I went back to the very beginning of this blog, an “Eat Pray Love” experience of sorts. It was the proverbial, “20 something breaks up with long term boyfriend and moves to a different city, takes up new hobbies, drinks wine, eats expensive cheese and finds herself.”
I’m laughing because I had this false belief that it was a place that changed me and shaped me into a more informed, more confident human. It was not the place, but rather the people that I was most changed, challenged and impacted by, and boy, do I miss them.
Last summer my travels brought me to Kenya and I heard a sermon that really shaped my experience, comparing God to something Michelangelo once said about the production (I’m not sure which art word belongs here…) of his famous statue, David, along the lines of simply removing everything away from the marble that wasn’t David. Sounds easy and simple, right?
I have a really cool, once in a lifetime opportunity coming up this week, touring around about 500 4-H members in the anticipation of the 58th Presidential Inauguration. Even blessed is an understatement. It’s amazing what can happen in your life when you simply say “yes”.
This week I’m hoping to remove some more of the marble that isn’t me this week, in a city I hold near and dear to my heart and with people that stood along side of me in so much of this growth and marble excavation. I’m excited to engage with 500 of our nation’s youth, to discuss the incredibly hard trials facing our country; to share with them the ins and outs of the executive branch; to show them the newest Smithsonian, the National Museum of African American History and Culture and most importantly, to listen and be changed by all of these 500 youth’s experiences. High schoolers can be the most insightful, and intelligent humans if you just simply take the time to listen (please remind me of this later this week when Watergate-like scandals of lost cell phones and cold toes are occurring).
If you followed my blog this summer, maybe you’ll recall that the house we lived in, Warren Hall, was really old and haunted. If you ask me if I believe in ghosts, I will tell you absolutely that they don’t exist, unless I hear things at night- then you’ve converted me. This is why, even though I’m not a huge fan of cats, I will always have one to blame all the ghost-like noises on.
This morning I was wide awake at 3:00 am when I heard someone walking down the hall just outside my room on the second floor. This was disturbing because I was the only one on my floor and the only other three people in the house have their own bathrooms (as John would say, the ensuite bathroom in a southern accent).
Up to this point I was ignoring the fact that my makeup bag was not in the same place in the bathroom as I had left it the night before, and one of the smaller mirrors was moved. Of course, as I see the shadow pass by my door and hear the footsteps, I’m now flashing back to the 18 year old Kelsey that had to sleep next to her parents when her younger sister told her there was a ghost in the house. But again, I do not believe in ghosts… and I don’t like sleeping in my room in the basement at home anymore.
Of course, at this point, I could not go back to sleep and so I started the check in process for my 8 am flight. At this point, I realized that I was not flying out on Saturday; I was actually flying out on Sunday. I shed a few tears, not because I really wanted to go home, or was afraid of missing anything, but instead because I was going to have to spend another night in the haunted Warren Hall.
Eventually, after reaffirming that my flight was not today almost a thousand times, I fell back asleep and slept in- something I haven’t been able to do in a long time. Adulting is not as conducive to sleep as teenagering has been.
My boss eventually came and picked me up and we hung out for the afternoon and a better part of the evening just catching up and lounging. On the way out of the house, I met some people in the hallway, they stayed next door to me the night before, so the house wasn’t actually haunted, and I would be able to stay in the house another night without Ativan.
We spent the afternoon planning a program for CWF (the program I worked for this summer), which will take place in 2017 at the inauguration in January. Former Program Assistants will be giving tours, teaching workshops on the executive branch (CWF mostly focuses on the legislative branch); and delegates will be attending the Inauguration, parade and a riverboat cruise Inaugural Ball. Registration is now open!
Our bus drivers this week have been a dream, because they know, for the most part, where they are going. This is wonderful for multifaceted reasons, but mostly because I can’t even tell you which way is North in Montana where you could easily use mountains or common sense to figure it out. The school groups that use our program design their own schedule, and so while I can tell you how to get from one landmark to another, I can’t tell you how to get there the opposite way or how to go by a certain landmark to get there.
