Meet B.O.B

T-rav has been saving every penny and scouring the internet for a reasonably priced bike trailer. To his delight (no really, delight. Or maybe giddiness) he finally found one on ebay at a price that led him to believe that something just had to be wrong with it (there wasn't), and soon B.O.B showed up on our doorstop in a jumbo cheese wedge-shaped box (T-rav wanted to keep the box for memories, but really, when would one ever need to pack something in a wedge box?). Once B.O.B was fully assembled, T-rav was itching to him for a spin...preferably farther than around the block. So Saturday we hitched B.O.B to T-rav's bike and pedaled our way to a nursery to buy some plants and soil for our garden. 

We went 25 miles. B.O.B did very well and never once tipped or bounced in an unseemly way. Our plants were happily protected in the back, and T-rav claims he hardly even noticed B.O.B's added weight (I thought I should have bought more and I was right. My garden still has plenty of space for some leafy greens or something...as long as it's not long and viney. Suggestions?)

Twenty-five miles isn't too far. But it's definitely farther than I've ridden maybe ever, and there were loads and loads of hills. Really steep ones. The kind that threaten to make you and your bike tip over because you can't pedal fast enough to keep yourself upright. I may have had to walk once or twice.

Two points to anyone who can guess what B.O.B's name stands for. And no cheating! 

the kite festival and laryngitis

 I lost my voice yesterday somewhere between the kite festival and my third episode of Bones for the night. Or maybe it was during Much Ado About Nothing. Either way I've been whispering when I've found it absolutely necessary to speak, which is rather disconcerting since T-rav has been trained (by me) to respond when I squeak, shout, holler, or yelp, and a silent burst of air being expelled just doesn't have the same attention-getting qualities to it. Anyway, this has forced me to analyze the quality of what I'm thinking of saying before I actually say it. It goes something like this: Is this important? Is it going to engage me in a long conversation? How can I say this as concisely as possible? Is it worth heckling T-rav and possibly trying to goad him into an argument that I will have to whisper rather than rant? It's been interesting for a day at least. You might want to try it some time.

In other news, yesterday was the Kite Festival, part of the National Cherry Blossom Festival (no matter that the cherries are quite done). It highlighted handmade kites, had flight demonstrations and a showing of tricks, and culminated with a series of kite fights where the kite fliers try to cut the other kites out of the sky by strategically wrapping their string around the other strings and sawing until the other string breaks. It was very exciting. Although the weather wasn't quite as warm as I would have liked (especially since my nasty cold had moved from hot flashes to cold flashes), there were hundreds of people out flying their kites along with the pros. Us included. It only took us five, ok fine six tries to get our kite airborne (I don't remember it being so tricky to get a kite to stay up. I swear when I was a kid, I just ran and tossed it up and voila! Kite in the air).

Sadly, my cruddy camera does not capture the massive number of kites being flown. It almost looked like a plague of locusts buzzing around the Washington Monument (did I ever mention that the earthquake was nearly 9 months ago and construction on the small cracks that appeared at the top won't even start until this summer?! And then who knows how long it will take. Bah to bureaucracy!). Almost equally as sad is the picture of me and T-rav at the festival that is most definitely not pictured here. We're pale and sickly-looking and my hair is blowing everywhere and we're both squinting weirdly even though it wasn't really sunny. I do have standards, you know. Just enjoy the whale floating in the background and imagine yourself there with us. Visitors are always welcome!

It's Spring!

The Old Post Office

Yesterday we had the dubious pleasure of visiting another one of DC's historic, and free, points of interest: the Old Post Office. It's really an impressive building. Built in the Romanesque style at a time when it was already fading out of style, the fact that the post office survived into the 20th century is quite a feat. They considered tearing it down soon after it was built, partly because of its old fashioned facade, and partly because the postal system had already outgrown the building. During the 1970s, it was again threatened with demolition, but some vocal citizens and the chairwoman for the National Endowment for the Arts convinced Congress to reverse its decision.

