The enduring legacy of Memorial Day

Again, either I’m intoxicated with this City, or my life at this moment, or I’m so patriotic that my blood runs red, white, and blue.

"The true lesson of Arlington is that each headstone is that of a patriot. Each headstone shares a story.” --Paul Tarbox, as quoted by President Obama

I decided Sunday night to go to Arlington National Cemetery for the Memorial Day service. I arrived early, with no “luggage” since security would be crazy. (I had no clue that President Obama was speaking.) I just found it appropriate to truly honor the reason we have Memorial Day. I skipped the shuttle line and huffed it up a detoured route to the Tomb of the Unknowns. Along the way I met Pat and Craig. They work with PACER, well, maybe I have the initials wrong but they run a company which choreographs 5ks, 10ks, Marathons, and the like for charity. They have a daughter whom also works for the same company, she was not there. This couple and I had a similar walking pace and well, we had a blast together. Pat walks in Arlington Cemetery every morning for exercise from their condo, so she knew her way around. It was pretty amazing to watch and be able to distinguish the tourists, whom trample all over the graves, and the locals, whom dutifully walk around. (Factoid: Jogging, biking, etc. is illegal in Arlington; it is disrespectful.)



I think we need an animal division added to Arlington, or maybe a non-human "Arlington" (there are groups working on this).

Pat, Craig, and I parted ways when we were told that the Amphitheater had reached capacity and we could not go through security.

But, Alas! Michelle did not give up; I walked around, came back to find they were letting people through security. I was determined that today would be epic; I took the reins and made it happen. The security guard let me cut the line after I gave him my sob story.

I WAS IN!

It was not until I got the program for the day that I realized that I would soon be in the same amphitheater with President Obama, and maybe, just maybe the First Lady.

“We remember that the blessings we enjoy as Americans came at a dear cost; that our very presence here today, as free people in a free society, bears testimony to their enduring legacy.” President Obama

So, I just read the transcript of the President’s speech at Arlington Cemetery today. (I listened but you can only catch so much between a panting service dog on your left and an elderly woman, who cannot handle the heat, nor can she stand for 4 hours straight, on your right.)

“That's what we memorialize today. That spirit that says, send me, no matter the mission. Send me, no matter the risk. Send me, no matter how great the sacrifice I am called to make. The patriots we memorialize today sacrificed not only all they had but all they would ever know. They gave of themselves until they had nothing more to give.” President Obama

I am remorseful that I have spent my adult life with the view of Memorial Day as a day off of work, a day to drink, to cook out. I may have done a facebook update “thanking” those that serve; however, this "tribute" is laughable. And I am calling myself out here. I did not understand Memorial Day until today. Until I, as an adult, walked past a wall of 58,272 names from 1959-1975 that perished, or were never located during Vietnam.

Or the Stars at the WWII Memorial that signified 400,000 lives. 4,000 stars total. Or, the distinct line in the Washington Monument, marking where construction ceased until the Civil War ended. Or, the discussion with Steve, my tour guide, about Gettysburg. A three day battle with 51,112 lives lost. (No, we did not remember the exact number; however, Steve knew it was 50,000. Close enough for me.)

“We memorialize our first patriots -- blacksmiths and farmers, slaves and freedmen -- who never knew the independence they won with their lives. We memorialize the armies of men, and women disguised as men, black and white, who fell in apple orchards and cornfields in a war that saved our union. We memorialize those who gave their lives on the battlefields of our times -- from Normandy to Manila, Inchon to Khe Sanh, Baghdad to Helmand, and in jungles, deserts, and city streets around the world.” President Obama

Memorial Day has been forever changed for me. Memorial Day is an honor, a rite. Not just a day off of work, or an excuse to drink coldbeers on a boat. It’s a day to honor all those lives that have secured and continued to secure our liberties. Lives that we do not even know existed; lives that made a difference. Lives that should be honored.



