The Freckled Diaries

Oops

"Someone" forgot to bring her bike in from the snowstorm. "Someone" also unwisely left it directly under the leaky downspout during the next day's thaw. "Someone" now owns a bicicle.

Wintry Weekend

So, my Saturday night plans were canceled due to the winter weather event we're experiencing. It's nothing like Snowpocoplyse was, but this is still DC, and here we cancel everything once the white stuff starts to stick to the roads. Now, we've got decently good reasons for doing so: our governments are terrible at snow removal, our residents are even worse at driving in the snow and our public transportation system is completely unpredictable and unreliable under the BEST of circumstances. All of this makes travel a little difficult.

So the planned dinner party in Arlington was canceled, and then I got an email that the piano bar also decided to close tonight (I think because of transportation issues for the pianist, which I can really understand) so my two plans (or one plan and one "if things end early" plan) were a wash. I stayed home and slept and watched most of the last season of LOST pretty much all day and evening, venturing out to get pho and chocolate. King Street was lively and packed, and I'm sure the bars were hopping. I just was very much not in the mood for the non-piano bar scene today.

I want to write up about the strange and interesting happenings of Friday, but that will take a while and I don't even know where to begin. But basically, lots of small world/small town coincidences (four, to be precise) happened and even though it was a sad day (the funeral of our friend Jim), it kind of made me happy--I just love feeling that I've got a community. And I do, a wonderful community, in an equally wonderful town.

So I think I'll leave off with a poem of sorts. It comes from the end of "The World According to Bertie", the fourth in Alexander McCall Smith's 44 Scotland Street series. Both Rebecca and I read the series which is about the inhabitants of a small apartment building in Edinburgh, and (eventually) their wider social circle. The characters are of all different ages (from school-aged to elderly), and all different backgrounds, and are (mostly) all friends across the age and occupation spectrum. It really is uncannily like our little group (and the building uncannily like my old building, which I used to refer to as "44 Scotland Street). At the end of each installment, the friends gather for a dinner party and Angus makes up a poem on the spot. The one from "The World According to Bertie" is particularly nice, and Rebecca emailed it out to a number of us shortly after Jim's death. With no further ado....

Dear friends, we are the inhabitants of a city which can be loved
As any place may be in so many different and particular ways
But who amongst us can predict for which reasons and along which fault lines will the heart of each  of us be broken?
I cannot, for I am moved by so many different and unexpected things.
By our sky, which at any moment may change its mood at whim with clouds in such a hurry to be somewhere else
By our lingering hours, by our eccentric skyline
All crags and spires and angular promises by the way we feel in Scotland, simply that.
These are the things that break my heart, in a way for which I am never quite prepared.
The surprises of a love affair that lasts a lifetime.

But what breaks the heart the most, I think, is the knowledge that what we have, we all must lose.
I don’t care much for denial, but, if pressed to say goodbye, that final word on which even the strongest can stumble,
I am not above pretending that the party continues elsewhere, with a guest list thats mostly the same, and every bit as satisfactory that what we think are ends are really adjournments, an entr’acte, an interval, not real goodbyes.
And perhaps they are, dear friends.
Perhaps they are.

Welcome!

I've been getting lots of visits to this site and my YouTube video ever since Trish and Dottie from Let's Go Ride A Bike so graciously did a post about me and my bikes. So, welcome!  I don't do nearly as good a job around here as they do over there, sorry. I'm lazy with remembering to post, frequently skip posting pictures, and I don't cover cycling exclusively--just a little journal/ranting space that some people might find interesting. Oh, and for a librarian, the state of the organization and uniform application of my tags is an absolute joke. An embarrassing joke.

But all disclaimers aside, welcome!

