My last day in St. Louis went well. I walked a couple of miles from my hotel to the Anheuser-Busch brewery and took the tour. Definitely worth the time.
I took a bus back from there and just rode it for a while, through downtown and up to the Central West End. When we got to a light rail station, I transferred to the train and stopped at Union Station for coffee. Walked back to the hotel and picked up my luggage, got back on the light rail and rode it to the end of the line (the airport).
All in all, the trip went well. I learned a few things, hopefully did well enough on the test to get my certificate (the three courses I took in this series are rewarded by a certificate that may or may not be valuable/meaningful/respected), and met some interesting people. I plan to get in touch with the other DC resident who was in my group.
The flight home was uneventful. I had to wait half an hour for the super shuttle, but I was the first stop! That never happens. I was home by midnight and felt totally up and awake as soon as I walked in the door. I knit on a sock for a while and didn't get to bed until 2am.
Saturday, I just lazed around. It was so gorgeous, though, that even lazy old me felt compelled to go outside. I took my huge book and hoofed it to the bank where I deposited the condo fees (finally!). (Aside: You know, I wrote to my condo-mates over a week ago, telling them someone would need to take over as treasurer. No replies. I have to give them a deadline next, I think. Stupid treasurer duties.)
I walked a few more blocks to one of my local coffee shops. It's amazing that I now have four decent coffee shops in easy walking distance of my house (15-minutes or less). When I moved in five years ago, the number was zero. I drank coffee, ate a muffin and sat in the front window reading my book. After an hour of that and I headed home.
I feel guilty because I skipped soccer clinic on Saturday evening AND I skipped going to a birthday get-together. I complain about having too few friends and then I don't take full advantage of my social opportunities. I guess I can give myself a break if all I wanted to do was stay home after a week out of town and insufficient sleep the first night back--but still. I wish I could have overcome my inertia and dragged myself to soccer clinic at least. I work like crazy and always feel elated afterwards. I need to get back to the goddamn gym. Soooo lazy!
Today was the last indoor soccer game--the first round play-off game, which we lost. We had a lousy season but I enjoyed it. Friendly group, though we didn't really "gel." We have rounded up an outdoor 7-on-7 coed team, but could use more players. If you're interested, let me know. If I do go to Paris, I'll only be able to play about half the season. And I'm sure we'll always need subs.
Tomorrow, it's back to work and the regular routine. I'm planning to talk to TR this week about my leave of absence. My stomach does flips flops whenever I think about it, but I know it's the right thing. I need to get out of there. I need a break, a change. The change is more important than it's exact form. When I talk to TR, I'll be more committed. That is good.
Grateful for: home.
Showing posts with label dc. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dc. Show all posts
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Friday, February 08, 2008
40 ounces
On my way home last night, I stopped by the liquor store to pick up a 40.
It was the first time in my life I’ve purchased malt liquor, not to mention forty ounces (in one bottle) of any kind of alcohol.
Ok, why did I do it? Well, TR, my “boss” (he’s not the boss of me!) is having a muy importante birthday on Saturday. (Care to guess how old he’ll be?) Work-friend Nina decided that a “40” would be the perfect humorous gift. Knowing TR, she is absolutely right. However, in Nina’s neighborhood, a place of many white folks (not including Nina, however) and few liquor stores, she wasn’t sure where to get one. So, she asked me.
See, I live in the ‘hood. It’s rapidly gentrifying but still mostly unreconstructed hood. Well, it’s semi-reconstructed: I have a coffee shop, high-class florist and yoga studio all less than a block away from my place. None of those establishments existed when I moved in five years ago. In fact, the liquor store nearest to me closed recently.
Still, many, many liquor stores inhabit the main drag. I stopped at the one that is on my most direct walk home. Inside, people were hanging out and talking and one of those people, a marginally homeless, probably alcoholic, man, recognized me. I did not recognize him. He said, “It’s you—I met you that night.”
I smiled.
He said, “You have that little van!” He held out his hand and I shook it. Then he kissed my hand. “I remember you because you’re fine.”
I did remember him then—he’s the guy that offered to knock me up. How could I forget?