I should mention, here, that Westborough Baptist Church had a protest at Arlington Cemetery today. They were strong with 3 people and a shitty ass boombox (Mom, yes, I used a bad word, stop it, its fine). The masses passed them, for the most part, without even a glance; there was a “protest” to Westborough’s protest across the street. And a group of heavy ass American flag pole carrying veteran volunteers who stood in front of Westborough. I respect the right to free speech. I respect what Westborough has to say. Agree, or disagree; I respect everything our Country stands for. Westborough being part of that Great Country. However, the fact that few cared what they had to say was nice. The fact that I can go and see, and hear our President, all politics aside, is amazing.



Imagine a nation where your leader is locked away, or forbids you to criticize him. Yeah, we live in a great place, with all its faults and terrible, horrible, horrendous things that occur; we live in a great nation. We have a great man at our helm. We have a lot of great liberties.



Oh, geez, I’m out of wine, and have been typing for a solid hour. This day may take me a moment to put into tangible form, as I have not even mentioned Steve yet. Steve made my day, literally. Steve, I owe you so much. I hope our friendship continues for a long, long time.

Steve, the most wonderful man from L.A., who lives in Georgetown; you are a gem. Steve and I met at the Arlington Amphitheater. I was taking a self portrait and explaining to the girls next to me that I needed to take it to fulfill my blog expectations. (I did take them up on the offer and the picture they took was much better, however, I need to capture myself in these moments. To remind myself in the future that “yes, that was me. That was my life. I made THAT happen.”)



As the Arlington Ceremony was closing Steve asked me for my blog information, since he was curious of other’s take on the City. He has lived here for 10 years and has this place dialed in, seriously, dialed in. He went to graduate school at Georgetown and now works a stone’s throw from the National Mall. We struck up a conversation since I had no desire to ride the shuttle to the front of the Cemetery and preferred to walk; Steve was game. After all, he was on his bike and I was envious that I had taken the Metro rather than pedaled around DC.



Steve pushed his bike all around the National Mall, across the Potomac, just to show me around and give me an insider’s view of D.C. on such a Great Day. We paid nothing for our experience except for our time, a bottle of water, frozen lemonade, and a snowcone. However, I learned so much.

We walked across the river from Arlington to the Lincoln Memorial. Steve and I talked about boats and bikes, and bike trails, and D.C., and how Georgetown was NOT GW (tourist exposed!). We locked his bike up and ventured to the Lincoln Memorial. Steve knew all the cool spots and knew all the myths.

He pointed out typos at the Lincoln Memorial. (And informed me of typos at the Jefferson Memorial).

Steve told me about the significance of little things that you get on all the tours that take hours. The number of pillars, or the 19 Soldiers at the Korean War Memorial, or how the Vietnam Wall was designed. He was so patient and willing to chat. I learned of a bike tour that I’m certain we will venture on together.

The Korean Memorial was neato mosquito. The 19 soldiers signify each branch of the military, and upon reflection, you get more than you bargained for, literally.

It was invigorating to see the flowers everywhere, literally, everywhere you went, flowers. Memorial Day – it is a Memorial, whether we memorialize the lives from our homes, boats, decks, or D.C., we should meditate on all the lives put into this nation.

Steve and I marched over to the Wall. We listened for a moment at the Vietnam Wall for the ceremony of reading the 58,262 names. But quickly decided to move on, I’m not sure who was leading, or who was following; we just went. I was willing; Steve was willing. We stopped at the Nurse’s Memorial briefly and continued to walk. Steve imparting his knowledge on me with the only stipulation that I do the same for someone in the future.

Founder’s Island, yeah, I love it. It’s not highly traveled but in the middle of it all. The Weeping Willows are lovely. It’s so quaint and usually overlooked. It is an island that stands as a memorial to those who drafted and signed the Declaration of Independence.

So we walked.