Today, actually, I have some interesting bike news to share, so it would seem that the timing worked out pretty well.  Today, I did my bike commute for the first time in an embarrassing seven weeks. As you may or may not have seen in my recent comments at LGRAB, I wimped out in the first or second week of December after one very, very cold and uncomfortable ride home one evening (and a sick day the next day). I put a lot of cold weather "gear" (more on that later) on my Christmas wish list, and figured I'd start back up in the new year. Then the new year came along with near record low temperatures and very high winds, making the wind chill something frightening. I have said it before and I'll say it again, I have no idea how Dottie manages. I was half frozen just cycling around town--I can't imagine an hour-ish commute in 10 degrees with wind! Eventually, the weather went back to normal but I was being a bit lazy in my Metro routine but finally, today I got my act together and rode in to work.

I also finally got to give my new stuff a proper try--I've been using it all here and there, but never as how I'd intended it to be used (ie--the commute).

First--my helmet:

 

It's a Bern Berkley helmet, with a liner/ear flaps for warmth. It also has a little place to plug in an iPod, and speakers in the ear flaps. I've had this helmet for at least a month but because I don't like the idea of riding on the streets with music going and planned on the iPod feature to be an "trail only" thing,  I hadn't had the chance to try out the speakers. Until today. It's awesome! I suppose it's the same feeling as headphones, which I never used on the trail before. It really makes the trip even more fun than it already is. And because the trail was nearly abandoned this evening, and I'm kind of silly, I was singing right along with my music (and I'm pretty sure no one heard me).

Next: my coat.

 

It's Eddie Bauer's Insulated Girl on the Go Trench. It's some waterproof breathable material with a removable down liner (that's the insulated part). If I hadn't really wanted something for waterproofing AND warmth, I'd have gone with the Belted Girl on the Go Trench because I like the shape of it better, and it's longer and would maybe mean I wouldn't have to use the "mountain guide" waterproof pants I also got (more on those when I use them--only for rainy commute days though). This thing, plus the Under Armor I'll talk about in a minute, and an old Brooks Brothers cable knit pink wool sweater kept me nice and toasty the whole way (a little TOO toasty by the end).

Under Armor

 

My top is like day-glow lime green though. These things are amazing. Like wearing little toasters. I've never been a super-athletic person (and the closest I ever was to being super-athletic, I was a swimmer), so all of this "runners gear" stuff just never seemed to apply to me. But I'm a total convert, it's amazing. I was even sleeping with this stuff under my nightgown during that terrible cold snap I mentioned earlier.

On top of the Under Armor, I had regular yoga pants and the wool sweater I mentioned. Two pairs of SmartWool socks, sneakers, some North Face fleece type gloves under an old pair of leather gloves (all stretched out). Then, the coat I showed you and my helmet. Total success, except for the feet which were very very cold but not frozen or frostbitten or anything. I think I need to rethink the sneakers. The rest of me felt totally fine, even pretty overheated at times. Not bad for the mid/high 30s. I will need to find a better foot solution, and I know that if I give the 20s a whirl again, I will need something better for my hands. As it is now, I'm back in the winter commuting game!

My Boss Thinks I Should Write A Blog

Funny, no?

It all started when I first started working for the Committee, and I recognized one of the clerks. I asked her if she had worked for a particular Congresswoman in the past (I was strongly associating her with the period of time I worked in this one office) and she said no. It drove me nuts every time I saw her. Then one day, she was telling me about her pool team...billiards. And it came to me. For a brief period of time back in 2005ish (also the same period of time I was working for that Congresswoman), I was on a women's pool league.

Those who know me personally still don't really believe it. I'm very nearly the last girl you'd expect to see hanging around a pool hall. But I was newly single and nearly friendless in a city I didn't know well (and what I did know of it, I hated) and my one remaining friend Grace was in the league and suggested I join to get out and meet people and make friends. I lasted a good 6 months or so before I just couldn't do it anymore. I hate pool. I'm bad at pool. I liked the all the women, but I just couldn't pretend to give a crap about pool anymore.

Anyway, turns out that this clerk was in that same league and I'm sure she and I talked at some point, or at the very least I listened while she talked (she's one of the super-outgoing, always joking around, center of attention types). Mystery solved. My boss got wind of this and ATE it up. My boss is a wonderful force of nature--an outspoken, slightly mischievous  New Orleans woman who seems to have had quite the entertaining youth. I think that she thinks that I'm quiet, reserved, sweet and a little uptight. She loved the idea of me in a pool hall even more than my own six-brothers-having, beer-drinking, practical-joke-playing "Catherine-you're-going-to-be-just-like-Diane Chambers from Cheers" mother.