Directions to a new place though, especially when I only know one way to get there, can be a little complicated if we miss a turn. “We’re going to turn right on Nebraska, Ernest. Ernest, there’s Nebraska.” Our unfortunate mistake may have cost us a conversation with a cop (don’t worry, no tickets) and some other upset drivers on a skinny road. … oops.
After this minor fiasco, we took a little trip down Massachusetts Avenue to Embassy Row, waved hello to one of Hillary and Bill’s houses, Winston Churchill and a lot of the other embassies and then made our way to Ford’s Theatre. It’s kind of like one of those places that you need to see to say you’ve seen it, but other than that, not really that interesting. Then, we loaded the bus again, and went to the National Archives to see the Charters of Freedom, said our goodbyes and then let them off at the American History Museum.
I’ve been laughing all morning, because the kids are of course intrigued by my ‘accent’. I made the mistake of telling them to meet by the ‘flEgs’ and got the deer in the headlights look from all of them. I had to do a little translation afterwards. In light of this, the kids asked the other guide if she and I were sisters, to which she responded, “No, I’m not from Canada!” Since then, I’ve been receiving quite a few questions about “If you’re from Canada, why do you know so much about the US?” (This reminded me of a Mean Girls quote, “If you’re from Africa, why are you white?) I can’t say I denied the misguided belief that I pledge allegiance to the Canadian “flEg” either.
Since then, every group photo, instead of “cheese!”, or “sex!” (as my dear grandmother Frances would call out instead), we’ve been yelling out “Canada!” It makes me smile, at least.
When we finally said our last goodbyes, I can’t say I was too sad to let them go. While these tours are always great, 8th graders are utterly exhausting, and I think their chaperones were ready to go back day one. This group of students was from the lowest socio-economic status county in the state of Virginia. For many, even being so close to our Capital city, they had never been before; some hadn’t even left their county before. I feel lucky to have been a minor part of their experience and am reminded just how incredibly lucky I was and still am.
My evening was spent catching up with a few former co-workers and bosses in Silver Spring. If you enjoy the podcast, This American Life, they did an incredible weekly cast in Silver Spring on a murder that took place here and a man that was possibly falsely convicted called, Serial.
We had our first case of car sickness happen today on our way home this evening, I would also like to mention that this person consumed Chipotle, where the guac is extra, but the virus is free (must be because of those non-GMOs…). Pepto for everyone! Among other minor medical emergencies, we also had our first panic attack, though we did eventually recover from it.
As luck would have it, we ended our day with both of these cases and so our day started off with some bus yoga and a photo stop at the White House instead. The National Christmas tree is obviously all decorated beautifully (tour guide note: it has been decorated every year except for in the 1980s during the Iranian hostage crisis) and the fences are backed up slightly further than before this summer, probably because of the man that was somehow able to scale the fence a few weeks ago.
That was followed by a stop at both the Holocaust Museum and the Bureau of Printing and Engraving. I was excited because I’ve never actually been to the Bureau- it is where they create the paper money that is in circulation, an interesting stop if you’re ever in the area. I was unaware of this, but they actually still print $2 bills- it only happens about every three years, however, because people (like myself) hoard them because they don’t believe they are printing them anymore. Moral of the story, spend every last $2 bill you have so there can be more.
Lunch was at Union Station, where I heard my second favorite chaperone quote of the trip (remember the Southern accent, it’s important), “he couldn’t even blow his nose if it was made of dynamite.”
Our afternoon concluded with a tour of the Capitol building and the Spy Museum. It was weird being on the Hill and not meeting with a Senator or Congressman, but I don’t miss wearing my heels- no matter how short they are. This summer my boss probably didn’t appreciate the fact that I wore my Chacos even with my business professional clothing, and then when we would get somewhere important, I would change back into my heels; but the arches of my feet sure did. In true Montana rebel fashion, I wore my Chaco boots- old habits die hard.
