Eagles and Baseball.

Sunday was James' Court of Honor for his Eagle award.



And Monday, thanks to Theresa, we caught the Nationals/Astros game.

Jobs.

Maybe this is a meme, I don't know. But these are the jobs I've worked:

• Babysitter Extrodinaire (Red Cross trained and certified, oh baby)
• Arby's Drive thru (until I realized it conflicted with Oklahoma football season)
• For the Children Foundation (Lafayette Elementary, New Orleans, LA)
• Hallmark Cards (until they wouldn't let me go to school)
• Admin Asst. @ Weichert Realtors (worked full time, schooled 17 hours/semester)
• Independent Contractor for multiple realtors (yay for mailings)
• Data Entry till I realized it was horrible.
• Circulation Assistant at the university library
• Tutor in the Writing Center
• Independent Contractor for editing resumes
• Resident Advisor
• Writing Fellow through the Writing Center
• Library Admin Asst. and Do-it-all
• Technical Writer and Editor for govt contractor

And this is why I got out of college in four years. Yay for work!

Congratulations!

To the new graduates!

6 a.m.

Reasons why I like getting to work at this time:

• My four-mile commute takes ten minutes instead of twenty
• The sun's just coming up
• Construction down the street hasn't started up yet
• Seven Corners isn't so scary with only five cars on it
  
• The office is sometimes still dark when I come in
• I get a prime parking spot in the garage
• It's really quiet and I can get my work done quickly
• No line for coffee
• I'm home by 2:30 p.m. giving me the rest of the day to goof off.
  

Reasons I don't:

• I like staying up past 9 p.m.
• I just can't do it
  

The Da Vinci Code.

So I finished this book on Monday.

Qualms:

1. Not imaginative
2. The clues are so freaking obvious that you don't need a cryptology degree to 'get' them.
3. Dan Brown needs to learn big words and use complex thoughts.
4. Don't explain things a million times through the book-- we usually pick up on things the first time.
5. All the French characters should have spoken entirely in French. With subtitles.
5. My response to the ending: "ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!?" as I threw the book on the living room floor.

Commentary:
1. This book is fiction. (OK, that was a fact, not a commentary.)
2. The upset over the book and it's portrayal of the Church can be a little offensive.
3. The books portrayal of Jesus Christ and Mary Magdalene (sp?) and the ideas surrounding them--in this book at least-- are fiction. Some think otherwise, I think insecurity in your own faith.
4. I don't think the book portrayed Opus Dei poorly, but portrayed a radical monk who practiced Opus Dei.
5. Catholics are cool.
6. Anglicans are cooler.

Notes:
a. I read this book because I wanted to see the movie. Apparently the movie sucks. Dammit.
b. The Last Temptation of Christ is one of my favorite films.
c. I was raised and celebrate in the Episcopal Church.

Weekend.

This weekend was spectacular.

Friday: The power went out in our building, so we got off work at 10:30am to telecommute the rest of the day. Grabbed lunch with Bennett and his friend Will (whom I realized I lived with in Dominion Junior year) at Red Hot and Blue in Fairfax. Talked and talked and talked and Bennett and I started laughing so hard we were crying trying to relate this man's stories from McSweeney's to Will. They're my favorites (A word of advice to toddlers in playgrounds: wait until the swing has come to a full and complete stop before falling asleep), if you ever have time to spare, you'll read all twenty dispatches.

After leaving Bennett and Will, I caught up with good pal Mallory for lunch part deux at Panera and then we were off to the mall to get some stuff for her from Sephora. I had never been there before, so it was a new experience and a little overwhelming-- or not. She dropped me off back at my car at the restaurant and I stopped inside the Petco next door to see if they had any animals I could play with. I found a cute baby (four months old) green conure. He was so sweet and all he wanted was his head scratched. I probably would have bought him if a.) Aaron wouldn't have killed me, and b.) he wasn't $350. Conures are sweet birds that are really really quiet (like lovebirds) and they're almost like dogs when it comes to their loyalty and attachment to their owner. I think I stayed with him for about half an hour before hitting the road.

Aaron wasn't due home from work for another hour so I drove out to Burke Lake Park to read my book (The Da Vinci Code-- I'll have another entry on this later). I was about to leave when this girl about my age came up to the parking lot playing with a boxer puppy she was pet-sitting. We talked about the dog and how boxers behave and stuff (I've secretly wanted one for a while now). The dog's name was Toby and he was five months old; still not full grown, but his feet were huge. The girl told me that male boxers are always larger than females and that if I like boxers, but scared they'll be too big, to get a female. He was a beautiful dog, and the girl was nice enough to talk to me. I think I may have embarrassed her because I was in my car when she walked up to hers and started playing with Toby, it was really funny to watch, but she was cool (and so was the pup).