So the exterior of the building is pretty fantastic. Surrounded by the bleak FBI and EPA buildings, it's certainly an architectural breath of fresh air. There's a free tour guided by the typically peculiar park rangers up the grandiose clock tower, offering one of the highest views of the city. You can also take a gander at the official "Bells of Congress" (I bet you didn't know that Congress has their very own set of bells). On the 9th floor (the highest main floor of the building) you can see a few photos that make up the pitiful "exhibit" explaining the building's history. But the saddest part of the post office is the interior. Their website boasts "some of DC's mouth-watering international cuisine, diverse shopping, and musical events." But in reality, the main floor hosts a profoundly depressing food court complete with an arcade and kitchy souvenir shops.

The most ironic thing of all is that the building serves as overflow for several different government agencies, including the Advisory Council on Historic Preservation. HA! It's a perfect example of the worst kind of "preservation:" let's turn it into a mall! A shop! An arcade! The worst kind of American commercialism. It's such a tragedy that I find myself looking forward to the day when Donald Trump starts work remodeling the post office into a luxury hotel. Maybe he'll put some class back into the poor underappreciated Post Office.

Gettysburg

This weekend I was itching to get out of town, and to be quite honest, I would have preferred somewhere a little warmer and a little farther (like Florida. Or Spain), but instead we settled for 80 miles north to the Gettysburg battlefield. And this way SS could come along, which made it a bit more worth it. ;) 

Gettysburg National Military Park has a rather ostentatious new museum and visitors center, and I'm sure the displays were very nice, but I wouldn't know. We were feeling a little cheap (surprised?), so we skipped the $36/person total package and opted to create our own tour using a brochure the lays out a 24 mile driving tour of the area and a printout of the Wikipedia article on Gettysburg. If I’d had the money, I might have paid the $65 to have a personal guide ride in our car with us and tell us all about the sites. We saw them at almost every stop, and they seemed to know everything—a true dream job for a Civil War nerd. 

My overall impression was just how huge the battlefield is (at one point the Confederate line was over 5 miles long) and in the 3 1/2 hours we were there we only saw the major highlights. Even though I’ve read about the battle and studied it in history class and seen the movie Gettysburg, I still imagined a nice mostly open field where the soldiers lined up to slaughter each other. Not so, however.  

The powers that be have constructed a road along the battlefield that mostly follows the battle lines. The big monuments you can see in the picture above mark the center of the line of each group of men so you can get an idea of what kind of area they were defending. They were all built by the state or group that they represent and show a little character of the home state. They usually say "Pennsylvania 5th Regiment," or something like that, and then list battle dates, casualties, and other campaigns they were involved in. Between each of the large monuments there are often small stone markers that show where the left and right flank of each group were. Some groups held a line that was only 50 or 100 feet long, while others held several hundred yards. 

On Big Round Top

This is the view from Little Round Top, looking down into the Devil's Den. The picture doesn't really do it justice, but from the top you can see most of the battlefield and you can see why it was such an important strategic position. 

Apparently the Pennsylvanians didn't want to feel left out, so they built this 110' tall monument in the middle of the battlefield. I think it looks more like a Hare Krishna temple, personally. Our driving tour ended, naturally, at the cemetery where Lincoln his legendary speech. For whatever reason, I didn't take any pictures there, but mostly it looks like a cemetery. I thought I would feel solemn and somber in such a location, but I didn't really. Maybe it's because all of Gettysburg seems like a cemetery, and the whole place seems somber. I also decided that with all of the soldiers that died there, there's no way it isn't haunted. If you believe in that sort of thing, of course. 

in which I describe my preferences on social events

I'm married. Y'all are single. No, I don't want to go to your dance party.

Now before you misjudge me or act surprised at this recent turn of events (having been married at the tender young age of 20, I've been going to parties with single people for years and years), let me explain. Back when all my friends were still single, it never bothered me to go to things together. I went to, and sometimes even helped host, myriad house parties, movie nights, bbqs, etc. It was never weird. I tried to remember to wear my ring, and if it so happened that a nice boy started to chat me up, I or one of my friends usually managed to mention T-rav. Sometimes said boy would keep talking...more often he would move on to his next prey. Totally understandable. But I don't believe in the mysterious "line" between married and single people. There's no reason to stop hanging out with your single friends just because you're married. That's weird. And dumb.