I dropped the group off at the Spy Museum and went with one of the chaperones to find some Starbucks- if you’d like some insight on the craziness that has ensued since this group has joined us here in the District, she ordered her coffee with a shot of Patron- they don’t serve that at SBUX, but there was a bar next door that the barista kindly pointed out to us. This was right after one of the students asked if the reason that a pedestrian was wearing a Jewish Yamaka on his head was to cover up a bald spot- I suppose I am all about multipurposing.
As I mentioned yesterday, the Obamas are in the District this week for many events, so unfortunately the motorcade shuts down some of the main streets for their safety. This meant that our buses were over an hour late picking us up, and this also meant that the students had ample opportunity to check out the Spy Museum gift shop, which conveniently sells stink bombs. I would only have been impressed if this were Fred and George Weasley, but this was hilarious to the 8th grade mind. They set off 5 of them in a row, and the chaperones and I could not figure out why they were acting so weird about it- there you have your answer. I’m also told that they coerced some of their classmates into the bathroom and convinced them that they were the culprit…
I realized I never took a picture with the Montana column at the WWII memorial… so here goes.
Our evening concluded with dinner at the 4-H center, and one last night view tour of the trip, which went off without a hitch. I sang a few more Beyoncé songs in reference to the newest panda cub and enjoyed sharing some more history with the students. Tomorrow will include a tour of Ford’s theatre, and a few other museums and then I will head back to Montana, and they will make their trip back to Virginia, unless the chaperones decide they can’t handle another day…
I did a stupid thing when I was packing and forgot all hair products- in a moment of sheer desperation and, well, again stupidity, I attempted using a real iron that is in the house, just imagine me laying my hair across the ironing board… It doesn’t work. Don’t try it at home, kids.
I forgot what it was like to be in 8th grade, it seems like the only people I’ve interacted with in the last semester are either twenty somethings, or old men at the hospital. Quite the age range.
8th grade is best described by Charles Dickens, “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way – in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.” Hormones are the best.
One thing I do love about middle schoolers is their malleability- they haven’t quite figured out how to interact with the world and who they want to be, and so you still can offer them a suggestion and at times some insight. Though, this experience has again reaffirmed my switch from education to nursing.
Maria and I joined another officemate for lunch at CAVA grill in Bethesda- I’ve been craving it for months, and have tried to recreate their mediterranean bowls and vanilla bean lemonade- but it’s just not the same. I’m also reminiscing about a trip to CAVA in which Megan and I stalked one of Abby’s dates from afar. If you’re ever needing advice from your friends on a particular boyfriend, have them go with you on a date and observe from afar. As long as your poor date doesn’t figure out what’s going on- you can gain some really great insight. I thought Megan and I gave some excellent advice that evening… maybe not.
I also forgot what it was like to be in a place where people recycle, what’s that? The more bins that are available, the more confused I am- like what if it fits in multiple categories?
Today we went to Arlington National Cemetery and narrowly avoided a potential “student got ran over by a tour trolley ‘gate” scandal. The driver of said trolley forgot to put on the emergency break as the students were disembarking… oops. Luckily the driver eventually realized the problem- and I’m happy that no one was harmed, but there is a little bit of a potential ER nurse in me that lives for emergencies.
They were literally so stoked to get to do the wreath laying- each had to write an essay. The one on the left is also sporting a Dorito stain on his upper lip- 8th grade is the best.
The best part about working with eighth graders this week is their questions- how does the JFK flame burn ‘eternally’? What happens if it rains? Is ‘Iwo Jima’ pronounced, ‘eye-whoah- Jim-Ah’? I would also like to take a moment to commend teachers- the ones that are currently chaperoning the trip are absolutely amazing, and they’re full of one liners that have left me laughing all evening.
My favorite so far has been one referring to hitting a deer with her car recently, “I think I’ll take my 0.30-6 hunting next time instead of my V8.” As I’m writing this it may not be as funny to the reader without imagining it said with a southern accent- re-read it now. We also have the quintessential high school movie character ‘Coach’- she’s probably my favorite chaperone thus far. She sports one of those snazzy red sports jackets and has the best ideas on how to do things, and everyone addresses her as ‘Coach’.
