Ice Dozer Ergonomic Ice Scraper.

Dear Jesus, send us summertime.

The dilemma.

In typical me fashion, I have waited too long to update this online basket of mostly-laughter (that is mostly at myself) and quips (mostly ones that only I "get"), and now I have a dilemma. 

The dilemma is with the title.  

This might not seem dilemma-esque to some, but I like titles.  So it is one.

The first potential title, "Brandon hates funny girls." applies to February 6-10.

The second, "Hold on, let my grab my iPhone." applies to February 15-18.

Undoubtedly, both are of the "you had to be there" realm, but I've already typed like three paragraphs, so sorry folks, tonight my flat attempts are what you get.

Rather than do two separate posts on the same day, which is clearly lame, I'll combine two separate posts into one, and then post it on the same day (less lame, if you care).

So, first:

Brandon hates funny girls.

If you know him, you might think otherwise.  But don't be fooled.  Over the five days he and Ryan were in town, I kept throwing out random stories about random girls that all ended with, "she's hilarious -- Brandon, you would love her."  Finally, he confronted me about this.  Confronted is a mild term, really it was just yelling.  "WHY do you keep assuming I like funny girls?!  I HATE funny girls!  Sometimes I leave a date just yelling in my head, TOO FUNNY!!"  This shut me up, kind of.  I was still a little sore from the comments on my lost-ness while driving in DC ("Have you ever heard of a GPS?!"), so the blow to my matchmaking skills was a low one.  For the record, Brandon, my matchmaking finesse has ended up in one very happy marriage where both parties are, believe it or not, funny.

The being lost thing is notable, as far as the weekend went.  It didn't begin well.  I left work early and offered to pick the guys up from Reagan and drop them off at the hotel.  I printed from Google Maps.  I printed from the hotel's website.  But I was in a flurry, and I forgot them on my desk.  

I loaded the guys into Meriweather knowing pretty well that I was likely pretty lost, but I also decided to just attempt it.  Not a good plan.  It led to an hour driving around with a stressed-about-homework-due-Ryan, a supremely-laid-back-Brandon, an encouragingly-action-oriented-Spencer and a nice-yet-logical-Derek.  It all worked out when we pulled into a mini-space museum that both a) let us print directions and, b) let Ryan use their wireless to turn in his homework.  Love ya, DC.

I did set a bad precedent for myself, however, and any time I got behind a wheel for the next four days, we all knew it was a gamble.  Even with the guys driving, when Corie (an Arlington native) and I couldn't even get ourselves out of the neighborhood, you'd think I would seek help.  I laugh when I think about my recent sent texts after that weekend; they mostly involved, "Lost. Be there soon." or "Unbelievably frustrated. Lost."  I haven't been lost since.

In short, it really was a great weekend.  I pegged Ryan's future job, librarian-of-all-librarians, when we visited the library-of-all-libraries downtown.  It was great.  I turned a corner and found him looking winsomely at the gilt-engraved names of all the Librarians of Congress to go before him.  He'll be on that list, make no mistake.  

Side note: When we left the L of C, three eyelet-sheet-toga clad, laurel-wreathed homeschool kids (had to be) marched down the sidewalk toward the Supreme Court.  If you homeschool, please factor in the counseling needed in the future if projects like this are important to you.

It's great to be known, and I think that was the best feeling I walked away with from the several days of lost-ness and late nights and tourism.  Yes, it can be a double-edged sword, because when someone knows you, they know you, and this carries some terrifying trust questions. But then, when someone knows you, they know you, and this carries a breathe-easy sense of relief. 

It was great having Ryan in town.  He knows me.

And now,

"Hold on, let me grab my iPhone."

I have a problem with procrastination.  I always just think if I close my eyes long enough, someone else will make my plans.

Turns out that's not the way it works.  Luckily for me, that's not the way Jenn works either.

But that was my game plan for the NY trip that Jenn and I had been planning for either a month or a year, depending on perspective.  I paid for the procrastination in the form of a hefty Amtrak ticket out of Union Station on Friday night, but it got me to New York as quick as I could have come.  More importantly, it got me to New York in time to go to Mirai's birthday party.

Mirai is one.  Words won't do her dimples justice, so I'll scan my party favor (a picture with a message, "I thank you for coming to my party...Affectionately, Mirai") whenever I see a scanner close by and cite this post.  She's the daughter of one of Jenn's co-worker's, Thomas, and she likes to push chairs around.  According to her mom, Mirai has had spicier food at one than we gringos have had in our whole lives.  If the delicious Indian buffet was an indication (they said it was toned down for the white people), I think she's right.  Lunch was fabulous, as was getting to meet/know Jenn's co-workers at Deutsche Bank.

Before Saturday night, I had never been congratulated by an usher.  And I wouldn't have been if Jenn had followed my idea to "cut our losses and go eat dinner" rather than wait five minutes in the Wicked lottery line.  

We WON.