Just yesterday, I told her that I'd gotten my orange belt in karate and my arms were still killing me from the belt test and she just started laughing and said "I'm sorry, I just get such a kick out of all your eclectic activities--karate, pool, ballroom dance, your Irish thing, the bike--you should write a blog!". I said "ah, it wouldn't be half as interesting as living it, plus I'd always forget to update".

I think that sums up the status quo nicely.

Promises

Are so easy to break. I disappeared again. It's not that I don't love you, my dear Typepad, it's just that I feel like I have so very little to talk about, even though upon reflection, it would appear as if I do.

Also, quite randomly, I remembered that when I was visiting my sister at Smith this October, we bought a disposable camera that I never got developed and now I don't think I know where that camera is. What's even stranger is that I could swear I've been staring at it meaning to get it developed for months. This is not unlike what happened to my school notebook for this semester, full of syllabus and even the textbook (actually a smallish paperback specially prepared for the course...long story). I really hope that both of these items are under one of my piles of stuff (as usual, mostly piles of clothes. I'm already a bit of a hoarder when it comes to clothing, because I think I'll get it fixed, or wear it again, or find someone who wants it, or use the fabric for something else, or have fond memories of that very special time I wore this very special whatever. It's bad. Add in the fact that I've been shrinking out of dress sizes almost faster than I can shop, and I've got a serious clothing problem at the moment).

I got a promotion of sorts at work, which is cool. I'm now a permanent employee. But one who is permanent only until the end of May (it's the government, just go with it). But with the permanent status comes federal benefits and a title other than "Intern" or "Temporary Employee". I'm now a Library Science Specialist (which makes me giggle a bit, but because I don't actually work for a library I suppose they needed it to sound...something). I'm still going to call myself a librarian if that's alright with everyone else :).

Um, we had a wake for our friend who passed and it was really well done. It was a "proper" wake (I think that depends on your idea of proper) and Jim would have loved it. It was held at Murphy's (yes, an Irish Pub) and his favorite musicians played his favorite songs, some to laughs, others to tears, there was a bit of a roast of Jim, and also some love and tenderness. Everyone at some point was happy and sad, sometimes at the same time and generally I think it was a fitting send-off. There will be a Mass and I know a lot of people who are planning to attend, but I'm not sure yet myself and I'm not sure how to express why I'm hesitating. So that's that I suppose.

I still do my full weeks of Monday evening=class (and starting up again in February, ballroom dance after class), Tuesday/Thursday evening=karate, Wednesday= parade planning. Friday and Saturday have both been "going out" nights since the end of last semester, which is great and I'm so happy to be able to actually accept invitations to do stuff again. But it's tiring, for sure, and I think I need to start building in quiet time.

But not this weekend. A completely different group of friends, who also enjoy singing, has planned a karaoke night for this Friday and at my and Rebecca's suggestion, have moved it out to "Little Korea" (Annandale, Virginia) to go to one of the places with the private rooms rather than to Rock-It here in Old Town because we've enjoyed that setup the two times we've done it with others. Basically, for the price of the cover charge at a more traditional karoke bar, you get a private room which means (a) you only embarrass yourself in front of your friends and (b) you don't have to put up with other people's taste in music (c) you don't have to wait 90 minutes for your turn. Not a bad deal, really. And there's often Korean food in the mix which is just lovely.  Not sure about Saturday, but I'm guessing based on how we left things off with the piano bar crowd, we (or I at least) may wind up there.