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As you can imagine, after six months of not giving any commentary, or even really thinking about it- I’ve forgotten quite a bit of history. It’s funny how when you get in front of the bus that everything just happens and you remember these details you never remembered all summer. The thing that has saved me is that there is a loose wire in the microphone, so it cuts out every 20 seconds and I get to pause and think about what I’m going to say- small miracles. It felt good to reference the District as a diamond, and sing some Beyoncé for a minute with people that appreciate it. My diamond, My rock- thanks Abby for that.
The only real tragedy of this trip so far is that one of the chaperones ran out of cigarettes… it’s been a long day.
Tomorrow will start bright and early, with the Holocaust Museum, a White House stop, the Bureau of Printing and Engraving along with a host of other fun things. I’m kind of sad though, because the POTUS was speaking at the Capitol building today in honor of the 150th anniversary of the 13th amendment- just barely missed it. See you tomorrow, Barack.
My favorite quote from the MLK memorial- another beautiful night.
This summer, away from the vastness that is my beloved Montana, I learned how to live spontaneously, carefree and fully- which is funny because people come to Montana to find all these things.
Less than a week ago I was catching up with my former boss, and friend Maria, who asked me to guide this week- I happened to be done with finals today, and so even with short plans (I got my ticket yesterday), I jumped on a plane today back to the District. Maybe it’s just the absurdist in me that believes everything is already written, but sometimes I think you’re just supposed to be in a certain place at a certain time and the universe conspires to make it work out.
I’m ready for the rejuvenation that comes from being in such a place- as I’ve talked with my best friend Darby, I miss the person I was in the District. That girl whose adventures seemed unceasing, heart was full, and who lived for the day, moment and even second that was allotted.
My goal when I left the District was to continue to live in this way- and I have, but it’s never bad to go back to the place where you find the best version of yourself.
This semester has been an adventure, probably the best one since I started going to school almost 4 years ago (am I really that old?).
It kicked off with a backpacking trip with my best friend, Darby; some marvelous trips to Bozeman; a Sustained Dialogue conference, which opened my eyes to so many things (if you have an opportunity to join a group at your school, do so); I danced every single day; lived carefree; sang obnoxiously, and forced my poor roommate and best friend, Dani to acquire an affinity for Beyoncé; started working in the float pool in the hospital; loved and was loved; kept in touch with the people I worked with this summer; completed an Olympic triathlon in 10 days (yes the whole 26 mile run; 2.4 mile swim and 112 mile bike ride); cried, lots of tears; spent a few days at the ranch for Thanksgiving; found an incredible organization, InterVarsity to be a part of, (thanks to my equally incredible friend/roommate Dani); started training for a real triathlon; found more books to read; cheered the Bobcats on with my parents; laughed until I cried with my beautiful sister (you know those people that are so authentic and genuine that it makes you aspire to be both of those things? That’s my sister.); and navigated nursing school with wonderful human beings that challenged me to also be a better nurse.
“Harry wished he had eight more eyes… There were shops selling robes, shops selling telescopes and strange silver instruments Harry had never seen before, windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eels’ eyes, tottering piles of spell books, quills, and rolls of parchment, potion bottles, globes of the moon […] “
Go Cats Go!Blue bird day with the CraziesSnuggling with my pal, Jessica, who had an unfortunate few days in the hospital. Snuggles are the best medicine.Clinical group at Billings Clinic!Enjoyed a few beers with Grandpa- can’t believe he’s 94.Flannel Friday!Great Falls friends reunion.We tried yoga, and failed.
Professional Birkenstocks.The majestic Beartooths.Sustained Dialogue conference
Never miss a chance to dance to Beyoncé with your besties. Love you all like XO.
Christmas cards with this super great human being.Tate ❤When you find yourself in Bar IX…
Bobcats, Beyoncé, Banjos, with your Besties.I have the best sister in the world.