And we were congratulated from the minute we walked in the door.  When we slid into the front row, it made sense.  When we slid into the perfectly centered seats on the front row, it really made sense.  We just wished we'd had our iPhones to make everyone jealous.

Wish is a key word here.  Jenn and I had been playing it impromptu for awhile before Tracey named and claimed the game while browsing the Met on Sunday afternoon.  It's simple: whenever someone needs some instant bit of cool or useful or extemporaneous information, you say, "Hold on, let me grab my iPhone," and then reach for your scratched-up Samsung that came off the assembly line sometime in 2002, and mutter, "Oh. Wait."  

Like I said, Jenn is a planner, and she really is planning to wait for her iPhone.  She actually has a date picked out.  It's not till December, mind you, so she's still got 9.5 months of salivating over other people's iToys, but she'll convince you she's right.  In the end she'll be buying the new iPhone on the interest from last year's Christmas money (which I probably spent on valet at the mall on Dec. 26th).  It takes all of us to keep this world interesting.

The moral of this story has two parts: a) always bet on the lottery, you'll probably win, and b) if you have an iPhone, let the rest of us hold it every once in awhile, at least till we have our own in 9.5 months.

Williamania.

Crescent King 2006
Runner-up

Zechariah (singing to John)

"And you, my child, will be called a
prophet of the Most High;
for you will go on before the Lord to
prepare the way for Him,
to give His people the knowledge of salvation
through the forgiveness of their sins,
because of the tender mercy of our God,
by which the rising sun will
come to us from heaven
to shine on those living in darkness
and in the shadow of death
to guide our feet into the
path of peace."

Luke 1.76-79

Thank you, Seattle, for addicting us all.

Lunch today:

- Venti skim latte, plus three Sugar in the Raw packets

- Dannon strawberry yogurt

- Chocolate chip cookie

Maybe not the luncheon of champions, but I left my wallet on the 14th floor and all I had in my (frighteningly small) red purse was one of about four Starbucks cards I'm currently running up a tab on. Saved the day, as usual. Although my cookie was probably whipped together in China in 1999, it'll be a tasty treat.

Yes, I'm their target audience.

And yes. They've got me. Hook, line and sinker.

"Oh Abe, he's so honest." - Patrick Connor

Abe is honest. I know, because I spent some quality time with him today, along with 6.3 million tourists, a cute beagle puppy, and a jolly DC-rent-a-cop (we had a lovely banter about DC weather, part of my "Be nicer in general to all people in '08" campaign). I was with Abe, the tourists, the puppy, and the rent-a-cop this afternoon for several reasons:

a) It was the first sunny day in six (at least); the Mall had this magnetic pull
b) Parking was easy, it involved no U-turns or cash exchange or too-difficult paralleling
c) The wall out front was the perfect place with an hour of long-distance with SJ
d) I needed to unlax
e) I knew there would be less power suited people around; still some, just less
f) The Lincoln is like my ultimate grassy knoll - just sit in the proximity and I'm sure to be thinking deeply, pondering my purpose in life and people-watching like nobody's business

Now, responding to each reason:

a) Mischelle Dean warned me that this would be the biggest adjustment. I beg to differ. The freaking pantyhose are undoubtedly the biggest adjustment. The weather is notably rough, though - when you're inside for all of the daylight hours anyway and then you realize that the only glow around is tungsten-related and the skylights are even grey, wowzers. When I woke up and saw some rays through my blinds, I realized how much I've missed it.

b) This is contrary to virtually all other parking experiences anywhere in and around the DC metro area. Our three hours in a Georgetown garage this afternoon led to an $18 ticket, to which one of my car guests exclaimed, "Man, these garage people are banking. I want to quit work and open a garage!" Oh dear. Parallel parking Meriweather is no cake, either. I have ended up on a curb more than once, and have countless times just gone home rather than deal with the issue.

*Another non-parking, but notable driving experience involved aiming headlong down a one-way, going, um, the wrong way. Terrifying but true thing is that I didn't even notice for at least a block. I heard someone comment that "roads were an afterthought" in this city. When driving in general is an afterthought already, it become a bad combo.

c) I started out there because it was the least-populated spot, and it did not appear that the jolly rent-a-cop would be kicking me out for being so chatty on my phone. As the sun set, I ended up moving down the wall till I was in perfect position to be stared at by a group of about 20 suited high school boys. One wore teal pants and a bow tie and I almost befriended him too (I don't want to go overboard and jinx my niceness initiative altogether

d) Georgetown was busy, work was long, it was a great escape.

e) The power suits usually stay in the office on the weekends, or, if out, are wearing the following: extremely outdoorsy gear to prove that they're green and they have a life, too-tight pants, or if they are a former congressman, an odd shade of plain turtleneck with a flag lapel pin. This is true. Luckily, one guy (a tourist I hope, for his sake) came out dressed in his finest long, straight leather jacket.

f) It's just true.

More on the in's/out's of life in the Power Suit capital of the universe to be posted pronto.