I have nothing bad to say about this day.  Saturday treated me right.  The sky was blue and the sun was shining and I spent the whole day in sweatpants.  Does it get any better than that?  The mister had a few places he wanted to go and I told him to run free.  I had no desire to leave the homestead today.  He was so excited about going out unchaperoned that he even offered to do the grocery shopping.  I whipped out a list and promised to keep my phone handy.  While he was gone Huck and I played soccer with tennis balls (he cheats), visited the hens and gave them a little extra cracked corn, and eventually went inside and started a Saturday treat for Mickey.  Since he’s so crazy about soft pretzels, I figured I’d make a batch right here at home.  They were pretty darn easy.  A little warm water and yeast and you’re on your way!  Here’s the recipe I used:

http://www.tasteofhome.com/recipes/Chewy-Soft-Pretzels?pmcode=ILLDV02T&_mid=2319917&_rid=2319917.558202.332286

From a blob of dough..

to a dozen puffy twists…

then into a pot of boiling water and on to the oven.  It didn’t take long at all.

Next time I’ll know to roll them a bit thinner before twisting, but all in all they turned out just fine. Mickey gave them two thumbs up.  I sprinkled six with kosher salt and six with cinnamon sugar.  These would be great for a Super Bowl snack…if I  planned to watch it or if I ever hosted Super Bowl parties.  Yeah, we’ll just call it a Saturday treat.

Speaking of treats, my husband is determined to drag me into 2012 so went foraging in his tech closet (it doesn’t go to Narnia, it goes to Best Buy) and found a new phone for me.   I think he may have been embarrassed by me pulling out my old hand cranked model in public, and by the fact that it takes me forever to punch out a text message without a keyboard.  I’ve been dragging my feet because I really like my old phone and I finally know what all of the functions are for.  That’s a lie. I know. like…six things.  Anyway, check out my cool new phone!

It’s Mickey’s old Blackberry.  His company provided him with a newer, spiffier model with jet packs and an invisibility app (I’m lying again) so I inherited this one.  I’ve been playing with it and trying to figure things out and I have to admit that I like it.  My ring tone is Mama Mia, and I sent my first text message to Matt.  It looked like this - “Ri have a new phonem.”  Bless his heart, he responded “Oh yeah? What kind?”  So I looked at Mickey and asked “What kind of phone is this?”  Baby steps.  I asked Mickey what makes this phone a “smart” phone and he explained in detail the many perks that I’ll probably never use.  Although I did like the Amazon app that will let me scan a bar code in Books a Million and see the price at Amazon. Smart move, Amazon.  That’s not new to anyone else but it’s new to me, so let me enjoy it.  Sadly a smart phone does not mean a smart user and although Mickey is doing his very best to make me more tech savvy, I yam what I yam.  Here’s proof.

That’s right.  I’m one of those goofballs.  I find talking on cell phones a mixture of annoying and uncomfortable, so Mickey gave me that handy dandy handset.  I love it.  Love it.  I feel very Agent 99 when I use it.  Now if I can just find a cell phone with a rotary dial…..

Okay, poor attempt at a joke.  Oven, lovin’…to me they’re the same thing.  I was as happy as a bird with a french fry today because I spent a good deal of my time in the kitchen.  I’m back in my groove and life is good.  The morning was spent doing the regular chores, a bit of laundry, a visit to the hen house, a half hour spent throwing tennis balls for the hound, cleaning his muddy prints off the floor when we came in, and so on.  But the afternoon was all about the cookin’!

First I made a big pot of spinach-tomato-orzo-sausage soup.  I’ve shared the recipe here before, and it’s so simple I can make it from memory.  In no time at all, this…

turns into this.

You’ll need:

1 lb turkey Italian sausage

1 medium onion, chopped

2 cloves garlic, chopped

1 lb spinach, fresh or frozen, defrosted ( I use fresh)

1 – 15 oz can diced Italian tomatoes,with oregano and basil (if you love ‘em use more!)

1 cup package orzo pasta (again, if you love it, use more!)

1 quarts chicken stock (1 box)

1 quarts water (just refill that box with water and dump it in)

olive oil

Grab a big soup pot and drizzle it with olive oil and toss in your onions and the turkey sausage.  Give it a few stirs and when the onion is tender and the turkey doesn’t look pink, toss in that garlic. Saute for another 2 – 3 minutes. Add tomatoes, spinach, chicken stock and water.Bring to a boil and then reduce heat to medium.  Now is a good time to take a taste and decide if you want to add a pinch of salt.  Your call. Throw in the orzo and cook for 12-15 minutes, until orzo is tender.  Ta-da!  Done!    Couldn’t be easier.

While that bubbled I got busy with some chocolatey oatmeal bars.  I’d never tried this recipe before but it sure looked good.  Into the mixer went butter, brown sugar, vanilla, eggs, oatmeal, flour, and baking soda…

and into a saucepan went chocolate chips, sweetened condensed milk, and vanilla.  Do your teeth hurt yet?

Most of the oatmeal mixture gets patted into a pan, covered with the chocolate mixture and then that is covered with more blobs of oatmeal.  It comes out of the oven golden and smelling like heaven.

This is what it looks like when it’s cut before it cools…Mickey couldn’t wait.

Here’s the recipe:  http://www.food.com/recipe/copycat-of-starbucks-oatmeal-fudge-bars-466134

Mickey really liked his bar, but they’re a bit too sweet for me.  Verrrry rich.

I took a break, cleaned up the kitchen, and called my mom.  We talked about everything under the sun and then she had to get ready for a hot date with my dad.  They have a few favorite restaurants that they like to keep afloat, and I think it’s quite patriotic of them to boost the economy the way they do.  Quite frankly, after more than a half century of daily cooking I love the fact that she’s not doing dishes tonight.  We all know that it’s not the cooking, it’s the washing that drags you down.  After a chat with Mom, I took the hound out and admired the sky.

Good gravy, what a lovely night!  Boxcar Willie stopped by for his third snack of the day (that cat eats better than most people) and the hens gossiped in Coop de Ville.  Moments like this are a balm to my soul.  This is what makes me happy.  Peace and quiet, good smells in the kitchen, and some happy furred and feathered folks going about their business.  I could do this the rest of my days.  I hope I do.

I heard Mickey trying to wrap up his last call of the day so I rounded up the dog and went back to the kitchen.  Dinner was a simple affair of chicken tacos, but simple can still be pretty.  Look at this colorful relish for topping the tacos.

Purple onion, black beans, tomatoes, corn, avocado…I love colorful food!  We used this on our tacos tonight and you can bet that I’ll be adding a couple more tomatoes to the mix and eating it on tortilla chips tomorrow.  I get excited about pretty food.  Have I mentioned that I lead a simple life?  A good avocado can send me into a tizzy.  