We're getting to know the people there better and better and the more I get to know them, the more I like them. And plus, the pianist and I discussed the type of songs I like to/am able to sing on my own and came up with a few new ones to try. I apparently go for the old time sound (this is not surprising, actually), a little bluesy, a little jazzy, so we're going to go for some Big Band standbys. When I asked her if she knew "Goody Goody", she looked at me with something resembling alarm and said "why of COURSE" (I shouldn't have been surprised). She said she's looking forward to doing it and thinks we'll be the only two in the room who know it. I somehow doubt it (Rebecca, at least, is familiar with it), but she was very happy that I was asking after it. So yay!

(here it is, lyrics begin nearly a minute in)

Offline

I feel like half the time I update, I start with a reason for my absence. Basically, I had not such a great week. I was pretty sick all week, had a fairly standard workweek, slept a whole lot and did not much out of the ordinary. 

Friday, however, stands out. One of the members of the Ballyshaners (the organization which plans and organizes the Irish events in Alexandria) died suddenly and entirely unexpectedly on Friday morning. We'd all just seen him on Wednesday evening for our first official meeting of the parade planning season, and for drinks and merriment after. He was the first to reserve a place at the Grand Marshal Ball, and was kind heartedly threatening to outbid any of the more suitable suitors who may bid on those of us in the date auction at our upcoming fundraiser. 36 hours later he was found dead in his living room chair by his wife who was wondering why he wasn't in bed. 

He was well-known throughout Alexandria (very highly social and involved man), and all Friday night it seemed that there were several impromptu wakes at various establishments along King Street. We've all been in a state of shock and sadness, but fondly remember him as a witty, kind, generous and nurturing person and the outpouring and sheer number of people affected by his passing is a reflection of his very well-led life. At least one person (a waitress at Murphy's) credits him with saving her life. He noticed she wasn't feeling well one night (to the point she was having blurry vision in one eye) and he insisted that she go to the hospital--paid her cab fare and $100 toward medical expenses. Turns out, her blood pressure was so high, the hospital staff said she should have been having a stroke. He was one of the loudest voices in the chorus of love and support for me post-burglary and for that I'll always be thankful.

Cheers, Jim. Until we meet again.

Longing to Linger till Dawn

I had a nice weekend. Last night, my cousin Rebecca and I went out for dinner-on-the-cheap (to Pho King in the Del Ray section of Alexandria). On the expensive side for pho--$7 compared to the $0.35 we were used to paying in Hanoi but still a nice and inexpensive but hugely fulfilling meal. We then made our way back to Old Town for wine and singing at Bistrot Lafayette. I love that place more and more each time we go. 

The Bistort was lovely as usual but unusually, most of the regulars were missing. I think that Rebecca and I were (for a while at least) the most "regular" people there, and the strongest singers. The end result of that was that most of the folks just loved us, we got in some great group songs, Rebecca and I did "Adelaide's Lament" together (to much applause) and I...wait for it...I actually did a solo. Successfully, too. Really. I did, unsurprisingly if you've ever been around me in a singing environment, "Dream a Little Dream of Me", which has got to be just about my favorite little song ever written. I can remember being as young as 12 or 13 with my mother's old vinyl records "discovering" the Mammas and the Pappas absolutely falling in love with Mamma Cass's version of this song, picturing singing this as a bedtime song (most people had bedtime songs, right?) to my future children. I now realize that it's not entirely appropriate for a mother/child relationship, but not inappropriate either. Anyway, I just plain old love this song, and it's perfectly in my range.

I've attempted this song before but either my weak voice, or my shyness overcame me and I couldn't sing loud enough to be heard over the piano and I was "rescued" by the group. This time, though, I was just fine. Good, in fact. And, in fact, there was someone with whom there was a bit of flirting (a bit, only a bit) who, mid song came up to my side to tell me that it was really pretty (I'd been blusing it up a bit, Mamma Cass style, while the pianist was sticking with the original 1931 arrangement (probably because that's when she learned it!), apparently the sound that produced was nice). Rebecca was also pleased noting that I'd managed to "sing out, Louise". It was nice. 

Rebecca and I are just about the only untrained voices among the regulars and we're therefore not in huge rushes to do solos when too many of them are around. Last night was good for us in that regard, and we do need to remember that while we're not trained, we apparently have sweet and pleasant voices and manage to stay on (or close to) key. So we should sing more.