He remarked on my earphones (I still had one in) and asked what I was listening to, “Music? What?”
I said, “Yes, music, sometimes.” But usually it’s podcasts!
He said, “Like what? What do you like? What are you hearing now?”
“Well, actually, I like old radio shows.” Now playing: Lux Radio Theater! Beau Brummel! Seriously.
That admission, which seemed not to be clearly understood inspired a long ramble about liking old music and how if there was a problem there had to be a solution. Umm, okaaay.
He let me go ahead of him in line as he proceeded to empty his pockets and sort all his change on the counter.
I didn’t see any 40oz bottles on display so I asked the clerk if they carried them. The clerk rattled off a list of about a dozen different brands. Since I didn’t have a preference, I chose the one with the most outlandish name: King Cobra. The only name I recognized was Colt 45, but I decided to go out on a limb.
As I was waiting for the clerk to get the bottle my homeless buddy asked me to help him out. I slipped him a buck. After I got the liquor and paid for it ($1.90—damn, that’s cheap) he offered to walk me home. I demurred and got out of there as fast as possible.
The rest of the post is not as interesting, be warned.
After I cooked myself some dinner, I got down to a long neglected chore: laundry. I had at least three full loads to do. Yeesh. When you have your own washer and dryer, it’s supposed to be easier. But, I swear, when I had to go out to a laundromat (why does MS want me to capitalize that word?), the whole thing was much more efficient. I took two or three loads and in two or three hours I had a bunch of clean, folded clothing. Now, if I let it build up, it takes a whole night or several nights, many days to fold and I never get all of it put away. (I also hang a lot to dry, which is super tedious. I put everything except lingerie in the dryer in the old days.)
I know that I’m supposed to wash the clothes immediately when I have enough for a full load, but that would mean I’m doing laundry at least two nights a week (maybe). Ugh. I don’t mind the laundry, much, but it’s just not convenient. How do you all deal with the laundry dilemma? Let it pile up or efficiently handle it load by load?
I guess that wasn’t so bad. And, hey, even if my clothing is wrinkled and strewn about the house, at least it’s clean.
Grateful for: my neighborhood characters.
It was the first time in my life I’ve purchased malt liquor, not to mention forty ounces (in one bottle) of any kind of alcohol.
Ok, why did I do it? Well, TR, my “boss” (he’s not the boss of me!) is having a muy importante birthday on Saturday. (Care to guess how old he’ll be?) Work-friend Nina decided that a “40” would be the perfect humorous gift. Knowing TR, she is absolutely right. However, in Nina’s neighborhood, a place of many white folks (not including Nina, however) and few liquor stores, she wasn’t sure where to get one. So, she asked me.
See, I live in the ‘hood. It’s rapidly gentrifying but still mostly unreconstructed hood. Well, it’s semi-reconstructed: I have a coffee shop, high-class florist and yoga studio all less than a block away from my place. None of those establishments existed when I moved in five years ago. In fact, the liquor store nearest to me closed recently.
Still, many, many liquor stores inhabit the main drag. I stopped at the one that is on my most direct walk home. Inside, people were hanging out and talking and one of those people, a marginally homeless, probably alcoholic, man, recognized me. I did not recognize him. He said, “It’s you—I met you that night.”
I smiled.
He said, “You have that little van!” He held out his hand and I shook it. Then he kissed my hand. “I remember you because you’re fine.”
I did remember him then—he’s the guy that offered to knock me up. How could I forget?
He remarked on my earphones (I still had one in) and asked what I was listening to, “Music? What?”
I said, “Yes, music, sometimes.” But usually it’s podcasts!
He said, “Like what? What do you like? What are you hearing now?”
“Well, actually, I like old radio shows.” Now playing: Lux Radio Theater! Beau Brummel! Seriously.
That admission, which seemed not to be clearly understood inspired a long ramble about liking old music and how if there was a problem there had to be a solution. Umm, okaaay.
He let me go ahead of him in line as he proceeded to empty his pockets and sort all his change on the counter.