After dinner I sat down to browse Amazon and fill my cart.  I traded some books back this week and had a nice $40 credit.  Have you tried their trade-in service?  It’s wonderful.  You enter the title of the book you’re willing to trade, the price pops up & you click whether or not you want to submit it…then when you’ve entered all of the books you care to trade, you simply print a shipping label on Amazon’s dime, and send your books in!  Within a couple of days your books are processed and the amount is credited to you account.  Tonight I spent my credit and in no time at all there should be a box of murder, romance, and beauty at my door.  I can’t wait!  I drool over books like some women do shoes or jewelry.  If someone would just pay me to read for the rest of my life I could die happy.  Who am I kidding? As long as I have a kitchen and some animals I’ll die happy.  Let’s face it, I’ve just got a terminal case of the happies.  I suppose that’s because I’m so stinkin’ grateful for this life.  We’re not rich, or famous, or even all that good looking - but man, we’ve got love and laughter enough to fill ten houses.  We have a safe, warm home and a full pantry.  Our sons are making their way in the world and doing good things.  Our dog isn’t all that smart, but he’s sweet.  See what I mean?  We’re living a beautiful life.  I apologize for rambling my way from recipes to books only to finish in a frenzy of gratitude…..it must be bedtime. …or PMS.  I’m just feeling thankful today.  I remembered reading a quote once that said “Gratitude turns what we have into enough.”  So I looked it up and found the whole thing : 

“Gratitude unlocks the fullness of life. It turns what we have into enough, and more. It turns denial into acceptance, chaos to order, confusion to clarity. It can turn a meal into a feast, a house into a home, a stranger into a friend. Gratitude makes sense of our past, brings peace for today, and creates a vision for tomorrow.” ~ Melody Beattie

Isn’t it true?  A meal into a feast, a house into a home, a stranger into a friend….all by simply being grateful.  Okay, I really will stop now before I break into song or  make someone sick.   I’ll just be sitting over here thanking my lucky stars for this lovely day.  Nothing fancy, nothing special, just a beautifully ordinary day.  

Sweet dreams, dear ones.

There’s some information that’s been rattling around in my brain and I’m simply not going to be satisfied until I check it out for myself.  It’s going to involve a road trip to Amish country and some uncomfortable staring, but it has to happen.  You see, the other night when my friend and I were at The Art Mill painting roosters we started talking to the other women in attendance.  You know how women are, we gab.  One topic lead to another and another and before I knew it we were talking about a mystical Amish man in Kentucky.  Seems that one lady painter was worried because her mother kept taking trips to Kentucky to see “Reuben” who could gaze into her eyes and diagnose her health issues.  He’d provide advice and also any herbs he thought might help.  The painter lady thought her mother was being scammed and told her so.  Her mother revealed that Reuben doesn’t charge for his services.  Huh?  So painter lady and her sister thought they’d just go see Reuben for themselves and expose him as a fraud, even though their mother was happy, not losing any money, and healthier than she’d ever been.  They still thought he was a witch doctor.  Off to Kentucky they went.  Since Reuben is Amish and doesn’t use telephones or computers, you have to write to him for an appointment.  He’ll still see you as a walk-in, but you may have quite a wait.  Painter lady and her sister were able to see him and to make a long story short, they were amazed when Reuben looked into their eyes and correctly diagnosed a heart condition that Painter Lady already knew she had and told the other that she had an ovarian cyst (which turned out to be true as well).  By this point in her story I was all ears.  I love stuff like this.  She stated that Reuben never tells anyone not to follow their doctor’s orders, but does provide common sense advice pertaining to nutrition and herbal supplements.  This was when she stopped and in her soft, southern voice reminded us that Reuben isn’t a real doctor…to which I responded that I’d certainly draw the line at a pelvic exam, but I wouldn’t mind him gazing into my eyes.  My joke fell flat.  Southern women just don’t get me.  Apparently pelvic exams are not a joking matter.  Anyway - shortly after I returned home with this information bubbling in my brain, Matt called.   Matt is a lot like me when it comes to stuff like this…his first response is usually, “Want to try it?”  As I excitedly spilled out everything I’d learned, Matt said “I have his address.”  Seems that as I gushed about the Amish eye looker Matt had googled him.  If you search for “Ruben the Amish doctor” you’ll find stuff.  He practices Iridology which is an ancient science/alternative medicine in which the practitioners believe that the iris of the eye can reveal health issues.  The eye is divided into sections (much like those hand and foot charts you’ve seen) and different areas represent different organs and issues.  A black spot means one thing, a yellowing means another, white marks are something else…and Reuben Schwartz is supposedly the master of this art.  Now I’ll go on record as saying that I believe in very little.  I’m very skeptical unless you’re talking about garden fairies, witches, the healing power of chocolate, and the love of my husband.  I know those are real.  Probably ghosts, too.  But I’ve rolled my eyes at many a doctor, teacher, preacher, and politician who claimed to know it all.  None of us know it all, the world is a great, big, mysterious place and a closed mind is a terrible thing.  Besides, I like to be spooked a little bit.  You can miss out on a lot of fascinating knowledge if you live in denial of things you don’t understand.  You can also miss out on a road trip to Kentucky to let an Amish guy stare into your eyes and tell you what ails ya’.   Why on Earth would I want to miss that?  Taking a peek at the calendar, I’m thinking a weekend in March would be just perfect.  I’ve already mentioned it to the mister who is used to my hare-brained ideas. He bought a ticket for this crazy train back in ‘84.  I could see his wheels turning and pinpointed the moment when he realized that he could probably take some nice photographs up in Amish country.  It’s just two hours away and is probably a lovely drive.  It might all be worth it just to jot down “Reuben the Amish doctor” as my primary care physician.     

What a fun night!  My friend, Anita Martini (names have been changed to protect the innocent), had a great idea and I’m so glad she included me.  I’ll make this brief (did you just roll your eyes?) because it’s late and I’m tired - but I’m feeling guilty because Anita suggested that I have neglected this blog.  Anyway, her great idea was a visit to a spot called The Art Mill.  It’s just off the square in Lebanon, so only about a dozen miles from my front door, and they have paint there.  Paint and canvas and brushes and ideas!  You show up and hand over your money and they provide everything from the materials to the instruction.  They post their calendar online with samples of pictures on each day, so you simply choose the one you want to paint and show up on that day.  No surprise at all that it’s usually groups of women gathering to do this, but they also do art day camps for kids and all sorts of other things.  Leesa…er…Anita didn’t have to ask twice if I wanted to give it a whirl.  We decided to attend tonight’s session from 7-9pm.

I fed the mister a good dinner and bid the man and the hound adieu.  It’s a long, dark drive down 840 before you reach civilization and it made me think of a television show we’ve been watching  a lot of lately.  Have you seen “Finding Bigfoot” ?  It’s hilarious.  I may have previously touched on Mickey’s fear of the Skunk Ape, so this reality show/ongoing documentary about a group of experts who are determined to find a Sasquatch seemed a good fit for us.  If by us you mean me.  They respond to sightings, travel coast to coast, use new-fangled equipment, and always just miss Bigfoot.  But it’s their conversations that keep us entertained.  Apparently their research has determined that Bigfoot is nocturnal (??) although all of the sightings have happened during daylight hours.  So a great deal of the show is the crew deep in the woods at night looking at each other in alarm and asking, “Did you hear that?”  Even better the exchanges almost always go like this:

Guy: Did you see something?