Washington Monument. Steve made his jokes, and we walked around for him to show me where a miniature Washington Monument is under a manhole. It’s an exact replica, just in the ground. Also, the Washington Monument’s original cornerstone is elsewhere. Yeah, cool, eh? Thanks, Steve! (The original monument could not be built in its original location because the ground was too soft.)

WWII Memorial was not as awe inspiring as the past few. You can’t deny a wall of names, or seeing life-size soldiers. However, I paid my honor. After all it’s Memorial Day. I can remember a life I don’t know.

So we walked all the way around the White House. The North Lawn is way closer, and honestly, the Vice President has the hook-up. Second in line, and a way bigger pad!

Steve had already professed that he was not a parade person, and honestly neither am I, however, the magic of this day made me want to see the Parade. I felt I still needed to honor the lives that had given me all I know. Given me the ability to be a woman, in law school, that can vote, that can express her opinion. That can own property. A woman that has power in a nation that allows for all these freedoms. A nation that wants to me to succeed; that needs me to succeed.

Listen. The tide has turned for me.





We watched for a moment. And began our trek back to the Lincoln Memorial. Steve’s bike was parked there. I took advantage of our second passing of the Lincoln Memorial and asked a couple from L.A. to take a photo. Just know, today was epic.

Today, I forgot that I took a bus home; today I forgot that the Metro scared me; today I forgot how caddy life/law school/work is; today I remembered and memorialized all those who have sacrificed so much, who have given so much, so I can be me, so I can be who I want. Today, I thought on all the great souls that make this nation. Today, Memorial Day 2011, the tide changed for Michelle.

Today, I gave all my positive thoughts and energy to those that gave it all, to those that do what most can’t, put it all on the line. Not to be a hero, not be remembered, but because they do for so many reasons, reasons we don’t need to know. Reasons that make every person who protects this nation a hero.



The Idea of You

Bus stop dreamer

The late night

There's something moving

DMB

D.C. in real life

I have started my job, at the Melting Pot in Arlington, and I start at AWI on Tuesday.  I quickly transitioned from tourist to I’m actually living here.  However, the tourist has not been completely lost yet.  I packed a lunch and rode my bike down to the Capitol today and enjoyed a wonderful wine lunch while people watching.  I was even dubbed “a local” by a set of middle school girls on a scavenger hunt.  (OK, not so much “local” as “Look she is eating lunch on the lawn, maybe, she actually lives here.  Let’s go ask.”)   Apparently only people who live in the area pack lunches and eat on the lawn of the Capitol.  I smiled for the picture they had to take with my tomato and spinach salad, and my banana. 

The boys and I ventured to Shaw Dog Park again this morning.  With it being a Saturday there were a number of dogs there.  It’s truly amazing how engaging people are, and the fact that they actually listen.  I had a long talk with a gentleman who works for WeighWatchers, and he was over the moon to hear of what I was here for and what area of law I would like to go into.  Strauss even warmed up to him (after the man threw the ball 8,000,000 times, of course) but if you know Strauss, well, you know he likes who he likes and if you are not in the circle of trust, well, in his world you don’t exist. 

I successfully chased down my first bus today.  It had left a minute early and there was no way in hell I was waiting 20 minutes for the next bus to come through.  On the weekends, everything slows down, except for Michelle, if her bus is pulling away.  I screamed and yelled and waved my arms.  But, you see, the trick is to beat on whatever part of the bus you can reach.  He stopped and I made it home at 12:07 instead of 12:58.  Score. 

Total stream of consciousness is going on tonight.

"Do not bring people in your life who weigh you down. And trust your instincts ... good relationships feel good. They feel right. They don't hurt. They're not painful . . . Who's in your life, and do you respect them, and do they respect you? And are you respecting them?”

                                                -Michelle Obama

I’m inserting this quote because I’m missing my partner, my lover, my friend.  (Amongst a few other very special people in my life.)  But in all reality I miss him terribly.  Long distance relationships are not for the weak.  And in truth, we have been doing this for a while; however, there is something markedly different about having one state that separates you, and having five states that separates you.  Call me a whiner, or remind me that it’s only a few months, whatever.  I made a choice to surround myself with great people, him being the number one. 