I didn’t see any 40oz bottles on display so I asked the clerk if they carried them. The clerk rattled off a list of about a dozen different brands. Since I didn’t have a preference, I chose the one with the most outlandish name: King Cobra. The only name I recognized was Colt 45, but I decided to go out on a limb.
As I was waiting for the clerk to get the bottle my homeless buddy asked me to help him out. I slipped him a buck. After I got the liquor and paid for it ($1.90—damn, that’s cheap) he offered to walk me home. I demurred and got out of there as fast as possible.
The rest of the post is not as interesting, be warned.
After I cooked myself some dinner, I got down to a long neglected chore: laundry. I had at least three full loads to do. Yeesh. When you have your own washer and dryer, it’s supposed to be easier. But, I swear, when I had to go out to a laundromat (why does MS want me to capitalize that word?), the whole thing was much more efficient. I took two or three loads and in two or three hours I had a bunch of clean, folded clothing. Now, if I let it build up, it takes a whole night or several nights, many days to fold and I never get all of it put away. (I also hang a lot to dry, which is super tedious. I put everything except lingerie in the dryer in the old days.)
I know that I’m supposed to wash the clothes immediately when I have enough for a full load, but that would mean I’m doing laundry at least two nights a week (maybe). Ugh. I don’t mind the laundry, much, but it’s just not convenient. How do you all deal with the laundry dilemma? Let it pile up or efficiently handle it load by load?
I guess that wasn’t so bad. And, hey, even if my clothing is wrinkled and strewn about the house, at least it’s clean.
Grateful for: my neighborhood characters.
Friday, August 31, 2007
A modest proposal
Last night, I went to a happy hour at the bar where Kansas hangs out. No problem, he wasn't even there. However, on my way out, I was waylaid by Kansas's buddy, Jay. I like Jay and he asked me if I was in a rush and could he buy me a beer. When he stood up to give me his seat, I couldn't refuse and I stayed for one beer.
Kansas showed up right after I'd finished my beer and was ready to go. It was a little awkward but nowhere near as gut-wrenching as it wouldn't have been if he hadn't shown up on my doorstep the other week. I felt a little bad about leaving just minutes after he arrived but that was my plan and I stuck with it.
What I really want to tell you about, though, is this great (or stupid?) idea I had while I was talking to Jay. I said something about voting and how I didn't get a vote anyway (something us DC residents like to get righteously-- and appropriately! --indignant about) and then I said, "You know what I think? We DC residents should get to vote for two senators--any two senators we like. Just pick any two and vote!"
Jay said, "Let me get this straight, you're saying, wait...you're saying, go to the polls and just get a list and vote for any two?"
"Yeah, that's it. Just pick any two. At least we'd get to vote for someone."
"I like it! That's a great idea! And you wouldn't have to change anything..."
"I don't know if it's such a great idea but it wouldn't be too hard to implement..."
We discussed some of the issues this would raise. I posited that someone would have to get the DC voters organized so our votes would be meaningful. Also, it seemed that it would be our interest to vote for candidates from less populous states (Wyoming, here we come!) where we could truly change the balance of the election.
Jay said that it would be hard for a senator from a far away state to balance their interests with those of DC. I said that senators have to balance the interests of rural, urban and suburban populations all the time (WA State, NY State, just to name two) and this wouldn't be different. I might have convinced him.
I thought it was hilarious and Jay thought it was brilliant. Not bad work for a Thursday night.
Grateful for: ideas.
Kansas showed up right after I'd finished my beer and was ready to go. It was a little awkward but nowhere near as gut-wrenching as it wouldn't have been if he hadn't shown up on my doorstep the other week. I felt a little bad about leaving just minutes after he arrived but that was my plan and I stuck with it.
What I really want to tell you about, though, is this great (or stupid?) idea I had while I was talking to Jay. I said something about voting and how I didn't get a vote anyway (something us DC residents like to get righteously-- and appropriately! --indignant about) and then I said, "You know what I think? We DC residents should get to vote for two senators--any two senators we like. Just pick any two and vote!"
Jay said, "Let me get this straight, you're saying, wait...you're saying, go to the polls and just get a list and vote for any two?"
"Yeah, that's it. Just pick any two. At least we'd get to vote for someone."