Other Guy: No.

Guy:  Yeah, that’s typical ‘Squatch behavior - they hide.

later…

Guy: Did you hear something?

Other Guy: No.

Guy:  Yeah, me either. Had to be a ‘Squatch, they’re quiet.

So when they don’t see or hear anything, they’re convinced that they have cornered the elusive Sasquatch.  I find that logic utterly delightful.  It’s become quite useful in our house.  ”Did you hear something?  No?  Must have been a ‘Squatch.”    It’s pretty much become the response to anything we miss…anything we don’t see or hear…must have been a “Squatch.  And did I mention that there’s a guy on the team named Bobo?  I’m not saying that a historic discovery couldn’t be made by a guy named Bobo, just that it’s unlikely.  

Anyway…driving to Lebanon made me think of that show.

Plus, I didn’t see or hear anything…I was probably surrounded by ‘Squatch.  ’Squatches? Squatchi?

I pulled into The Art Mill in one piece and went inside.  Easels, paint, and COLOR everywhere…all signs pointed toward fun!

 The gal giving the lesson took my money, handed me a canvas, and provided paint and brushes.  Then we got busy.  My pal and I chatted and painted and chatted and painted until we finally admitted that we should probably stop painting.  I wish I’d taken a picture of her finished product because it was awesome!  She’s very artistic and I was tempted to do the old “Hey look over there!” switcheroo but I like her too much.  And mine was okay.  Not my best work, but it’s been proven on many occasions that I can’t talk and create at the same time.  I still had fun!  It’s definitely something I’d do again.

At nine o’clock I hopped in the car and called Mickey to let him know that I was heading through ‘Squatch country and would be home soon.  And away I went.

I was relieved to finally see the bright lights of Gladeville which meant I was nearly home!

I made it home without hitting a Bigfoot, only to find Mickey holed up in his office still working on problems.   I felt a little guilty that I’d been out painting while he worked.  So I served him an extra helping of peach cobbler and told him that he could have my masterpiece for his office.  He only wanted the cobbler.  Looks like it may go in the laundry room, although I’m seriously considering redecorating Coop de Ville and hanging it out there for the hens to enjoy.  

I think they deserve a pin-up boy to moon over.  This fella and some fresh paint on the nest boxes would really perk things up in there.  Who knows, it might keep raccoons away too.  Worth a try!

And that, my friends, is the end of this terrific Tuesday.  A day filled with sunshine and warm weather and an evening spent painting with a friend.  It doesn’t get a whole lot better.  I’m off to dream sweet dreams - hope that yours are too.

All I’ll say about our trip home yesterday is that we were due.  Okay, you know that’s not really all I’ll say.  What I mean is that things usually go so smoothly that sooner or later we were bound to run into a day with some hiccups in it.  We went to bed on Friday night under a winter weather advisory.  Late that evening it started to snow and this was what it looked like outside our window when we finally turned in. So pretty.

We figured that if we experienced any delays in our travels it would be due to D.C. weather. Wrong.  We woke up Saturday morning with not much more snow than the previous night and a flight status showing an on time departure.  We dressed, had a quick breakfast, and slogged through the slush with our baggage to the Metro station.  Yuck.  We had previously seen a notice advising customers that the Metro would be doing track work on Saturday and that trains would be single tracking - therefor your trips might take a few minutes longer.  Usually there’s a train along every few minutes, they were estimating twenty minutes between trains that morning.  No biggie, but we figured we’d get an early start just in case - which is why we left the hotel at 9:00.  Our train arrived right on time and we hopped on and settled in for the quick ride to Ronald Reagan International.  Let me mention here that in all of our previous sojourns on the Metro, the doors slide open and allow time for passengers to depart and then new passengers to board.  Plenty of time. Now, I don’t know if they were rushing things due to the single tracking schedule or if our doors malfunctioned but something went wrong.  We glided into the airport stop and the doors opened, two people walked out ahead of me and I as I walked through the door rolling my suitcase behind me, I felt my bag jerk to a stop.  Thinking my wheels had caught on something I looked back to see the back half of my bag and the top half of Mickey’s body jammed in the closing doors.  Mickey was trying to pry the doors open and they weren’t giving an inch.  I gave my bag a mighty tug and the handle came off right in my hands.  That train wasn’t giving up its prey.  I’m assuming that the driver must have had a “door ajar” light or warning because suddenly the doors released and Mickey nearly fell out with his bag.  I was still staring at the handle of my suitcase in my left palm.  I stuffed it in the pocket of my jacket and pulled my bag by the little handle on top.  I was ready to hand it over and let Delta worry about it.  We checked in and were advised that our departure had been backed up by fifteen minutes.  No biggie.  Fifteen minutes would still give us plenty of time to make our connection in Atlanta.  We headed for security where I admit that I take pride in breezing through.  I wear slip on shoes, no jewelry except for my wedding ring, have one carefully packed, lightweight carry-on that my purse fits inside which slides right beneath the aircraft seat - oh yeah, I’ve got it down to a science.  We can get through screening in seconds.  We reached security where I was baffled that they sent my jacket back through the x-ray and studied it.  It was that stinking suitcase handle in my pocket.  I suppose it’s possible that I could try to knock the flight crew in their heads with that handle and demand they turn the plane toward Bermuda, but it’s unlikely.  Again, no biggie.  We arrived at our gate and checked the time.  It was 9:45…our flight left at noon.  Good thing we got an early start.  Oh well, better to have too much time than not enough, right?  I settled in with a book and Mickey with his gadgets.  We also passed the time by chatting and playing word games on Mickey’s phone.  Around 11am we decided to grab a quick snack since we might have to skip lunch due to a tight connection and they sure as heck don’t offer much on flights anymore.  We split a hot pretzel and a Diet Coke and soon started hearing rumblings about our flight starting to board.  Delays tend to creep a bit and this one did, but we were on the plane and in our seats by about 12:30.  Yippee!  That was when the captain announced that due to severe storms in Atlanta (our destination) we were on a ground hold.  So we sat on the ramp in our seats for two hours.  More books, gadgets, and word games.   Mickey called Delta and got us covered on a later flight out of Atlanta as we watched our connection time expire.  Once again, no biggie - all was well and we finally received clearance to take off.  Smooth flight, no complaints, we landed in Georgia with a good forty minutes to make our connection and for once our gates were on the same concourse. Hallelujah!  We checked in at Gate 22 for our new boarding passes and the agent was all smiles.  Big sigh. We’re homeward bound.  Then they posted a delay for our flight.  Just fifteen minutes….but I’ve heard that line before.  We boarded about an hour late, buckled in and waited….and waited…and waited…eventually a Delta employee announced that we were waiting for someone who could actually fly the plane.  Seems we had no crew, but an inbound flight with available pilots on it was due to arrive any minute.  So we waited…and waited…and waited. I don’t know how long we waited but I will say that when pilots finally arrived there was applause from the hundred plus people on the plane.  When I watched the agent prepare to pull the jetway back from the plane I heaved a sigh, we were finally going to head home!  That’s when a late boarding passenger made a dash for the door and fell flat on his face.  I felt his pain.  I’ve taken a digger at the Atlanta airport and had the skinned knees to prove it.  But this guy didn’t get up.  Rut-roh.  Soon there was a page “If we have any medical personnel onboard, please come to the forward cabin…”  Alright, I can’t be angry at an injured person for delaying us further, but come on - walk it off, buddy!  I don’t know what happened, I can only assume the gentleman was taken off the plane though I never saw EMTs or a stretcher or anything.  I hope he’s okay.  He must have left on his own steam, because he didn’t deplane in Nashville.  Our flight was quick but soothing, due to the treat of watching a beautiful sunset from above the clouds.