Oh, let’s all cross our fingers in hopes that DSoL’s namesake actually reads my email requesting a tour of the White House.  Congressman Duncan, Michelle really, really, really, really wants to see the White House. 

On the agenda for tomorrow is the Basilica of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception, “America’s Catholic Church.”  The National Shrine is the largest Catholic Church in North America and Canada, and in the top ten largest churches in the world.  I shall report back as to how it compares to the National Cathedral. 

Cheers.

My horoscope mislead me . . . all the way to the end of the line

Horoscope for Leo for today, May, 26. 2011: "If you were contemplating some retail therapy today, think again. Avoid spending."

So I took that as a hint to stay in.  I took the boys to the dog park and ate a nice salad for lunch.  I read a book.  I also planned that getting to work would take me an hour, so I set aside two in order to juggle the confusions of mass public transit.

What my horoscope should have said was "Go get a smart card, load it up, oh, and the G8 bus runs the direction you want to go, as well as the opposite direction.  Pay attention because the Universe can only get you so far, you have to figure out public transportation on your own, sweetie."

To do list for tomorrow only consists of this: GO GET A SMART CARD

Woman of visions

Well, as far as I’m concerned, I’m not here to have a normal life.

I’m sent here on a mission . . . I came here as a man of visions.

-Howard Finster, 1984

Spiritual.  That’s the word for the day.  And not a spiritual that I can assign words to, I shall try, however, I doubt that today could be understood by anyone but myself. 

The above quote appeared on the wall at the American Art Museum.  I wish to modify it to say “I came here as a woman of visions.”  Hopefully, I can live up to some portion of that challenge; the challenge that for whatever reason I have the thoughts/ ideas/ convictions that I do.  The challenge that I don’t brush those convictions under the rug and instead strive for money or “things.”  The challenge that I can envision a different future and want to be a part of that change.  The challenge that while change can be scary, it can also be invigorating.  The challenge of handling all life delicately and treating it with respect.

My day began with a not-so-short 2.5 mile walk with my bike to get the flat tire (here is why it was flathttp://thesummeridaredindc.blogspot.com/2011/05/day-1-museum-marathon.html) fixed on my White Steed.  $130 in lights, extra locks, and other D.C. bicycle necessities later, I pedaled off towards the National Mall.  My first stop was the Bureau of Engraving and Printing.  I remain so very thankful that I did this first; it would have thrown off the spiritual nature of the day had I thrown in it in the middle.  Money.  That’s what that tour was about.  And moving on.

From there I pedaled to the National Archives.  I had no idea what was in store for me.  I had little luck in finding a bike rack, so after having a police officer assure me that it was ok to chain it to anything that was bolted down, I, with my ultra steal proof, new lock, double locked my bike to a Metro stop sign.  I stood in a short line and entered the archives.  It’s amazing how easy it is to get inside these buildings and then once you are in there, it’s a free-for-all.  They stop herding cattle the second you get through security.  I moseyed my way up to the Rotunda. 

Apparently, I’m a rarity and like to read the little sign posts that are placed everywhere as people behind me kept getting annoyed, saying “hey, um, the line is way up there.”  To which I responded “yes, I’m aware, you can go around; I’m reading the information that was placed here for us to read.”

Anyway, after a brief life-threatening speech from an ominous, plump black female security guard, whom I would not want to mess, we were allowed to enter the Rotunda.  I chose to go right since the group was about 50 people and knowing that, for the most, party people break left.  I viewed the letters between John Adams and his wife, as well as some other old artifacts, and of course all the information that was included. 

The left hand side had cleared out, so I made my way over. 

The Declaration of Independence was moving.  It was amazing to see such an old, and history-making item and for it to be so close, albeit behind glass and all sorts of controlled equipment.  However, I would have it no other way, preserve it for as long as possible.