"I like it! That's a great idea! And you wouldn't have to change anything..."
"I don't know if it's such a great idea but it wouldn't be too hard to implement..."
We discussed some of the issues this would raise. I posited that someone would have to get the DC voters organized so our votes would be meaningful. Also, it seemed that it would be our interest to vote for candidates from less populous states (Wyoming, here we come!) where we could truly change the balance of the election.
Jay said that it would be hard for a senator from a far away state to balance their interests with those of DC. I said that senators have to balance the interests of rural, urban and suburban populations all the time (WA State, NY State, just to name two) and this wouldn't be different. I might have convinced him.
I thought it was hilarious and Jay thought it was brilliant. Not bad work for a Thursday night.
Grateful for: ideas.
Saturday, August 04, 2007
Real time
I can finally get back to posting in real time. Are you as excited as I am?
I am home and very happy to be here. Those trips to Israel are surreal and make coming home difficult. I wouldn't say it's exactly culture shock but I need time to adjust.
I have tons of photos, most of which are up on flickr. I don't have the energy to get them over here and tell the story, but please click through and take a look. They're organized into set with some captions. If you read my travel posts, you'll understand the context of the pictures.
Wisely, I took Friday off from work. I used the time to catch the blog up and try to do nothing. Nothing included going to a movie and sitting at a coffee shop for a couple of hours. I fought to stay awake until 10pm--I made it to 10:40, when I dozed in front of the tv. Unfortunately, I popped awake at 4am. I mostly managed to fall back asleep until a more reasonable hour.
Oh, you'll like this. Guess what was waiting for me in the mail? My passport! I'd love to know when they sent it, but, mysteriously, there was no post mark on the envelope. It wasn't express mail either, just regular old "priority mail." The issue date is 7/13/2007. Huh? This implies that when I first started calling the damn thing had already been issued but they hadn't managed to send it. Really? How screwed up. Now I have two passports. I know I'm supposed to send the one-year one back, but back to where? I'll figure that out later.
My anti-jet lag plan is to do nothing this weekend. Nothing this morning meant going to soccer practice at 9am and running around for an hour. Actually, that may have been a good idea, since it might help me sleep well tonight. I also picked up Tabitha--she didn't enjoy the car ride home, but she seems fine. She's been lazing around all day ignoring me. That's normal though I'm a little surprised not to see her on the couch.
Whew. It's 8:30 and I can barely keep my eyes open. I'm staying up until at least 10pm. Tomorrow's nothing includes laundry, an art gallery and movies. It's good to get back to the "real" world.
Grateful for: home.
I am home and very happy to be here. Those trips to Israel are surreal and make coming home difficult. I wouldn't say it's exactly culture shock but I need time to adjust.
I have tons of photos, most of which are up on flickr. I don't have the energy to get them over here and tell the story, but please click through and take a look. They're organized into set with some captions. If you read my travel posts, you'll understand the context of the pictures.
Wisely, I took Friday off from work. I used the time to catch the blog up and try to do nothing. Nothing included going to a movie and sitting at a coffee shop for a couple of hours. I fought to stay awake until 10pm--I made it to 10:40, when I dozed in front of the tv. Unfortunately, I popped awake at 4am. I mostly managed to fall back asleep until a more reasonable hour.
Oh, you'll like this. Guess what was waiting for me in the mail? My passport! I'd love to know when they sent it, but, mysteriously, there was no post mark on the envelope. It wasn't express mail either, just regular old "priority mail." The issue date is 7/13/2007. Huh? This implies that when I first started calling the damn thing had already been issued but they hadn't managed to send it. Really? How screwed up. Now I have two passports. I know I'm supposed to send the one-year one back, but back to where? I'll figure that out later.
My anti-jet lag plan is to do nothing this weekend. Nothing this morning meant going to soccer practice at 9am and running around for an hour. Actually, that may have been a good idea, since it might help me sleep well tonight. I also picked up Tabitha--she didn't enjoy the car ride home, but she seems fine. She's been lazing around all day ignoring me. That's normal though I'm a little surprised not to see her on the couch.