Once we touched down at good ol’ Berry Field things went smoothly.  Mickey ran for the car while I waited for our bags.  Ours were the first two out so I grabbed them and headed for the curb.

 Mickey showed up minutes later and we loaded up and headed home.  What a great feeling after a long day.  As we pulled out of the airport we phoned in dinner order at Fulin’s and picked it up on our way to Olivia Court.  In no time at all we were home and in our sweats, enjoying Chinese food since that pretzel from D.C. was just a distant memory.  As far as I’m concerned the happy ending makes up for the rocky road home.

 Today was spent restocking the pantry, picking up the dawg, doing a bit of laundry, and cooking up a pot of Grandma’s Stew.  Ahhh, once I was back in my kitchen any tension from yesterday melted away.  Now we’re waiting for both the next episode of Downton Abbey and some thunderstorms that are headed our way. A perfect Sunday evening.  Home sweet home.  There’s no place like it.

Tony Bennett may have left his heart in San Francisco, but I’ve left at least three toes in D.C.  You guessed it, we covered more of the city today.  We’ve been here several times, so we’ve got a plethora of pictures of each monument by sunlight and moonlight, we can probably give guided tours of the major museums, and we’ve become jaded Metro riders.  Today we decided to roam a couple of spots that we haven’t given much (or any) time in the past.  One was Union Station, just because we’ve never seen it and we’re both suckers for beautiful, old buildings.  This gorgeous, white granite hub opened in 1907 and imagine the stories it could tell.  By 1937 as many as 42,000 passengers a day passed through.  Eleanor Roosevelt  and Mrs. Woodrow Wilson worked in the Soldier’s Canteen here, a canteen that by 1946 had served an average of 3 million customers every year since its opening in December 1941. It was open 24 hours a day and operated with a five-cent top price on every food item it sold, including soup, milk, sandwiches, ice cream and soft drinks.  This station was where the train carrying FDR’s casket arrived, as well as Eisenhower’s inaugural train, and so much more!  I’ll just bet that there are ghosts here.  Soldiers, lovers, probably even some train conductors.

The whole building is just beautiful.  I wonder if there’s a book of Union Station stories?  There should be!

From Union Station we hopped on (of all things)  a train to Federal Triangle and the old Post Office.  It was built in 1892 and is just lovely inside.

Also, a homeless guy named Mike told us that if we could get to the top of that bell tower we’d be able to see the snipers on the roof of the White House and the Capitol.   So up we went

On the 9th floor we stopped to admire “the official bells of Congress”.  Who knew?  They’re replicas of the bells at Westminster Abbey and were a gift from England.  

The Washington Ringing Society sounds the bells on Thursday evenings and for special occasions (important funerals,etc).   A full peal, which is a continuous performance that takes up to three and a half hours to complete, is rung in honor of the opening and closing of Congress and on state occasions, including all national holidays.  The bells are in the key of D major.  I’m praying that some of this information comes up on Jeopardy because it’s locked in now.

We made it to the 12th floor also known as the tower and ohmystars, the view!  It didn’t matter that it was approximately 50 below zero up there with hurricane force winds (exaggerate? who me?) because I felt like king of the world!

This photo courtesy of Mickey Pullen

There’s the White House, where I definitely could not make out the snipers . Those blue blobs are tents of the Occupy folks.  One word - brrr!

This photo also courtesy of Mickey Pullen

And there’s the U.S. Capitol and a relatively traffic-free, tree lined street.  Neat as a pin.  I like that.

Since we were suffering from sniper disappointment  we did the only sensible thing and decided to clear our palates with a visit to another sort of mall. We hopped on a train and in a few quick minutes arrived at the Pentagon City stop which has a four story shopping mall.  We grabbed a quick lunch and browsed.  It was a nice way to let days of information overload settle in our brains.  We wasted some time there and eventually caught the Metro back to our hotel where we decided to put our feet up (okay, my feet) until we were hungry enough to seek dinner.  I figured that would be quite a while since we’d stopped at a bakery to pick up a couple of tempting pastries.  There’s something tempting on every corner, there’s also history on every corner.  Just a block from our hotel you’ll find an old building with this plaque on it.

Holy smokes! The Mary Surratt boarding house!  Wasn’t there a movie made recently that  told her story?  She was convicted of being a co-conspirator and sent to the gallows.  Eep!  Of course, if you walk quickly down the street you’d miss this.  Here’s the building now.

That’s the plaque to the left of the door.

Now it’s a restaurant named Wok ‘n Roll.  I’d like to call and ask for  moo goo gai pan with a side order of Civil War ghosts.  Bet they have both!

Alas, it will have to wait for another visit.  It’s time for this gal to pack her bag and get ready to go home.  There’s the tiny issue of the winter weather advisory we’ve been placed under and the forecast promising a coating of ice and snow, but we’re counting on the experts being wrong and our flight getting out right on time.  My next post should be from home sweet home!  Until then - sweet dreams.

Today’s schedule: Law Enforcement Memorial, then a quick hop two blocks over to their shop to buy t-shirts for Mickey (it’s a tradition)…

Then it was on and off trains to get to the Mall where we spent a bit more time at the National Gallery…

I needed a little more quality time with my home boys - Wyeth, Homer, Vermeer, Pissarro, Manet, and the gang.  

Yep, thaaaaat’s my husband on the floor taking a picture.  Minutes before that he was squatting behind a bench taking shots of a waterfall.  I usually just keep walking.  This time I made  him buy me a muffin at the cafe. Then we went through the tunnel to look at a collection of contemporary art.  I fell in love with this one..

The canvas was about 8 feet tall by 6 feet wide - quite large.  It’s titled “Fanny” and was created by an artist named Chuck Close.  He uses an inkpad and his own fingerprints to produce pieces like this.  If you looked closely you could see each fingerprint, but step away and it’s just a fantastic portrait.  I admired Fanny for quite a while and then…

…it was on to the National Archives.

If you want it, they’ve got it.  They’re America’s record keepers. Historic documents of all sorts, census records, patents, historic photographs, presidential speeches, military records, business conducted by the federal government,  anything you can think of to research your genealogy, court cases, and so much more.  The depth if information here boggles the mind. I would have loved to pull up a chair and spend a few days there.  