Aaron was already home by the time we got there. We watched the Daily Shows he had recorded and got some dinner. We called it an early night since he still had to pack and get ready; he left for Chicago to see his family and relax a bit on Saturday (but he gets home tomorrow!).

Saturday: Saturday morning, Theresa came over and we went to the National Zoo! We had fun fun fun. The weather was overcast and humid, but it didn't rain, so it was good in that regard. The cheetahs were out and playing and I hopefully got some good shots with my telephoto (have to get the film developed). The gibbons were going crazy as usual and sounded like every firetruck in the metro area had converged on the park. The hippos were blob-like, the maned wolf was lounging, and the storks were as ugly as ever (like always). Seriously though, why do storks deliver babies if they're that ugly, why not a nice crane or something?







Highlights from the zoo include seeing the baby elephant, the naughty things we found in the petting zoo, and "Where the hell are the damn lemurs!" We also found that all the chimp sculptures in their little garden were anatomically correct (it was a little disturbing) and that I could fit my whole body inside the Trex skull-sculpture they had. There are a few more photos on the Flickr site, but still waiting on the film.

On our way home, we had lunch at a sidewalk cafe near the metro and stopped by American Apparel to look at the pretty colors. Theresa and I have decided to go on more adventures more often!

When I got back to Falls Church, I cleaned up and read more of my book (as mentioned above) and then headed over to the guys' (Carl, Joe, Joey, Curtis) house to hang out with the Hogan boys and play (or watch them play) some Halo. We had fun fun fun. I'm never drinking wine again (again, Kate, with the hyperboles).

Sunday: Sunday morning I picked up Mallory and we drove out to Warrenton. Malmo's moving off campus (yay for graduating!) and needed a bed. Mattresses are a lot like cars whereas they're cheaper if you buy them out in the country. She got an awesome queen-size pillowtop with free delivery (to Fairfax noless) and a frame for about a third the price she would have had to pay in town. That and I told the guy that all my family's mattresses and mine had come from this store-- workin' the deal, yo! I think we did awesome. She met my family and we were at the house for a bit before coming home. It was stormy and rainy, so I'm glad we left when we did.

That night I almost finished my book (finished the last thirty pages yesterday) and went to bed early to prepare for another week at work. I have a review coming up, so it's going to be busy with all this training I have to do.

So yes, that was my super-awesome weekend.

And the Wind Blew

It's got to be in the upper seventies today. And breezy, too.

I'm on my back porch, I thought I'd spend my downtime outside. I'm sitting here, in my little camp chair, labtop in hand (or lap, of course), my RC Cola's fizzing in its Baja Fresh Cinco de Mayo cup-- and all I can hear is the wind. Well, the wind and birds and back-hoes beeping and running in the site at the end of my street. But mostly the wind. Or do I only hear the trees and the grass and the azalea bushes, the vines and honeysuckle behind my house?

This was the sound I missed the most when I lived in Oklahoma. You could only hear it in a few places, my favorite, St. Crispin's Camp where I spent hours and hours outside. There were trees there, although not as many and not as tall as ones in Virginia, but they were there. Oklahoma is windy, but not the kind of windy you'd associate with here. There, the wind is relentless; it never stops, even for a moment to catch its breath. The sound it makes comes from its echo in your ears. Sometimes it's so loud you can't hear yourself think, other times you just tune it out.

My brothers used to fly kites when we lived there. Although not exactly a normal kind of kite with a tail-- but man, did they fly. We had a tarp in the back yard, the typical blue kind you'd buy at a hardware store; we'd pin it down with heavy stones we found in the school park behind our house. It was for the sand box, to keep the kitties out. My brothers took some rope and tied two pieces to opposite gromits in the corners (we blame the Boy Scouts for teaching them knots so well). The wind immediately filled the huge 10x10 piece of fabric, James held one rope, Phillip the other--the force dragging them down the access road past our backyard. They ruined a couple pairs of shoes this way, leaving their soles to the asphalt. Tarps, too.

They later got the brilliant idea to let Danny hold both ropes. Danny was no more than eight years old, and small for his age. I remember whenever Danny flew it always seemed he was in the air forever. Hearing my brothers laugh and giggle and yell all the while running after him down the road-- that was my favorite part.

After seeing Danny airborne for the first time, Mom grounded my brothers' hobby for good. No more tarp-adventures for these flyboys.

Bend.