So now we live in a new place smack dab in the midst of a bundle of LDS singles. Obviously they're all lovely people, but I only really know about 4 of them, making it a bit awkward for me (and possibly for them) to go single's events where the main point is to mix, mingle, and, most likely, scope out any potential inamorati. Which, again, is totally understandable. If I were still single, I would be doing the very same. But I know very well that the highlight of their evening is not going to be making small talk with the one married girl from down the street. I've been in situations where a boy doesn't know my marital status, is acting very flirty as he introduces himself, and then when I mention the word husband, he suddenly starts squirming and the conversation abruptly ends. And I start squirming because I dislike watching other people feel uncomfortable almost as much as I hate the feeling myself.

In summary: I have no problem socializing with single people. I would be a weirdo if I did. I do feel more than a little awkward going to events that are intended to help people hook up (in the PG kind of way) where I don't know anyone. I'm happy to go to, say, a bbq or a casual get together. Or something that didn't involve dancing or a romantic holiday. Otherwise, thank you for the invite, but please don't think me rude or ungrateful if I don't actually show up.

MLK day

Today both T-rav and I had the day off. And although I felt weird all day--I think I'm coming down with some sort of cold or flu or sinus something--after a moment of silence for Dr. King, we decided to go oot and aboot anyway. We started with a trip to the nearest Wegman's (which, by the way, now sells their own brand of most delicious organic milk) accidentally took a wrong exit on the way to Ikea, putting us back on the right road 20 minutes later--so typical for a DC detour--and then stopped at a little state park on the banks of the Potomac called Mason's Neck. I'm sure it would be much lovelier in a non-winter season. As you can see in the picture below, it bears strong resemblance to the Fire Swamp, but I think we'll go back when things start to green up a bit.

I've been lamenting my lack of a social life lately. We've been bad about making new friends around here, but it seems to me that everyone is So Busy! and Important and no one has time to make new friends. Or maybe we're not trying hard enough...honestly, it's probably mostly that. The good thing is that neither Trav nor I really have any friends (aside from Ryry, of course), so we've been spending a lot more time together. We're a good match, if I may say so myself. We generally have low expectations of our "adventures," have plenty of things to talk about (even if I occasionally end up ranting), and aren't afraid to try weird things. And while I'm being forthright, I might as well admit that a large portion of the time I'd much rather sit at home and read a book or cook or watch reruns of Law & Order than make new friends. It's much less intimidating, don't you think?

Scottish Christmas Walk (aka dog parade)

Old Town Alexandria does a parade every year, which, in my opinion, included all the things a successful parade needs: bagpipes, old cars, candy, and dogs. No floats, no baton twirlers, just pipers wearing kilts and every variety of terrier imaginable with a few hounds, setters, and sheepdogs thrown in the mix.

Sadly my camera battery died before I could photograph all the dogs I hope to adopt. For those of you who know Mr. T, just imagine 100 lil Towsers wearing their family's tartan, marching down the street to the beat of the drums. Yes. It was Fantastic.

T-rav thinks it's creepy that grown men, successful businessmen or politicians or whatever, dress up in elaborate costumes with big fuzzy hats and wolf head purses and parade through the streets waving sticks in the air or shooting off rifles every few hundred feet. What's so strange about that?

I, on the other hand, dream of doing historical reenactment. Madrigal dinners/concerts are my favorite. And then there's the whole Irish dancing thing--donning a curly wig, short skirt, and lots and lots of glitter and sparkles--I guess he'll just have to get used to it.

My Weekend

This was the first weekend in, well, weeks, that we haven't had people visiting, been visiting people, or had good weather. So the natural thing to do was hop in the car and drive west, west into the mountains of the east: the Blue Ridge mountains. We spent the afternoon hiking through unspeakably beautiful hillsides.

We went through a town called Waterlick. If this grocery store hadn't been closed, I would have shopped there. 

Hurrah for the self-timer on my camera. Its one redeeming quality.

  I think we're going to go back next weekend.

How's your autumn coming along?

An embassy event--Moroccan style

Last night was the 12th anniversary of His Majesty King Mohammed VI of Morocco's ascension to the throne. I believe it is also known as National Day in Morocco. Naturally, the Moroccan embassy here threw a huge party and then kindly invited all the Congressmen in Washington. Including their staff. Which meant that T-rav scored an invite. Huzzah!