One of the regulars who was there, one of the "confirmed bachelors" we're so fond of, and I started talking and the conversation turned to ballroom dance. I take classes, and he used to be competitive in the activity. We talked more and more, danced together a bit (which was a blast!), and I hope that he'll come to our social nights at the place I take classes.  All in all, Friday was just wonderful.

Today I slept in so I didn't make it to karate class (probably for the best, my shoulders are still smarting from Thursday's "death spirals"--an exercise possibly invented by the instructors, but named by myself). I cleaned the apartment a bit, and then just hung around the house, intermittently watching Battlestar Galactica and napping. It was a fairly feline day for me. This intensity of sleeping is a little worrisome, but I guess that's just what I need.

I was just going to stay in and call it a night, but by 10 I was bored out of my mind, so I went back to the Bistrot by myself. Tonight, pretty much every trained voice regular was there and it was therefore more fun, with much prettier solos, but that also meant that there was no way in hell I was doing my song. And the nice and vaguely flirty guy from the night before wasn't there. Probably for the best as well. Last thing I need is to form another ridiculous infatuation with some random and unattainable person. Lord knows I've done that enough for a lifetime.

Either way, successful weekend. I think I'll see what my aunt and uncle are doing for dinner tomorrow and maybe go over there, or maybe try my hand at crab stuffed mushrooms here in the Freckled household :)

Alive and Well

Just checking in here. I tend to abandon the blog when I'm busy with things that I don't want to (or cannot) procrastinate from.  Basically, work started up again, which is good because I was kind of climbing the walls there for a bit. It's slightly odd, though, because while I work for a Joint Committee ("Joint" referring to both the House and the Senate) and my "real" office is physically located on the Senate side and because the office I work out of 90% of the time is the Senate Library and has nothing whatsoever to do with the House, all Joint Committees must choose a chamber through which to process its paperwork. My Committee chose the House, so in all technicality, I am a House employee (even though I've been over on that side of the Hill maybe 4 times in the past 6 months).

Our Committee's polices dictate that we wear full business attire whenever the House is in session (and my own boss prefers business attire at all times, but that's another issue). Committee staff tends to dress up more than Member/Senator office staff and non-office staff (like the library, etc). The House has been in session, the Senate has not. And again, I am physically located on the Senate side, and it's about eleventy billion degrees below zero outside these days. End result? I'm pretty sure I'm the only person in the entire US Senate wearing a dress and nylons. Most people are running around in jeans (dressed up jeans, but jeans nonetheless) or are otherwise in "weekend" type clothing, which is very weather appropriate.  I get odd looks in the lunch line. But rules are rules and truth be told, even if work-casual type clothing were allowed (slash not frowned upon) I wouldn't have a thing to wear anyway. I've got two speeds these days--"to the nines" and "baggy, possibly with holes".

This brings me to today's outfit. 

Sorry for the poor picture quality--it was the best I could do. Closet mirrors don't make the best setups (particularly not when said closets are in extremely messy bedrooms-come-bike-garages). Anyway...

This was my first day wearing this dress which I love for a few reasons: it's pretty warm, it's pretty stylish, it makes me feel as if I should be employed at a newspaper sometime in the 1940s (one of these days, I have to get into how I'm pretty sure that on a subconscious level, I have modeled my life after Lois Lane's...it's un-freaking-canny). Also, it earned me about 30 compliments today (one from a particular young man who, well, it's nice to get compliments from if you're me :) ).

The major reason I love this dress, however, is that I bought it when I first moved to DC, in or about July 2004. The idea was that this would make a nice interview outfit, and I had images of myself toiling away into the wee hours of the morning for some important Senator, in my first incarnation of Capitol Hill career ambition. Two issues: it was too small, and was therefore an "incentive" outfit and, I did not have a job on the Hill at the time and wound up having very serious problems getting one. I eventually wound up moving in the exact opposite direction of the "incentive" to fit into this dress, and after years of hard work and heartbreak, gave up on the idea of ever working on Capitol Hill.