From there we hiked up to the Capitol building.  I think we spent more time there today than the average congressman. No pictures, I was too busy trying to chug up the hill. My ankles are screaming from all the miles we’ve put in lately and I’ve been using my Oregon Trail daydreams a lot this week.  ”If I can just make it another mile, we’ll reach the promised land…”  Anyway, we took the tour, up and down and all over. Just shoot me.   We popped into the new Visitor’s Center (well, new to us) and then took the underground tunnel (sounds creepy but it’s pretty and well lit) to….  

The Library of Congress.  Easily the prettiest building in the city and the only one where they search you on your way out instead of on the way in.  According to the information I have handy, it’s “the world’s largest collection of knowledge, culture, and creativity”.  I agree, and my opinion is based solely on the art and the quotes carved into the walls.  My brochure tells me that “The Library of Congress is the nation’s oldest federal cultural institution and serves as the research arm of Congress. It is also the largest library in the world, with millions of books, recordings,photographs, maps, and manuscripts.”    It’s still the prettiest.   

Ohmyword, look at the reading room!  Here you’ll see the hardest working folks in Congress - aides and assistants sitting at desks doing the research that makes their bosses look good.

Mickey has much, much better photos than I do - I’m sure he’ll post them on his SmugMug site (http://mickeypix.smugmug.com/) tonight.

After staying at the Library of Congress ‘til closing time we decided to head back to our hotel.  Mickey walked and I limped to the nearest Metro station and after a five minute jaunt we emerged a half block from our hotel.  Hallelujah Jesus!  The end was in sight!  My husband, being a man who picks up on subtle behavior like dirty looks and cursing, suggested ordering Chinese food for dinner and eating in our jammies.  That’s why I married him.  He has keen self-preservation instincts.  

I buried my pain in a heaping plate of broccoli and chicken and then took a hot bath.  As God is my witness my next vacation will be a cruise.  

Tomorrow is our last day and I’m sure I’ll wake up with my sunny disposition restored, ready to conquer more of D.C.  Assuming my feet don’t rot off in the middle of the night.  I do love this city (admittedly, I love it more when things are blooming) and it never disappoints, but I may need a spa day when this is over.

I’ll end this sniveling, sorry post with something nice - because there’s always something nice to appreciate.  Our window faces a beautiful old church and I have enjoyed so much hearing the chimes and bells on the hour and half hour.  It’s just beautiful.

Although I confess to hearing the sounds after a particularly long day and saying to Mickey, “Do not ask for whom the bell tolls…..”  But he ain’t skeered.

I failed to update last night,mostly because it was all I could do to drag my exhausted carcass to the room and into bed.  Okay, it’s not that bad.  Let’s just say that we may be reaching that point in our lives where a vacation spent lounging poolside seems very appealing.  We crammed a lot into our day yesterday with the last couple of hours spent at the Pentagon.  We’d booked a tour and also planned to visit the 9-11 memorial there.  I’m getting tired of going places where no photography is allowed.  Numerous musuems , the White House, Pentagon,etc….oh sure, priceless pieces of art and government secrets need to be protected, but it sure does spoil my fun.  Speaking of fun, don’t try to have any with the security folks at the Pentagon. They don’t care to chat.  Your most dazzling smile is wasted on them.  It was creepy/impressive that they knew who we were when we walked up to the first guard gate.  We got off the Metro, strolled down the sidewalk following the signs that directed us to the visitor’s section for the Pentagon and when we entered the security building a guard asked, “Mr. and Mrs. Pullen?”  Gee, they know what they’re doing around there.  We weren’t the only folks taking a tour, perhaps we looked like the only yeehaws from Tennessee.  The honor guards that provided our tour were wonderful - two young men, one army and one navy, each looked about as old as my shoes.  Their duties include tours at the Pentagon, funeral services at Arlington, state functions, and so on.  They knew their stuff, too.

Oops - sorry for the abrupt stop.  The mister is putting his coat on and giving me the look.  Time to go put some mileage on my shoes and see what’s shaking in D.C. today.  More later!!

This Tuesday will go in my book of days as an exceptionally good one.  We played tourist all day and it’s something that we’re good at…at which we’re good.  Okay, we enjoy it.  First, a  tour of the White House never disappoints.  To be able to stroll the same hallways, run your fingers along the same window sills, and take in the same views that so many presidents and first ladies have - well, it’s no small thing.  To imagine conversations that took place and the decisions that have been made within those historic walls, it’s dumbfounding to me.  Construction began in 1792 and the first occupants were John Adams and his wife, Abigail.  A few things have happened between now and then.  If you’re planning a visit to D.C. I highly recommend emailing your representative well in advance and securing a tour.  Unfortunately (and obviously) there’s no photography allowed on the tour.  And before you blame President Obama for that, the rules were the same when we toured the Bush White House.  Just standard security.  

From there we walked to the Holocaust Museum.  We’ve been to this wonderful city several times and never been - my fault, I just didn’t know if my heart could stand it.  I’ve read too much and watched too many documentaries to doubt the impact of what I’d see there.  I wasn’t wrong.  It’s powerful.  Very, very powerful - but also necessary. I don’t regret going. The most humbling moment was learning that there are Holocaust survivors volunteering at the museum every day just to make sure that what happened is never forgotten. They’re willing to share their stories so that the world knows what happened.  I watched a tiny, white-haired woman stretch her arm out to hand information to a visitor, and there was a number tattooed on her left arm.  Tears streamed down my face as I thought of what she saw, endured, lost….you walk away from the museum a different person than the one that entered.  We all know the general information, the history we’ve been taught, but to see the interviews and footage of people who were there is entirely different.  To see the piles of shoes, the eyeglasses, the diaries that abruptly stop, and in the center of the museum the the three-floor high Tower of Faces was nothing short of heartbreaking.  The Tower of Faces is a collection of 1,500 photographs of the Jews of the Lithuanian town of Eishyshok.  It was a thriving Jewish town for over 900 years. Only 29 of the town’s 3,500 Jews survived the Holocaust. The photographs provide powerful proof of the beautiful lives snuffed out by the Nazis - couples posing proudly with a new baby, school children in a class photo, wedding pictures, musicians, scholars, physicians, smiling families around a birthday cake…in other words, normal, happy people leading normal, happy lives who were executed for no reason.  On survivor spoke of crying when a ten year old boy tearfully asked him “What is a Jew?  Why do they hate me? Why did they kill my parents?”  There’s no answer for that.    I’m not doing an adequate job of portraying the power of this museum.  I don’t have the words to make you feel what I felt.  We were there for four hours, and neither of us were aware of the passage of time. The museum walks you from the first rumblings to the liberation of the death camps.  It was awful, terrifying, and humbling.  I can’t believe there was ever a world that allowed it to happen.    Another survivor interviews stated that she raised her children to always operate from a place of love and never hate, to fight against all forms of persecution - because she wanted them to live in a world where nothing like the Holocaust could ever happen again.  Can you imagine how survivors who came to the U.S. must have felt when they arrived and saw signs on bathrooms and water fountains stating “Whites Only”?  That’s exactly how things started in Germany. Again, there aren’t words - you must go.