I was floored by the Constitution.  I stood in awe.  Utter and complete awe.    An unwavering awe, an awe that I can’t describe.  So forward I moved, after regaining composure.

The Bill of Rights.  I’m not sure how those around me felt about my behavior, but I was comfortable with it.  Maybe I’m just intoxicated with two days of being a tourist in my Nation's Capitol.  Maybe I really am a lawyer, or becoming one.  Maybe I’m more patriotic than I give myself credit for.  Maybe I feel lucky to be in my life, at this very moment.  Maybe I actually learned something in Criminal Procedure and, now, find it my job now to protect these rights.  These Rights that are right in front of me.  These Rights that were drafted so long ago but still hold true.  These Rights that through our judicial system have afforded us, as citizens, so much individualism and liberty.  These Rights that matter. 

And then a tear.  I did not sob or cause a scene; however, I did tear up and cry.  I initially was not going to share this, but this moment set a course for my day that changed me at some core level.  Or maybe not changed me, as much as illuminated something deep down inside.  Something that I knew was lurking but was unsure of exactly what it was or how to use it.  So I stared, with teary eyes, at the Bill of Rights.  I meditated and briefly thought on all the souls (human and nonhuman see this http://m.apnews.com/ap/db_16026/contentdetail.htm?contentguid=q95c7C0y) who have sacrificed so much, all in the name of what these Rights stand for.  A sacrifice in the name of a greater good.  So there I was with no tissues and bleary eyed, I embraced it and walked away. 

Next, I rode to the Hirshhorn Gallery.  This is the Contemporary Art collection of the Smithsonian.  Again, walking in I had no clue what I was about to undergo.  There were two exhibits in particular.  One by Grazia Toderi and the other by Laurent Grasso; both are a mixed media experience.  They incorporate a visual screen production with music.  I sat and watched Grazia Toderi’s for so long that the security guard ran me off. 

The Grasso exhibit was breathtaking.  The things that you think of when you sit and stare at screen with, what to me, was the sound of wind blowing.  The images change and your thoughts move with the change, it was very natural and surreal, at the same time.  The art was everything it should have been.  The thoughts it inspired may not come to be for a while but something happened in those dark rooms.  Something about the images portrayed, the darkness, the sound, and the solidarity of my experience made some change.  Some idea that is gurgling deep in my soul.  My hope is that I know what to do with it when it starts to boil. 

The images in both exhibits were a combination of sky, nature, and city shots, as well as, an abstract, almost star-like view of what I thought to be city lights.  Yes, you should go experience this, even if you don’t “get” art.

Back to the White Steed I go.  My plan initially was to go to the National Cathedral, however when Google Maps showed me that the International Spy Museum was on the way, I thought I would stop.  Well, then I saw the American Art Museum and ventured in there. 

Seeing an actual Warhol painting was neat, seeing priceless artwork was amazing.  I will be revisiting this place, as there is too much for one viewing.  Literally, four floors of too much.  It is in the old Patent Office Building.  It’s huge.  I stumbled upon some naturalist paintings and was amazed.  Two, in particular, were incredible.  They were so perfect and precise.  Photographs don’t capture life and natural beauty the way these paintings did.  And then I looked down and the date listed for its creation was 1873.  Yeah, I took a step back and continued to stare.

I could not grasp the motion of my day.  The Universe had something in mind and I was just along for the ride, so I strapped in and held on. 

Final stop for the day was the National Cathedral.  After a long huff up a wonderful hill on Massachusetts Avenue, I arrived.  Staring up at that amazing Cathedral humbled me.  Walking around the grounds made me ever more grateful than I have been over the last 24 hours, and I’ve been pretty freaking grateful.  To the front doors I went, I walked inside the main chapel and stood.  That’s all I could do.  The stone and glass, the size, the permanence (and impermanence of the whole structure given time and natural forces), the holiness of the area, the fact that some great men and women have walked down this very same aisle, the fact that this Sunday I can attend if I so choose.  I stared and contemplated.