Whew. It's 8:30 and I can barely keep my eyes open. I'm staying up until at least 10pm. Tomorrow's nothing includes laundry, an art gallery and movies. It's good to get back to the "real" world.
Grateful for: home.
Monday, February 26, 2007
My new driver's license
Last week, I went to renew my driver's license, which was due to expire on my birthday (today). Even though I don't own I car, I do drive (the flexcar) frequently, so I need my DL to be up-to-date.
For most Americans, the DMV (Department of Motor Vehicles) is a dreaded destination. We all remember hours spent in line and the nerve-wracking driving test we took as teenagers. (I failed my first time, age 16; passed the second time, age 16.5. I passed my motorcycle endorsement test on the first try when I was 18.)
However, if you visit the DC DMV, you'll be pleasantly surprised. You don't stand in line for long. First, you stand in a short line, tell the clerk why you're there and get a number. Then you sit and fill out paperwork. Later, they call your number AND put it on a board in case you don't hear it. Handy! You go to the appropriate window and wait in another (short) line. In my case, I handed everything over, paid, and then waited, again, to get a new copy of my license.
It might sound like a lot of steps, but each stage moved smoothly. Actually, it's that initial screening step that makes all the difference and keeps the lines from getting out of control, so I'm all in favor of it.
When my name was called in the license producing area, the man asked if I wanted a new picture. I said, "yes." Heck, I was dressed rather prettily--in my magenta sweater and new sparkly silver necklace (cubic zirconia--love it!)--mostly because I had a date that night (not with Kansas). I even brushed my hair, so I figured I'd take my chances.
When the man gave me the finished license he said, "You got a magazine photo there." I said, "It turned out well!" It really did. It might be the best DL picture I've ever had. That's a pretty good birthday present, I think.
Grateful for: my good picture.
Drop me a line.
For most Americans, the DMV (Department of Motor Vehicles) is a dreaded destination. We all remember hours spent in line and the nerve-wracking driving test we took as teenagers. (I failed my first time, age 16; passed the second time, age 16.5. I passed my motorcycle endorsement test on the first try when I was 18.)
However, if you visit the DC DMV, you'll be pleasantly surprised. You don't stand in line for long. First, you stand in a short line, tell the clerk why you're there and get a number. Then you sit and fill out paperwork. Later, they call your number AND put it on a board in case you don't hear it. Handy! You go to the appropriate window and wait in another (short) line. In my case, I handed everything over, paid, and then waited, again, to get a new copy of my license.
It might sound like a lot of steps, but each stage moved smoothly. Actually, it's that initial screening step that makes all the difference and keeps the lines from getting out of control, so I'm all in favor of it.
When my name was called in the license producing area, the man asked if I wanted a new picture. I said, "yes." Heck, I was dressed rather prettily--in my magenta sweater and new sparkly silver necklace (cubic zirconia--love it!)--mostly because I had a date that night (not with Kansas). I even brushed my hair, so I figured I'd take my chances.
When the man gave me the finished license he said, "You got a magazine photo there." I said, "It turned out well!" It really did. It might be the best DL picture I've ever had. That's a pretty good birthday present, I think.
Grateful for: my good picture.
Drop me a line.
Sunday, January 28, 2007
A protesting we shall go…
My thoughts on Saturday's anti-war rally....
As I approach, I twanged with the thrill of being around so many like-minded people. It's a feeling of unity, solidarity. As I got in the crowd, I saw all the usual suspects, each group hawking their own form of opposition. Some opposing each other. I saw a probably pro-war vet try and put his book with a table of books. He yelled at the keeper of the table when they put it on the ground, under the table. "If you're not going to show it, give it back! Fair and balanced!"
I saw grandmothers for peace. I saw another group of older women in rainbow boas.
The crowd was very diverse age-wise, but not very racially mixed. It wasn't lily white, more like...ochre. Better than many demos I've been to, though.
I took photos. We all took photos. I'd brought my film camera and ran out of film. It was easier when I stopped taking photos, but I missed the chance to catch some of my favorite signs.
I saw UMD students (Spesh would be proud). I saw a lot of NC folks, but no one I knew.