Sorry for the rant, the experience was big.  When we exited into the sunshine and cool air it took a bit to adjust to real life.  But on we went.  This beautiful city offers something at every turn…

Look, even the IRS building is pretty!  Your tax dollars at work!

After finding a deli for a late lunch (and having the best darn corned beef on marbled rye that I’ve had in ages!) we headed for the National Gallery - Mickey’s idea , probably because he knew that looking at incredible art might balance me. Once again, he was right.  I’m easy.  I won’t bore you with every sigh and exclamation over each painting and sculpture - but I will say that I never, ever tire of visiting the National Gallery. Ever.  Who wouldn’t love to walk through beautiful spaces like this…

to view everything from the works  of  13th century Italian masters to 21st century Americans.  Whether your tastes run to Byzantine art or Edward Hopper’s diners, there’s something here that will make your jaw drop.  Mine always does.  When such beauty exists it’s hard to believe that the world is a bad place.  Balance.

We walked out of the gallery just before 5pm and this is what we saw.

The place was crawling with cops.  My first thought was that I knew I shouldn’t have tried to touch that Ostade painting.  Then I figured that it wouldn’t take eighteen cop cars to haul me off to the pokey, and I doubted that the story was worth the three news vans that pulled up.  So we did what any hillbilly visitors from Tennessee would do - we sat down on the steps to see what played out.  We didn’t have to wait long before the sounds of chanting and marching drifted toward us and we spied a mob waving signs and flags.  They were one street over and heading closer.  There was only one thing to do, get out our cameras and check ‘em out!   Turns out it was a harmless group of “Occupy”  protesters headed for the capitol building.  So we tagged along.  Not for any political reasons, but to see how things unfolded down the road. It was quite diverse crowd, old and young of all colors - even one older fellow in an airline pilot’s uniform.    My pictures were all blurry because apparently I can’t march and snap photos at the same time.

Best of all, while they did their thing the D.C. police were in front and back of them, blocking traffic to make sure they were able to make their way peacefully and without incident.   

Once at the Capitol, there was singing - a bit more chanting, then some more singing, and then people sort of started to drift away.  No angry exchanges, nothing the media could latch onto.  I doubt this display will have any impact or change anything - but as protests go, it was a nice one.

This is what it looked like when we left, a few stragglers on the lawn - 

Whatever your leanings, it was cool to see democracy at work - especially considering that there’s not much work going on in that building behind them.  Oh, did I say that out loud?  

Much better coverage of the event here : http://www.wjla.com/ 

At the end of a long day we were happy to head back to our hotel and pick up dinner at a little Irish pub on the corner.  Fish and chips for Mickey and mulligan stew for me - perfect for a chilly night.  Now we’re in our room with our feet up, planning for tomorrow.  We’ve got National Geographic and a Pentagon tour on the schedule - everything else is up to chance.  Have Metro card, will travel.  

Until tomorrow I’ll leave you with one of the paintings that cleansed my soul today.  It’s Andrew Wyeth’s “Wind From the Sea” and as I stared it it I felt peace wash over me.  Hope it does the same for you.  Put yourself in the room, smell the salt air, feel the breeze….and breathe.  Yep, It works.

Sunday on the Pullen spread was spent taking care of last minute details in order to make our escape.  The chicken sitter was tutored and our bags were packed, and the remainder of the day was spent in a marathon watching of Downton Abbey.  I can’t get enough of that series.  We had to catch up since the new season has started. We finished season one and watched the first two episodes of season two.  It was a lot of tv.  More than I can usually stand, but ohmygosh I’m so addicted.  Now that we’re caught up it will be torture to wait for it to air each Sunday.  Will Matthew survive the war?  Will William? Why on Earth has Thomas been allowed back at Downton?  Will Mr. Bates and his sweet Anna ever know happiness? Will Mary and Edith stop sabotaging each other long enough to find husbands?  What’s up with Sybill and that chauffer?  Is it just me, or is Lord Grantham heading toward a midlife crises? Raise your hand if you love the polite war between Violet and Isobel.  Raise your hand again if you think Daisy is dumber than a sack of rocks.  Oddly enough, she may very well be the most powerful person in the house right now because she saw Cora, Anna, and Mary moving the body.  You know, Mr. Pamuk, the Turkish gentleman who croaked in Lady Mary’s bed.  All that, and I’ve barely scratched the surface.  I can’t wait for the next episode!  Until then„ though - I will be happily busy here in D.C.

Yep, we arrived in Washington, D.C. around 5:30 this afternoon after very uneventful travel.  Our flight landed, our bags popped out, we went up one escalator and hopped on the Metro and came out a block from our hotel. Easy peasey lemon squeezy.    Not long afterward, a certain young fellow who owns part of my heart arrived on another train.  This is the only day that Tyler may be able to juggle his schedule, so we were thrilled to see him.  We booked this trip long before we knew he was moving to these parts, so lucky us!  

We roamed around a bit and looked for a tempting spot for dinner. Right in the heart of Chinatown, we selected a place called Clyde’s.  Holy moley, everything was delicious!  The crabbiest crab cakes I’ve ever tasted, delicious sauteed spinach, crisp sweet potato fries….heaven!  The company was excellent as well.  Check out my handsome escorts.

Oh sure, they look friendly there.  But this is what they look like when they’re hungry and waiting for their dinner.

They’ll be thrilled that I posted these shots.  Anywho - after a wonderful dinner Ty came back  to our hotel and we talked and talked and talked.  It was a balm to my heart.  I need to see him here and see that he’s happy and healthy and loving his life.  He is.  I know that he was just home at Christmas, but it was so brief and we were all in a holiday frenzy.  This was different.   He’s working hard, and he’s working a lot, and he’s happy. Really happy.  *sigh*  Matt’s welfare check is next month - he’d better brace himself.  I just need to know that everyone is okay.  It helps me sleep at night.  Personally, I think they had a lot of nerve to grow up and leave the way they did.  In the end, Tyler caught an 11pm train and is headed back to  his apartment and his misfit cat, and we’re in our jammies.  Still a good night.

Tomorrow morning we’ll wake up and after a quick breakfast we’ll head for our scheduled tour of the White House.  The remainder of the day is up for grabs,  We may visit National Geographic’s Explorers Hall. We may soak up the treasures at the National Gallery, or the Smithsonian, or we may make a heart wrenching visit to the Holocaust Museum.  We’ll just see where the day takes us.  You can bet that in the evening I’ll be right back here sharing pictures with you.  Toodles ‘til then!

As promised, here’s a photo of the evening gown that Miss Alabama wore on Saturday night.  The internet is buzzing about that BOW.  I swear, it was twice as big as is shown in this publicity shot.  I’ll bet she thought “Go big or go home!” and fluffed that bow up til it was even with the top of her head.  I’m pretty sure that on pageant night there were some sort of streamers coming off of it too.  It looks almost okay in this picture.  It might have worked if the whole thing was red.  I have to wonder of that dress is supposed to look like Bear Bryant’s hat - sort of a houndstooth effect?  I would not be even a little bit surprised. 