Nursing school clinicals have been exceptional as well- we split our time between the medical and surgical floors, and I believe I may have found where I belong in the nursing world. I’ve seen really tough, and at times sad cases, most notably, end stage liver cirrhosis, and someone that thought it would be a good idea to shoot meth up in their central line. I’ve given listened to patients as they shared their life experiences, gave shots, administered medications, figured out how to use IV pumps, and started to put pieces together from A&P and pharmacology. I love that feeling you get when you’ve found where you belong, it’s fulfilling, it doesn’t feel like work and I hope I have the same aura that both of my parents have when they’re doing their jobs- full of passion; real, raw joy and high efficacy.
Above all this semester, I got clear with myself on what I want out of life, where I want to be, and most of all how I want to feel. And that my friends, is freedom. Live intentionally.
This week, I’m touring a group from Virginia around- we’ll be going to the cliché places, of course, but even a few places I have not been, including Ford’s Theatre.
This morning, all packed and my things dispersed between everyone’s suitcases (I may have accumulated a few too many things while I was here in the District this summer…), I grabbed and Uber and went off to Dulles Airport. Uber has been really intriguing to my family just because we obviously don’t have it in Montana- I don’t think they even remembered the last time they’ve used a cab. I gave them a hug, and then went on my way, they’ll be to the airport a little later to catch their flight.
When I finally got to the airport, got my bags all checked in, I went through a huge line of security and plopped down in a chair. During times of transition and change, I’m drawn to the song ‘Where Does the Good Go?’ by Tegan and Sara. It was featured on ‘Grey’s Anatomy’ when two of the characters say goodbye, and has since been my go to song for these times. I danced it out with one of my bosses a few days ago, and through tears, hugs and laughs, it was really hard to leave this morning.
When it was finally time to board the plane, I sat between two older men, one in business attire, and one in what I would describe as ‘jungle exploring’ attire. The jungle explorer slept most of the way, and I got to converse with the business one for a while. He was from the District, meeting an employee for lunch in Minneapolis, and then heading back afterwards. I had just listened to an NPR story on encouraging people to move to Montana to work remotely.. maybe if this catches on there will be more ‘direct’ flights from lots of places. They were both intrigued by me being from Montana- one told me I had a ‘build like a ranch girl’. I don’t know quite what to think about that, but I suppose it is a compliment of sorts. I have spent a few days on the family ranch.. 😉
As I read the last few pages of my book, Girlboss, we landed in Minneapolis. The businessman wished me well and left, and the jungle explorer remained seated.
I had a few minutes with the jungle explorer, because we both had to put our carry on far behind us. I asked him if he was embarking on an adventure, or if he was just coming home from one, and he responded with a wink and, “I’m pursuing an old adventure.” I don’t know if that means he was about to climb a mountain he never made it up, or an old lover, but either way, good luck, jungle explorer.
When I replay this exchange in my mind, I’m reminded of one of my favorite F. Scott Fitzgerald quotes, (actually two of them, but who’s counting).
So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.
and
“For what it’s worth: it’s never too late or, in my case, too early to be whoever you want to be. There’s no time limit, stop whenever you want. You can change or stay the same, there are no rules to this thing. We can make the best or the worst of it. I hope you make the best of it. And I hope you see things that startle you. I hope you feel things you never felt before. I hope you meet people with a different point of view. I hope you live a life you’re proud of. If you find that you’re not, I hope you have the courage to start all over again.
It’s never too late to pursue an adventure you’ve always dreamt of. Last year I applied for this same internship, I knew it could be a long shot with upwards of a couple hundred applicants, and didn’t get it. In fact, I didn’t even get an interview. Instead, I worked at an assisted living, and had one of the happiest summers of my life- it was incredibly fulfilling to be a part of the reflection that goes on in the end of life.
This year, I applied again, this time kind of on a whim. I didn’t think i had a very good chance, I hadn’t done much to improve my chances. When I learned I had landed the internship, I was so incredibly excited, I knew it would be one amazing summer- but I had no idea that it would be one of the most formative adventures of my lifetime thus far.