I hijacked my way onto a tour that was being conducted and found out some interesting facts.  But I broke off, and found a seat in the Chapel, and I sat.  Sat and stared.  Sat and meditated.  Sat and breathed it all in.  Sat and put every good vibe I had and every positive energy of my day into the future, into human rights, into animal rights, into making the world a better place.  Into continuing to be a good person and maybe becoming a great person.

I’m sent here on a mission, I came here as woman of visions.

And like a holy relic
Or a mystery novel
I thumbed them in the dim light
Searching for a clue-
--Regina Spektor

Day 1: Museum Marathon

Four museums, 3 memorials, the Capitol, and the White House.  Day 1: Done! 

I found a few interesting items today.

#1-Phallic rocks at the Natural History Museum

Item #2-Learning about Whale behavior from Jim

No, Jim is not pictured, however, the Discovery Zones at the Smithsonian are not just for kids.  I had a longer attention span than most children and all the Discovery Zone guides loved sharing the knowledge they had.  As well as sharing some pieces that are not often viewed. 

Item #3-I want an Opal.  (No, Mother, do NOT go buy me one.)

The picture does it no justice, but the long rock in the front was incredible.  The longer you look at it the more it came to life.

Item #4-I'll buy the Hooker Yellow Diamond necklace for my friend, Laura, so she can one-up Kate and still be a hooker.

Item #5-Michelle Obama is a stunning woman.  Leaving all politics aside, I admire her grace and beauty.  And here I've been caught up with the Royals since the Engagement of the Century and failed to notice that our own First Lady is an immaculate woman.

This is the dress she wore for the Inaugural Ball, not great in the picture, however, the life-size portrait took my breath away.  And this dress is just beautiful in person.

Item #6-For my Lover, a token helicopter photo.

So this is not so token.  The experience I had here was incredible.  This is a helicopter used during the Vietnam War.  I was behind a man and his granddaughter and he was sharing stories about his experience with this sort of helicopter amongst other items on display.  I couldn't help but listen in and before I knew it he was answering my questions as well. 

Item #7-Puppets make me giggle

Item #8-My Steed at the Capitol

Shortly after this photo I stopped at an ice cream truck and got a water (since I had guzzled my three bottles throughout the day) and an ice cream, of course.  By the way, going through security to go into the Holocaust Museum I had to drink my water to show it was really water, and then dump my water out that was in my Sigg bottle.  I was less then pleased.  The sky to the southwest was looking rather ominous and well, I did not want to be riding a bike in the rain, or the dark for that matter until I get lights for it.  So I convinced myself that I had seen enough for the day, and reminded myself that I'll be here 2 months and there is no need to do it all in one day. 
So I ride off, dodge some traffic, and try to find the least busy street to get north to Rhode Island. Halfway home, a van tries to kill me.  I try to avoid a hospital visit and my back tire took a beating.  So now I have a flat tire, on my second day in D.C..  It's too major for a pump up, so the bike shop is my first order of business in the morning.  Also, I had to push the bike home the last 2 miles; it's hot, glad I live alone because I was smelly when I came in, JUST SAYIN'.

Nothing witty.  Just me being a tourist and utterly intoxicated with this place.  I'm so grateful, so amazed.  I keep wondering "is this real life?"  And "how did I get here?" 

Aside: I start at the Animal Welfare Institute on June 1st so I have a few more days of shameless tourism to partake in.  Maybe I'll walk the dogs to the Capitol and get an iconic "Michelle with her Boys" photo.  On that note, I need to call my stylists and arrange for hair and make-up to make that photo happen.

Cheers!