You can tell a lot about a person by the way they bend. We've got a lot of benders at work, and by bender I mean literally 'to bend' rather than heavy drinking activity.

To enter my office building, one must swipe their badge and enter a code; pretty easy, but the number pad is lacking utility for people on both sides of the height scale. I might be considered tall, for a female; I'm five feet and eight inches barefoot. Our number pad comes up to the bottom of my sternum, where my chest stops and my abdomen begins. In order to type in my code, I have to contort my body-- not just bow my head-- and bend low enough to see the numbers that flip up on the pad.

There's no dicreet way about it, and so, I give you the many bends found at my workplace:

The Squat: After swiping badge, one literally squats before the number pad, legs apart just a bit and bent at the knees. Usually shorter, older men.

The Side-Step: Our subject approaches the number pad, but stands a little of to the side, and instead of bending forward, they bend to the side-- much like doing a side-stretch-- to access the number pad. Usually tall females.

The Hunchback: Only bends one's upper body-- the spine and shoulders-- to lose just enough height to see the number pad. I've seen subjects lose half their height in this move, it's quite amazing.

The Forward Fold: Just like in Yoga class, the subject keeps their body in a straight line, extending the spine to get that extra height. Bending at the hip-points, this subject doesn't stop until their body has made a nintey-degree angle. At this point they bend their head up to see the number pad and type in their code. Usually performed by young females.

The Sitter: Much like the squat, but Sitters keep their legs tightly together at the knees. This move is handy when wearing a short skirt.

The Catcher: After swiping badge, these subjects go into a low squat, legs wide apart to type in their code. Subjects often tall males in formal business attire.

The Strainer: The Strainer is a funny character. This one's not quite as willing to bend as much as others I've observed. These subjects approach the number pad exuding total confidence. Standing up straight and very close to the pad, they bow their heads as much as possible, chin(s) hitting chest, and without bending type in their number. These subjects usually mis-type their code and have to choose from one of the many bends to correct it. The Strainers are typically men in front of females or their bosses.

The Hold and Bend: The subjects that perform this kind of nonchalante move are quite funny. These are the type of people you want to be your friends. This move is very informal and requires less preparation than the others: Approach the numberpad, hold on to the numberpad-box by wrapping your hand and lower arm around it, bend over like you're hugging the thing and type in your number with your other hand.

The I Don't Care so I'm Going to Sneak in Behind this Person: This move usually doesn't work since there's a security guard waiting just past the entrance. Subject is relegated to type in their code using one of the previously mentioned positions.

The Hands Full: This one's a little tricky. The subject sets travel mug on top of numberpad box and shifts weight towards the door; subject then types in number with free hand and then grabs the door after the unlock 'click' with same free hand. At this point, subject throws leg inside door while simultaneously grabbing travel mug from numberpad. If the door coming down on subject's leg has not shattered her tibia, subject insert's knee into door and wedges her (I mean 'their') body inside. Kind gentleman holds elevator for subject, but subject is delayed by Security guard as the subject did not hold up their badge while coming in. Security guard approaches and does The Forward Fold to see subject's ID badge handing from its lanyard around her neck. Elevator starts beeping as kind gentleman still holds the door open. "Good morning, thank you for holding the door for me." This move is usually pulled by a certain employee named Kate on Wednesday mornings.

So, which move are you?

Thoughts on the Metro

Covertly, one can take pictures of almost anything on the Metro, and so she did: a guy with a traumatic scar on his leg, band-aids seemingly fused and lost in his former wound; a child swinging around a pole -- losing his balance as the train swayed back and forth. But there are things you don't take pictures of, and, at the time, I didn't have an answer for my friend when she asked, "But why can't I?"

It's just an understanding.

Our other friend pointed them out-- the sweet couple a few rows back on the train; she was sleeping, resting on her husband's shoulder so comfortably you knew they were soulmates. Although I would have liked to have seen it, a copy of the New York Times Book Review kept her face from me. Her curled, short, pewter-colored hair rested against his chin. Her husband, in a straw, fedora-like hat, held his chin at an angle almost perpendicular to the paper, reading through his bifocals. He had a wide mouth and dark eyebrows, spots of age didn't overwhelm his sharp face. He and his wife were on their way home, late on a Sunday night, just like us-- only she fell asleep, her head in that familiar place she'd known for years. He didn't move but to turn the page of his paper; his shoulder may have been asleep, but she was too.

This is bliss. You don't take a picture of it, but you take it with you if you can. Something so simple and familiar that it means the world -- whether you're inside and part of it or outside looking in. And that's the understanding.