And here’s the new Miss America - a beautiful, talented girl with mascara issues.  I know she’s cringing. Bet from now on she goes everywhere with waterproof, industrial strength, non-flammable, quake ready eyelashes.

Time to close the laptop, shove it in my suitcase, and head for D.C.  We’re meeting Tyler for dinner and we’ll get back to our hotel late - but I’ll post a thought or two about our day.

Have mascara, will travel….’til later!

Miss America!  Ahhh, once again the sequin and tiara craving beast that lives inside me has been satisfied.  This year’s Miss America pageant was a dandy.  I enjoyed it from beginning to end.  You know I’m happy to give you a brief summary of the event.  I’ll start with the parade of states, your first look at the contestants (unless you’re a weirdo fan like me and look them up ahead of time).  Each girl gets a few seconds of camera time and it’s their chance  to shout out their name and witty reference to their state.  Miss Arkansas said that she was Kristen Glover and she was from the great state of Arkansas “where being called a hog is a compliment!”…Miss Nevada offered her name and the fact that she was from the state “with the best dam features”….get it? Hoover Dam. Miss Idaho called herself a hot potato and Miss Virginia mentioned moonshine.  I knew we were off to a great start.  After the glittering kickoff to the show, the contestants were quickly whittled down to fourteen semi-finalists, with an extra gal thrown in as “America’s choice” based on online voting.  They scampered backstage to prepare for the swimsuit competition which was a parade of beautiful young women in bikinis.  I don’t think Mickey has blinked since it started.  I will say this, every contestant was gorgeous in her six square inches of regulation fabric, but I miss the days of the standard “entrance-three point turn-depart” system.  Apparently they are now allowed to freestyle and some work it like they need the money.  But that’s all I’ll say about that.  Then something AWFUL happened.  Numbers were reduced to twelve,  but with a twist. The three girls who had been cut were asked to stand at the front of the stage…and all previously eliminated contestants were allowed to “save” a girl by lining up behind their favorite of the three.  WHAT?!?  It was like some sort of middle school gym class nightmare.  In the end, Miss Alabama was saved and the other two departed knowing that not only did they not look good enough in their swimsuits, but the rest of the girls didn’t like them either.  I have a feeling there will be some emotional eating of Ben & Jerry’s in the hotel tonight.  I think it was just an awful thing to do. Horrible.   Thank goodness, evening gown was up next and if anything will get a bad taste out of my mouth, it’s GOWNS. Sparkly gowns, flowing gowns, gowns of all sorts. Oh, I do love em!  The break down was as follows: six white gowns, 2 nude sequined gowns, 2 black gowns, 1 red…all very nice, but the two that stood out were Texas who knocked it out of the park with a dazzling gold number, and Alabama who I swear used a a bowdabra to accessorize her black and white gown.  There was a bow perched on her shoulder that was as big as a tire. It was HUGE, y’all.  Huge.  I don’t think she scored any extra points for that one.  I couldn’t help thinking that if she got sleepy backstage she could just tilt her head an inch or two and use that bow as a convenient pillow.  It was large. From evening gown we went straight to the talent portion of the contest - with a collection of vocalists and ballerinas with one Irish step dancer and a pianist thrown into the mix.  Miss Wisconsin wowed the place with an operatic number and Miss Oklahoma did an energetic step dance until her shoe literally came apart.  Miss California was a very intense and sort of scary black swan ballerina.  I may have nightmares.  The best part of the talent section is that fun facts about each participant pop up during their minute and a half performance - just things you might need to know about your future Miss America.  Things like “Miss New York wishes to visit outer space”..”Miss Louisiana almost swallowed a diamond”…”Miss Oklahoma drives a truck with a lift kit”…and my personal favorite, “Miss Illinois is afraid of windmills”…mmmm-hmmm. Interesting. And I’ll need to know more about that diamond story.  This is another area where I think the Miss America folks could work on being a kinder, gentler pageant…during the talent portion thirteen girls dress up and wait, but only ten get called - that’s how you get your ten semi-finalists.  So, often there are girls left standing with a bugle or a baton or an outrageous costume that wasn’t easy to get into.  I think that could be handled better.  Those ten then face the biggest cut of the night when only five are chosen to continue to the interview round.   Since Mickey is walking around turning lights off, I’ll wrap this up quickly.  The remaining five gave confident and intelligent answers to questions on topics ranging from Occupy Wall Street to reality tv.  Remember, this is a scholarship pageant.  That’s why you need to wear a bikini.  Next up they give the reigning Miss America a chance to walk around one last time in her crown and give a little speech about what fun it’s been.  Honestly, the sadness that they try to project as she takes her “last walk” leads me to think that after she’s done they’ll take her out back and shoot her. What the heck?  In the end, a queen was chosen and she was from the great state of Wisconsin.  A beautiful brunette with twinkling eyes was crowned our new Miss America.  She was the one who belted out “Il Bacio” during the talent competition and  looked very glamorous in a black lace gown.  Bless her heart, she failed to wear waterproof mascara and when her name was called as the winner she cried black rivers down her cheeks.  Oops, rookie mistake.  Lesson learned. Other than that she seems well equipped to travel the nation doing good deeds and spreading cheer.  I’m quite satisfied with the new queen and I promise to dig up a few pageant pictures in the morning to share with you.  For now, I think I’ll toddle off to bed and dream of sequined gowns and sparkling crowns.  Good stuff.

The traditional snow dance method of bringing flakes has worked again!  Our world was (briefly)coated in sparkling white.  Sure, it’s mostly gone now, but it was enough to get the kiddies a day off school.  Monday is a holiday so those flurries provided a four day weekend for local teachers and students - that’s cause for celebration!  

I met a sweet friend for lunch yesterday at a place called The Cuckoo’s Nest.  It’s an adorable restaurant located in a renovated cottage and they offer delicious food.  I opted for broccoli quiche and asian slaw.  To die for.  While we dined and chatted the morning’s misty rain turned to snow flakes. I had to fight the urge point at the window and yell, “It’s SNOWING!!”  Old habits die hard.  After lunch I hurried home and spent the afternoon watching snow fall.  I highly recommend it as a pleasant way to pass time.  I puttered a bit and then settled in with a book and a sleepy dog.  The wind was really howling and I had high hopes for a real blizzard.  Our accumulation fell far short of that, but it was enough to make it feel like winter.

I had to pick the mister up at the airport around 9pm so it was just as well that things didn’t get too awful.  He made it in right on time and as we drove home it started to snow again. We cuddled up and prepared to wake to a winter wonderland.  Eh, not so much.  Although it was plenty cold, our dusting of snow didn’t stick around long.  