Today, after a few more years of hard work (physically and professionally), I wore my dress, toiling away in the US Senate. I didn't even realize the relative significance of this until late this evening. It's just something that happened. And the irony of ALL of this is that I became a librarian SPECIFICALLY because I had given up the idea of a Capitol Hill career. This was the next phase, a new leaf, "Plan B", however you want to think of it. The job with the Senate Library pretty much landed in my lap, it was almost a total fluke. I had absolutely no intention of being a Capitol Hill librarian--I actually wanted to work (if I'd had my pick) in an academic library's rare book room. Anyway, now I'm working on Year 2 in the Senate. Also, I broke out this dress not because I finally had the job and the dress size to match my mental picture--I broke it out because it's warm and it fit....something that can be said about maybe four articles of clothing currently in my closet. The image that ambitious but pretty lost 23-year-old just happened...by accident. 

Tomorrow, I think I'm going to go do something that my 19-year-old self promised myself I'd do when I'd "made it" on the Hill. Go get my shoes shined. It's another little oddity in my bizarre obsession with a Capitol Hill career--there's a shoe shine station in one of the tunnels on the House side that, as a winter break intern in 2000/2001, my very first of what would turn out to be many work experiences on the Hill (during the Clinton/Bush changeover time), I looked at as...I don't know. I wasn't impressed with it because shoe shine stations are all over the place. But I guess I just pictured various members of the Washington political elite stopping for a quick shoe shine on their way to or from important meetings or something. I don't know. I just remember liking it, and telling myself that once I'd made it, I'd go get a shoe shine. 

I don't feel like a member of the Washington political elite and I'm not. I may be just about the farthest thing from it and I no longer (and haven't for years) strive to be among them. But somehow still, I feel like I've made it. And my shoes are pretty scuffed up :).

I Have A Flower Headband

And I love it and I've been posting this photo all over the internets showing it off in all its beaded floral glory. Ok, not "all over", just Facebook and here. I just really like it, and I'm glad to finally have a reason to wear it, along with a reason to wear the second of the fabulous party dresses I got at Macy's this year. I'd take a photo of this dress, but it's all black and it won't turn out well. But it is an amazing dress and I love it and so does everyone who comes in contact with it.

It's actually this dress (see below)but at the risk of sounding totally conceited, it looks way better on me. (Those who know me well, know that my tongue is fairly firmly planted in my cheek right now but for those who don't recognize the new party clothing excitement-boarding-on-outright-narcissism, I swear I'm not nearly as big-headed as I'm going to come off here....). For starters, I kept the bow off to the side, and that plus the headband made it look more flapper-ish, which is cool. That and blondes just wear black better, somehow. Sorry, brunettes. You can pull off pink like no one's business, though and that should more than make up for black.

I also wore my black patent leather super-pointy party shoes with the extremely slippery soles for the first time in.....let's see....two years and seven days. (Catherine from Texas/Alaska should be familiar with them, as their long stint in the closet is tied directly and I fear permanently to her wedding). All in all, the look was great!

 

Moving on....

I was going to a Christmas party that had been Snowpocalypsed out on the 19th, rescheduled to the 2nd. I am nothing if not vain when it comes to parties (see Exhibit A, above) so it took me 30 minutes longer to get ready than I had planned on. That meant that suddenly I was in a hurry to get to the Metro, which meant that standing around waiting for the trolley or a bus was off the table, and really so was walking. Bike it was. 

Forget that it's 19 degrees out there, with gale force winds (wind chill--8). Bike. Bike is the way to go! What's that? More clothing? Protection for the feet? Bah--it's not far! Half a mile, if that! I want to arrive in style, not with a hoodie, some wool socks, boots and helmet and/or hat flattened hair! So what did I do? I went out in to the freezing [fracking] cold wearing nothing but that dress, some nylons, black patent leather shoes, the flower headband, some dress leather gloves and midweight winter coat (this one, actually, photo taken on a significantly warmer night with almost no wind, and with half the distance to go:)

 

Period, full stop. No hat, scarf, socks, helmet or really, proper clothing of any sort.