This was my very first time going to any important event where there are important people (which we are not) and nice clothes (which I do not have) and well-coiffed hair (which definitely does not describe me). And as no one in T-rav's office could/cared to go, we also didn't know a soul there. Intimidating? Yes.

At times (ok, most times) I feel like the soul of awkwardness. In a situation where "networking" is just what you do and small talk is what you say, I am generally mystified. How does one start and carry on a conversation with a perfect stranger? I feel the anxiety creeping over me just thinking about it. But I really wanted to go and see how the Moroccans threw a party, so on went my only black dress and my 4-inch heels, a tidge of eye liner and some subtle lip tint, and once my hair was pulled back in an unsatisfactory manner, we were ready (I've learned that I really really need to learn how to do something besides a ponytail or braid with my hair).

I walked 4 big DC blocks in those 4-inch heels. Very very slowly. And then we were there and there were tons of people dressed about the same--some better, some worse--as I was, and there was Moroccon music and fantastic architecture, and Americans dressed up in traditional Middle Eastern garb, and many-starred generals from almost anywhere, and other foreigners...and even a few young and slightly awkward looking peeps like ourselves. But most importantly, there was food. Spinach, Lentils, couscous, meatballs, seafood-phyllo pie, tomato salad, and bread. Delicious!

We did our best to try to talk to people. We met a very short American man who is moving to Abu Dhabi. And we met Anastasia and Peter--a young Russian girl working on her MA at American University, and Peter, a really really old ex-foreign service officer who, according to Anastasia, has a collection of young foreign girls he takes to various events. Awesome.

All in all, I'm glad we went. I did feel awkward a good portion of the time (what does one do with one's hands in a nice dress?! And is it acceptable to stuff those hands in pockets if the dress happens to have pockets? What's the best way to start a conversation with a perfect stranger who may or may not speak English?). I learned I need to work on my small talk skills and that everyone in DC carries business cards even if they're just a lowly student. And a bit of awkwardness is worth the people-watching and free food.

working for the weekend

I sneak out of the door every day at work terrified that someone is going to stop me and make me stay another 10 minutes. I don't feel safe until I'm out of the elevator and past the little Korean-run convenience store (everything from gift cards to laundry soap and an ATM!). Don't get me wrong- I like my job. It's interesting and new and I work with some fascinating Afghan people. I've learned more about Afghanistan and the languages spoken there in the past 3 weeks than I ever knew before.

But. I'm now working in the "corporate" world. I go in around 8 and I'm expected to stay a full 8 hours, with time taken out for a lunch break of course. But many days I don't really have enough work to fill my time. Sometimes I do. But there are plenty of days that I'm dragging my feet on some assignment just to make sure I'm not done too fast and left with time to twiddle my thumbs. Or delete emails from my work inbox. Or shuffle papers around my desk. Because I don't really want to be one of those people who spend their time at work on facebook or writing blogs. But what am I to do when I'm already 3 weeks ahead of schedule?

So I've decided that I should be allowed to do my work, finish my task, and go home when I'm done. In a perfect world, my salary would be the same, but I would be a whole lot more productive because I wouldn't have to waste time at work trying to look busy. I could go home and do something else, and maybe I wouldn't long for the weekend quite as much as I do now. Ah, what a dream that would be! Don't you think it's a good idea?

New things

I live in a new (and old) city. I have a new job. I'm meeting new people at church, in the neighborhood, and at work. I have a new dress code. There's a new style to my hair: frizz. There's a new Wegman's far from my new house, but not so far I can't make up reasons to go there. I'm giving my blog a new design. So many new things...

And thus far, these new changes have been pretty good. I think I'm going to like my new job (I'm a curriculum developer for a language company that does contract work for clients such as the US military or State Department. Basically, I'm writing textbooks for Dari and Pashto- both spoken in Afghanistan- with the assistance of people who actually speak those languages). My apartment is still kind of ghetto, but we'll only be in this place for another month and a half. Things are looking up for now.

I still miss all of you I left behind. But it's good to be doing something new.