The Young Democratic Socialists gave me a postcard with the time and place of their next event. It was sweet that the guy actually thought I was young enough for this honor. The YDS are a branch of the Democratic Socialists of America, whose politics are very close to mine.
I also saw one of the more entertaining activist groups around, the radical cheerleaders (not their official name--does anyone know it?). The group consisted of at least one man, wearing a short skirt over tights, and the rest of the group consisting of women wearing skirts over jeans making a delightful mockery of traditional cheers. The main theme was f*ck you, George Bush, and it was hilarious.
Some of the signs I enjoyed and did not photograph:
I stuck around for about an hour and a half, I did not march, but I'm glad I was there.
Grateful for: the anti-war movement.
Drop me a line.
As I approach, I twanged with the thrill of being around so many like-minded people. It's a feeling of unity, solidarity. As I got in the crowd, I saw all the usual suspects, each group hawking their own form of opposition. Some opposing each other. I saw a probably pro-war vet try and put his book with a table of books. He yelled at the keeper of the table when they put it on the ground, under the table. "If you're not going to show it, give it back! Fair and balanced!"
I saw grandmothers for peace. I saw another group of older women in rainbow boas.
The crowd was very diverse age-wise, but not very racially mixed. It wasn't lily white, more like...ochre. Better than many demos I've been to, though.
I took photos. We all took photos. I'd brought my film camera and ran out of film. It was easier when I stopped taking photos, but I missed the chance to catch some of my favorite signs.
I saw UMD students (Spesh would be proud). I saw a lot of NC folks, but no one I knew.
The Young Democratic Socialists gave me a postcard with the time and place of their next event. It was sweet that the guy actually thought I was young enough for this honor. The YDS are a branch of the Democratic Socialists of America, whose politics are very close to mine.
I also saw one of the more entertaining activist groups around, the radical cheerleaders (not their official name--does anyone know it?). The group consisted of at least one man, wearing a short skirt over tights, and the rest of the group consisting of women wearing skirts over jeans making a delightful mockery of traditional cheers. The main theme was f*ck you, George Bush, and it was hilarious.
Some of the signs I enjoyed and did not photograph:
- War is so last century
- Eradicate mad cowboy dis-ease (with picture of GWB)
- Free Hugs (I saw a woman pose for picture with the guy carrying this sign and afterwards, he opened his arms to her and she said, "For real?" and ran back to give him a hug. For real.)
- Liar, liar, mideast on fire
I stuck around for about an hour and a half, I did not march, but I'm glad I was there.
Grateful for: the anti-war movement.
Drop me a line.
Saturday, January 27, 2007
Every blogger's dream
Or nightmare.
Yesterday, for the first time, I was linked by the powerful and popular Wonkette. What an honor! Except they linked to the piece of frippery I wrote about today's anti-war protest.
I got two comments that took me to the woodshed for my supercilious ways. I am chagrined. I am on the defensive. I am a little disappointed in myself.
This is a blog about my personal journey. It's not about my politics or my activism.
It's tempting to list my resume of good works--volunteering, protesting, political organizing. It's even more tempting to roll out my unpopular ultra left-wing views. But it would be defensive--even more defensive than claiming such a resume exists. It wouldn't convince anyone and there will always be someone who could find fault. I could do more. And it's true that I'm not willing to sacrifice my day-to-day life for any cause, unlike my friend Spesh.
I told Spesh I was on the fence about going to the protest and he said, "you must go."
So I must. And I will.
Grateful for: my conscience.
Drop me a line.
Yesterday, for the first time, I was linked by the powerful and popular Wonkette. What an honor! Except they linked to the piece of frippery I wrote about today's anti-war protest.
I got two comments that took me to the woodshed for my supercilious ways. I am chagrined. I am on the defensive. I am a little disappointed in myself.
This is a blog about my personal journey. It's not about my politics or my activism.
It's tempting to list my resume of good works--volunteering, protesting, political organizing. It's even more tempting to roll out my unpopular ultra left-wing views. But it would be defensive--even more defensive than claiming such a resume exists. It wouldn't convince anyone and there will always be someone who could find fault. I could do more. And it's true that I'm not willing to sacrifice my day-to-day life for any cause, unlike my friend Spesh.