This summer has been nothing short of incredible. I’ve flirted with DC, I’ve met people with lots of power in politics and government, like Senate Majority leader, Mitch McConnell; I’ve been around as some landmark pieces of legislation have been passed; been on the Supreme Court steps as, arguably the most formative decision of our generation was announced; jumped into the largest ball pit in America and probably the world; posed for pictures with Asian tourists without knowing on multiple occasions; established myself in a completely new environment without knowing anyone; had tough conversations with people from all walks of life; laughed harder than I’ve ever laughed in my life; made lifelong friendships; and most importantly, of all the things that I’ve learned- I’ve learned to greet each day as an adventure- and to truly live it passionately.
It’s taken me awhile to finish this last post, I think it’s so important to not only just live, but also to reflect on how you’ve lived in order to move forward and gain all you can from an experience. I’ve spent these last few weeks since I’ve been home doing just that, whether backpacking, catching up with old friends, moving to a new city, and spending time with my family. I wouldn’t say I’ve changed, instead I would say that I’ve become a better version of myself. Every single one of my beliefs has been challenged this summer, and it has been incredible for personal growth.
I’m not sure what is left on my agenda for this year, though on my final flight back to Montana, everyone around me was headed to my home state for a vacation. They all asked me for advice, whether they would need bear spray, and how to pronounce ‘Choteau’ and I knew this was where I belonged.
Life is so good.
I’ll leave my blog with one last quote from the American philosopher, Eminem,
Look, if you had, one shot, or one opportunity
To seize everything you ever wanted. In one moment
Would you capture it, or just let it slip?
Today marks my last day in the District for a while, so we went to Mount Vernon for the 10th time this summer. I’m basically an expert. Mount Vernon is George Washington’s plantation, it is incredibly beautiful, but you can tell it is about the end of tourist season, because parts were closed for construction. When the House and Senate are out of session in August, everything pretty much shuts down in the District as far as tourism goes, and the month of August is so hot, no one wants to be there anyways.
As per usual, it was about a thousand degrees, and most everything is outdoors, which was unfortunate. We spent the entire morning and a better part of the afternoon there, exploring and going through the pretty impressive museum. We had lunch at the Mount Vernon Inn, and then headed back to the District.
Mount Vernon is 14 miles from the District, and coincidentally takes a long time to get there via Metro. I of course, had never been there except by tour bus, so we had to do some research. I accidentally got us on the wrong bus home, that lead us an extra hour through the city of Alexandria to the neighborhoods and then eventually to the Metro Station… oops. We napped delightfully all the way there. Our final stop for the day, and our time in the District for a while was the American History Museum. I can now say I’ve seen every facet of the American History Museum, my favorite of all the Smithsonians.
Our final feast in the District was at P F Chang’s, a chain restaurant with family style Asian cuisine.
I’ve been wanting to go to the Newseum all summer, but for whatever reason, I just couldn’t ever seem to get it to work in my schedule. There are few things that I will look back on and wish that I did while I was in the District, the only other thing that I can think of is going to Teddy Roosevelt Island, but I suppose I have a reason to return now.
I decided it was time for more French Toast and lavender hot chocolate, so we went to one of my other favorites, Open City, for another breakfast on the town. I will be sad to return to the land without brunch as a social norm, it exists in Montana, but not quite to the same extent.
The Newseum was incredible, and provided excellent insight on news and journalism from a perspective I had never considered before. It was interesting how much we depend on journalists for what’s going on in the world, and we generally just accept the news at face value, usually forgetting any bias that may be present. I also had no idea the risks that journalists often take to deliver information on hot button issues, risking their lives to deliver the ‘truth’ to the people. My favorite exhibit was one on Pulitzer Prize winning photographs from across the decades, I had seen many of them, but all together they were heavy, often featuring raw human fear or sadness. Some of the most recent winners included citizens jumping from the Twin Towers to plummet to their death during 9/11.
Our favorite exhibit was one on the Vietnam War, it highlighted how the coverage of the war was so influenced by the government. I never realized how regulated journalism was and probably to some extent still is by the government.
We also enjoyed a 4-D movie, with moving chairs, and the fancy glasses that came with.
