one night in which the crypt of the Capitol--where you can see straight through from the House to the Senate--turned into a giant indoor tennis court, but we were playing dodgeball instead) and parliamentary acrobatics the likes of which are rarely seen.  I just so happen to have signed up for a Congressional Research Service course for Hill staff on advanced legislative processes (Senate processes, I'll have to do House another time). It meets once a week for 2 hours for 7 weeks. Even the person teaching this course, one of the nation's foremost experts in parliamentary procedure, is all atwitter over what's going down. I *barely* grasp it, which is only adding to the anxiety, because I feel like I ought to have this stuff down. 

One bonus is that because our regular conference/meeting rooms are almost always full of meetings, there have been a few occasions in which confidential meetings had to happen in my office space, which means that I've been periodically been told to get lost for an hour. I had a nice long lunch once, took care of some HR business on the House side (and got my shoes shined), and got a hair cut at the Senate Hair Care another time. Here's the cut---after riding my bike home from the Metro with a helmet on in the rain. Making a face demonstrating what I think of people who disobey leash laws and allow their dogs to attack me on my bike, making me swerve, lose balance and have to jump off into an ankle-deep mud pit (necessitating the shoe shine mentioned above):

 

On top of the nuclear meltdown that is work, I was still keeping my regular grad school/dance class/karate class schedule while parade planning kicked into high gear (our parade was yesterday--we do it a week early because many of the bands and other participants are in the DC parade too and we can't conflict). We had a final fundraiser on Sunday the 21st, a long and late meeting on Tuesday the 23rd (we went to the City Council meeting to get a proclamation, then had a normal meeting), then a dry run on Sunday the 28th, then our final-push meeting on Wednesday the 3rd, our Grand Marshal Ball on Friday the 5th (which spilled into the wee hours of Saturday the 6th), then the parade itself, with events (classic car show, community dog show) starting at 10am Saturday. It was a lot. I'll write a bit more about the parade, and specifically our Grand Marshal who is my new favorite person in the world, later.

Me personally? After Friday night shenanigans at/after the Grand Marshal Ball, followed by working the parade all day Saturday, followed by some social time on Saturday (I couldn't stay long, because the pubs are as packed, if not more, as they are on St. Patrick's Day itself, and I just can't handle those kinds of crowds), I went home for a nap. I got up and immediately went to meet up with some librarian friends at the piano bar after which we headed to Murphy's to try to meet up with a friend of mine who lives far away and who I haven't seen in a year who was supposed to be out last night. She wasn't there, but Mr. You Messed It Up was! Awkwardness ensued, but we eventually ran into each other in private, hung out for a while and long story short, we're cool. So he's around, but this is the last you'll be hearing of him because this is just not that kind of blog.

So that's about it. If I disappear again it's either because Congress is still insane or because I'm spending time doing the type of thing that I generally refrain from writing about here. For my sake, please hope that it's the latter!