Mickey was trapped in his office all day today, fielding phone calls and putting out fires.  I dusted, vacuumed, spread some fresh hay for the hens, started some laundry and dropped off a plate of lunch to the mister.  Then I got down to the business of making cupcakes.  There’s a pageant this weekend (perhaps I’ve mentioned it a time or ten?) and I thought I’d do something pink and girly.  I also wanted to try my hand at fondant.  I think it’s high time I learned a little something about it and today I did.  Mostly I learned that I don’t know diddly squat.  It’s basically made of marshmallow, powdered sugar, and Crisco.  Not too appetizing, but handy for making shapes. Well in theory. I decided to make little pearls in a gold setting - painted of course with edible gold luster powder.  Mine were like snowflakes - no two were alike.

I tried my hand at making curlicues and other shapes, then I decided to use the scraps of leftover fondant to cut out crowns.  That didn’t work so well.  I wasn’t sure how thin or thick to roll it.  Then I got the frosting WAY too pink.  I had a soft, pastel pink in mind but ended up with a true Pepto-Bismol hue. Then I whipped a tad too much which caused air bubbles and a less than smooth delivery. Thank goodness these cupcakes will never leave the comfort of our kitchen because around here they’re what we call “just fine”.  Dorky, but fine. There’s still chocolate underneath so all is well.

As the last patch of snow faded away I figured I’d better rustle up some dinner. I threw together an easy chicken dish (SO easy - here’s the recipe from an earlier post:  http://nancypullen.tumblr.com/search/honey+balsamic) and we ate and watched Jeopardy.  We are geniuses from the comfort of our living room.  Pretty sure it would be a different story with a buzzer in our hands.  We’re good at different categories - I could do alright in art and literature, Mickey would kill in the science and political categories, and we’d do okay with history and cinema.  In fact, if we found a long trench coat and I sat on Mickey’s shoulders and we entered under one name…I’ll bet we could win.  Only Mickey would have to do the wagering since I’m not great at math.  So he’d have to sit on my shoulders.  We haven’t really thought this out.  But yeah, we’re really smart.

Anywayyyyy, the evening is slipping away and soon we’ll greet Saturday. Our weekend will be spent tying up loose ends like saggy hounds and hens in order to leave for D.C. on Monday. It’s high time we went somewhere and looked around and we figured that the nation’s capital in January might not be crowded.  We’re certainly not afraid to bundle up and run around, and the majority of our time will be spent in wonderful spots like the National Gallery and the Smithsonian.  Can’t think of a better way to pass a week in the winter.  Representative Cooper came through with passes for a White House tour, a Pentagon tour, gallery passes for the House, and a Capitol tour.  We’ll have plenty to do!  We’ll get to see Tyler one day and hopefully Cathi on another.  How’s that for a splendid trip?  I can’t wait! 

The dryer just buzzed and that means that my flannel nightgown and other jammies are ready.  If I hurry I can slip into them while they’re still toasty.  Perfect for a chilly night!  Time to settle in with a book and let the remainder of this evening take care of itself.  Not a bad day for Friday the 13th, not bad at all. Hope your Friday was uneventful and satisfying.  Until tomorrow, my dears…

I woke up this morning to the sound of rain beating on the roof.  As far as I’m concerned that’s a sign from above to pull the covers over my head and catch another thirty minutes of sleep. So that’s what I did.  When I finally shuffled down the hall to release the hound, he was in no hurry either.  I’ve never seen a dog so slow to start the day.  He eventually made his way outside to drag his ears through the puddles and take care of his business.  I shared my breakfast with him and read a few interesting tidbits from the newspaper out loud.  Turns out he couldn’t care less about national politics or local happenings.  His ears did perk up a bit when I mentioned a sale on peanut butter at Kroger.  Then the garbage men showed up right on time and Huck raced to the front door to wag his tail at them.  That was my morning.  

The rain had no intention of moving on, so I donned my spiffy new rubber boots and left the homestead to run a few errands.  First stop, the Gladeville post office.  Matt has a set of ExamKrackers books here that one of his cousins needed & I’d located them and said I’d mail them.  No problemo, it meant a chance to visit with the fabulous Ramona, postmistress of The Glade.  As always, we laughed, solved the problems of the world, then laughed some more.  She was sporting some awesome new turquoise eyeglasses and when I asked about them she told me that she’d left her glasses at home and had to run to Dollar General to grab some to get her through the day.  They were pretty special, I may have to pop into Dollar General…wonder if they have any leopard print?

Scenes from a drive to the post office…gray,wet,gloomy.

But those clouds may be promising more than rain.  The weatherman on WKRN actually uttered the “S” word.  Teachers and children all over Wilson County have their hopes up tonight.  They’re all going through the traditional activities that are sure to produce snow.  The rituals are as follows: snow dance (there is much booty shaking involved), turning your pajamas inside out, flushing ice cubes down the toilet, putting a spoon under your pillow, and last but certainly not least - putting a white crayon in the freezer.  Personally, I think it’s the pajamas that do the trick.  It’s worked for us more than once.  The forecast mentioned that if snow arrives, it won’t be here until Thursday afternoon.  Best case scenario would be early dismissal tomorrow with a day off on Friday.  But I guess the bigger question here is why the heck I still care so much about snow days?  I’m off every day!  I can’t help myself, I still remember the thrill of seeing “Wilson County Schools Closed” scroll across the bottom the television screen.  There was many a happy dance done in this house when it appeared.  So, for the sake of all of the kiddies and teachers , I’ll still turn my jammies inside out.

And because I have turned half-southern, at the mention of snow I headed for Kroger.  I figured I’d beat the after work crowd.  Trouble is, this is what my basket looked like…

That’s my big snow day haul.  Cauliflower, baby carrots, hummus, popcorn, chocolate, and doggy pops for the beast.  I added a twelve pack of Diet Coke and checked out.  Boring.  Certainly not what I would have laid in with excited kiddos at home.

 I left Kroger and made one last stop , at Target.  I’ve been on an organizing kick lately and there are a million and one tips online to help you find a place for everything.  Ice trays in a drawer to hold jewelry? Brilliant!  Tension rods under sinks to hook all of your spray bottles on? Of course!  But today I needed a magazine holder, just a cheap plastic one.  Found it at Target for $2.24 and it freed up a whole drawer for me!

Now the drawer to the right of the stove that housed those unwieldy wraps is home to my most frequently used utensils.  That means that the crock that sat beside the stove that used to hold those utensils can be moved, freeing up more space!  Ta-da! There’s still room in there for a box or two of ZipLoc baggies or whatever. All tucked away, nice and neat.  I just used some of those handy dandy double stick squares to adhere the magazine holder to the inside of the cabinet door.  I didn’t want to put screws in the cabinet and it’s still quite sturdy. I think I’d like to put one in the bathroom as well to store blow dryers and brushes and such.  Handy!

That was my thrill for the day, finding a new home for plastic wrap and aluminum foil.  Well, that and visiting the hen house.  That never gets old.  They’re good company.  Now I do believe that it’s time for me to go keep my pillow company and lose myself in a book .  Here’s hoping that my inside out jammies do the trick and tomorrow brings snow!  It’s high time that winter put in an appearance around here.  

Sweet dreams ~

January weather - variety is the spice of life!