Afterwards, we jaunted across the street for the National Galleries of Art, which everyone besides Uncle Neal were not cultured in. I had to laugh, as my mom and aunt Jo go to the Monet section and said, “hmm I think we better take a picture here, I think these are pretty famous.” Everyone got excited about the DaVinci, as it is the only DaVinci in the Western Hemisphere. Then, we had to goof around to enhance our experience.
Our evening concluded at the Air and Space Museum, so I of course public napped while they purused. Eventually they will all get the hang of public napping, I just know it.
Our culinary tour continued with Bucca Di Beppo, as I’ve said throughout the summer, I’ve been on an all carb diet. I made that happen again tonight with bread, pasta and tiramisu. We also conjured our waiter into taking (or attempting to take) a selfie with us. He wasn’t the best at selfies with a ‘big’ camera, but we’ll let it slide.
If you understand veterinarian humor, you’ll think this is funny. Forgot your gloves, Dad?
It’s been funny to hear the complaints of adults now and compare them to kids. Perhaps you have to know my parents and aunt and uncle to know how hilarious and sarcastic they are, but I had to laugh.
“It’s not humidity, it’s menopause.”
“There’s nothing worse than bifocals and marble steps.”
“I think everyone in DC needs hearing aids after riding the Metro in DC when they get old.”
Needless to say, I’ve really enjoyed having them here to spend my last few days in the District doing what I do best, touring. I’ve probably walked them too much, Aunt Jo let me know when her FitBit buzzed at 10,000 steps early in the day, unfortunately, there’s no stopping. Though I’m told this is a good stopping point for avid FitBit users. We’re all going to sign up for half walking marathons, are there such a thing?
Our morning started off in Woodley Park at a favorite of mine, Tryst, the one with the lavender hot chocolate. I had some more of their famous granola, and the others also shared granola and a few lemon poppy seed waffles. Part of the tour is also touring all my favorite eateries, which is probably my favorite kind of touring.
Day two Metroing is slightly easier, they’re a little better versed, and are kind of starting to understand, we had our first mishap today where Dad got left on the platform, but he made it alright. After breakfast, we continued the adventure to Arlington National Cemetery, it was extremely hot, and this was where we coined the phrase, “it’s not humidity, it’s menopause.” I can’t wait for my turn on this adventure, probably not as much as my Mom and Aunt do because of how much grief we’ve given the poor gals.
No one fainted at the changing of the guard; they were just dripping in sweat, and hit 10,000 steps rather quickly. We toured the Lee house, saw JFK’s gravesite, and I think they enjoyed this portion of our tour this week, as much as you can enjoy a cemetery.
Dripping in sweat, Neal panting like a dog, and the menopause epidemic of sweat plagued us on the Metro to our next destination, We the Pizza, for lunch. I knew pizza and beer would appease the situation, and it did.
The next part of our adventure was a tour of the Capitol, except the rotunda and statuary hall are closed for reconstruction, so we didn’t get to see much besides the crypt. On a happy note, we did get in and out of security without getting detained for sharp rocks or pepper spray. Uncle Neal of course spent some time chatting it up with one of the docents on the architecture of the building until we were politely asked to leave.
We tried to bolt to the Library of Congress before it closed in less than 2 minutes, and took an unfortunate turn down the tunnel, hearing the doors slam shut just as we were approaching. We missed the threshold by just a few seconds, I was sad not to use my library card just one more time.
As if pizza and beer were not enough, by this point we were ready for cocktails, so we Metroed to the Old Ebbit Grille, the oldest pub in the District. Salute!
The White House is obviously a must see, and right across the street so we walked over to take it all in. Many people’s perception of the White House is that it is much larger than it is, so I love seeing people’s reactions when they realize how reasonably sized it is for everything that goes on there. By that point, we had walked a lot, but we were so close to the memorials that I enticed them into walking a couple extra miles to do a night view of the area. Aunt Jo’s FitBit had already buzzed f or 10,000 steps, about 20,000 steps before- but they did enjoy themselves, a little. Finally we made it back to the Center at 10 pm and crashed into bed.
Flirtations with DC 