Result? Within one block, I was considering a return trip home for, you know, clothes. Or at least socks.  But I am nothing if not stubborn when it comes to...well...everything, so I persisted. Within 5 blocks, my feet were frozen solid. Like, literally solid. By the time I arrived at the Metro (10 blocks), my entire body was shivering uncontrollably, my whole legs felt like frozen lead weights, I had to walk propped up on my heels because the rest of my feet were in too much pain to come in contact with the ground and I was fairly well convinced that I'd never be warm again. The elements, it appeared, had won.

[warning: DC geography coming up]...

I spent 4 minutes waiting for the Blue Line on the platform at our above ground station in abject misery, mentally trying to figure out where the most Metro-accessible hospital was so I could get my hypothermia and frostbite treated (ok, ok, dramatic. I knew I wasn't hypothermic, but I was in real fear for my feet, no joke, they were a strange whiteish shade of gray and that was WITH the nylons that make me look slightly tan on. And my conclusion was George Washington University Hospital...on the Blue Line and all!). 

Finally, the train arrived, and I got on, took off my shoes and cupped them in my hands. The boys (err, young men? men?) in the seats next to me looked at me like I was nuts and I explained that I, like an idiot, had ridden my bike to the station and damaged my feet in the process. Turns out, they were both military and had training in such matters (as do I, but theirs is probably more recent). I wasn't about to take off my stockings to let them have a better look, but the color was telltale enough even through the nylon veil. Pretty much, the only thing to do was what I was doing and NOT placing them against heater which is all I really wanted to do. Oh and "you really ought to have worn better shoes". You don't say. So, really, military training for frostbite= fail (when it comes to public transportation at least). I personally have heard that the best thing to do is place the affected area against someone else's stomach (under clothing), but I was (a) not in THAT much pain (b) not about to suggest it (c) not about to do it if it were suggested. (actually, I lie. I probably would have. I was really, really hurting AND I have a proven (and medically observed) insanely high tolerance for pain...it was actually really bad.).

So, I spent the 15 minutes between King Street (Old Town Alexandria's station) and Rosslyn (part of Arlington right on the Potomac, directly across from DC's Georgetown) thawing out my poor feet. By the time I got to that transfer point, I was able to walk using my whole feet, which was an improvement, but I was still walking as if my feet were cement blocks, which is exactly how they felt.  Luckily, I had another 25 minutes to get to Vienna (a just-outside-the-Beltway Virginia suburb) to continue the healing process. It worked. I now had to figure out just exactly how I was getting home. I had visions of borrowing my host's (my ballroom dance instructor and new friendly acquaintance) shoes and socks, of getting my cabbie (ride to/from Vienna Metro to the party) to stop at a 7-11 for those warmer packet things, of taking a cab all the way home, leaving the Amsterdam at the Metro overnight (a bad idea from prior experience). Anything to save myself and my feet from the return trip.

I still hadn't figured out what to do by the end of the party when one of the Catherines from dance class and her boyfriend offered me a ride to the Vienna Metro. Somehow that turned into a ride all the way to the King Street Metro (the darlings.... though it's not actually that significantly out of the way for them, who were going back to Capitol Hill) which turned into a "shove the bike into the back of our SUV and drive you all the way home". Bless them.

So what have I learned from this?

"Vanity is the quicksand of reason","with men, as with women, the main struggle is between vanity and comfort; but with men, comfort often wins" and if I'm not careful "Vanity dies hard; in some obstinate cases it outlives the man". I'll dress (begrudgingly) for the occasion next time.

 

ETA: This is officially the most edited post in the history of The Freckled Diaries, here or at LiveJournal or GreatestJournal. I don't know what my problem is (I had two glasses of wine at 9pm and then Diet Coke from there on out), I just keep deleting key words or misspelling things or....who knows? Generally mucking up the post. If this has appeared on your Google Reader or similar 16 times, I sincerely apologize.