I told Spesh I was on the fence about going to the protest and he said, "you must go."
So I must. And I will.
Grateful for: my conscience.
Drop me a line.
Friday, January 26, 2007
Anti-War Rally
Did you know that a "massive anti-war rally" is planned for Saturday? I didn't until a couple of days ago. I had my entire weekend mapped out and now I have to go and add a protest to the mix? How wrong would it be to make yoga a higher priority than an anti-war rally?
I feel like a dope because I was fairly politically active while I was in grad school. I was totally out of the loop on this one. Since I've moved to DC, the degree to which I'm active is directly proportional to my contact with my friend Spesh. When he's in town, he keeps me involved. When he's not, I fall out of touch with the various movements. If I have friends who come to town for a protest, I join them. That's happened three or four times, but not recently.
When I contemplate going to a rally/march/protest/demo on my own, I balk. It's overwhelming. In fact, I don't think I've ever done it. I'm not sure I'll do it this weekend. But I do want to see a movie at the National Gallery and the rally is right there on the mall so maybe I can combine efforts. Maybe I'll stand there for a while and try to be counted.
I think rallies/protests/marches/demos are important. I hope this rally and others like it has the same effect such rallies had during Vietnam: making it clear to the pols who pay attention that the public wants the madness to end. It may turn out that I'll want to say I was there.
I know it's more important than yoga. I can take the early class at the "regular" studio and skip hot yoga on Saturday.
Grateful for: a sunny day.
Drop me a line.
I feel like a dope because I was fairly politically active while I was in grad school. I was totally out of the loop on this one. Since I've moved to DC, the degree to which I'm active is directly proportional to my contact with my friend Spesh. When he's in town, he keeps me involved. When he's not, I fall out of touch with the various movements. If I have friends who come to town for a protest, I join them. That's happened three or four times, but not recently.
When I contemplate going to a rally/march/protest/demo on my own, I balk. It's overwhelming. In fact, I don't think I've ever done it. I'm not sure I'll do it this weekend. But I do want to see a movie at the National Gallery and the rally is right there on the mall so maybe I can combine efforts. Maybe I'll stand there for a while and try to be counted.
I think rallies/protests/marches/demos are important. I hope this rally and others like it has the same effect such rallies had during Vietnam: making it clear to the pols who pay attention that the public wants the madness to end. It may turn out that I'll want to say I was there.
I know it's more important than yoga. I can take the early class at the "regular" studio and skip hot yoga on Saturday.
Grateful for: a sunny day.
Drop me a line.
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
This is ridiculous
I just received my FIFTH invitation to a happy hour to be held tomorrow. No, not five invites to the same happy hour; invitations to five different events on the same day.
Before you go thinking I'm actually that popular, only one was a personal invitation. Two were institutional--that is, everyone on a certain list was invited, and I don't even know the organizers. Two of the other ones are also generic, but I do know the people organizing and some of the other probable guests. Also, there are four distinct neighborhoods for these events, making doubling or tripling very challenging.
Here are the happy hours in order of invitation:
My happy hour priority list:
A note to the institutional happy hour holders--next time, could you spread it out a little more? Next week is looking very, very open.
Grateful for: happy hours.
Drop me a line.
Before you go thinking I'm actually that popular, only one was a personal invitation. Two were institutional--that is, everyone on a certain list was invited, and I don't even know the organizers. Two of the other ones are also generic, but I do know the people organizing and some of the other probable guests. Also, there are four distinct neighborhoods for these events, making doubling or tripling very challenging.
Here are the happy hours in order of invitation:
- Bloggers (Downtown-ish)
- Friend's birthday (U St.)
- Flexcar promotion (Capitol Hill)
- Rowing (Downtown-ish)
- City Paper "nosh mob" (Adams Morgan)
My happy hour priority list:
- Friend's birthday
- Bloggers
- Rowing
- Nosh mob
- Flexcar
A note to the institutional happy hour holders--next time, could you spread it out a little more? Next week is looking very, very open.
Grateful for: happy hours.
Drop me a line.
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