Oh by the way, Animal Welfare Insitute was up to this today:
Tonight, AWI is testifying (http://bit.ly/kQq4yJ) before the National Park Service in Manassas, VA, chastising the agency for killing deer (http://bit.ly/lKOk2N) & other ungulates in our National Parks rather than employing practical, effective and humane alternatives such as birth control. See what NPS is doing in your area: visit www.nps.gov & enter “deer management” & your local national park in the search box.

http://www.awionline.org/ht/a/GetDocumentAction/i/41237  For further information.
This is done by the direct department I will be working for, so it was pretty exciting to get word of this news and know that I may be working with this in the near future, MAYBE, but still, it's neato.

***Pleaes forgive any punctuation errors.  Spell check was not being my friend this evening.***

Fried Chicken is the most dangerous thing in D.C.

I’ve been in DC less than 4 hours and have figured out that it’s not being raped, or mugged, or murdered but damn fried chicken that scares me the most.  I drove in on Constitution Avenue.  It was a bit surreal to see, and then pass the Lincoln Memorial, the Washington Monument, and the White House.  It was almost as if Google maps had planned the best, albeit confusing and traffic laden, route.  Best route in the sense that one cannot beat passing the White House in their own car, with the dogs in the back on her initial arrival to the Capitol for her soon-to-be epic summer.  

After passing the street that I’ll be living on, not once, but twice, since my iPhone hates me, I pulled up to a quaint row house.  And ironically, it was just as pictured and described in a number of emails, facebook messages, texts, and phone conversations.  I’m not sure why I expected it to be any different, but for whatever reason, I was happily surprised for it be exactly as I thought it would be. 

First item on the agenda was to get in the house and get the dogs out of the car.  That proved to be an easy task.  However, after lugging in 6 trips of my clothes and random “necessities” from the car, I realized that I had not seen either of the dogs for a minute.  I panicked.  No, I FREAKED out.  After searching upstairs and down, I still had no dogs.  Now, this is a small house, the upstairs consists of 3 mostly empty rooms, the downstairs consists of a similar arrangement.  As I’m trying to figure out how they got out the back door, I turn around to see a doorway.  Apparently, there is a whole damn basement that I somehow missed.  I trot down the stairs to find both boys sprawled out on the concrete floor. 

Fried chicken, yeah, moving on.  That’s what this whole thing is about right, how fried chicken is scarier to me than anything else in DC, thus far. 

After perusing the lovely informational letter and maps that my landlord left me, AND a much needed vodka martini, I decided I shall venture out and walk the dogs to acquaint myself with the area and figure out exactly where the places on the map are.  I choose a local park as my goal (I’ll cut to the chase here; I didn’t make it to my goal).  I head out; initially in the wrong direction and after a brief discussion with a gentleman at the end of the street about my “labradoodle” I turn around and go the correct way.  I head down 4^th towards Rhode Island.  (Side note: I told the gentleman that both the boys were Australian shepherds, however, after the 6^th mention of my labradoodle, I conceded and said “why, YES, sir, Gandolf is a labradoodle.  He sheds a little though; maybe he has some other mix that I don’t know about.”)

So DC is busy.  The sidewalks are narrow, and uneven, and god forbid you walk into a crosswalk prior to the “walk” signal.  And when I say uneven, I mean, as in 6 inches of uneven.  And people do everything on sidewalks, you name it: ride bikes, stand, mingle, chat, skateboard, walk dogs, drink, eat, play cards, blog, text, drink coldbeers.

Speaking of eating, apparently LOTS of people enjoy fried chicken in this part of DC.  I figured this out for a couple of reasons.  First, I passed a Popeye’s within the first 3 blocks of leaving the house, along with a “soul food” restaurant (right next door to the liquor store I might add), and then another 3 blocks away, a hot wing joint, where you can get your wings battered and fried, or naked, as well has having your watch repaired while you wait for your chicken to fry.  Second, well, that brings me to why fried chicken is so scary. 

I think I made it 12^th and that’s when the fried chicken attacked.  After crossing the street, after dutifully waiting for the signal, a gentleman was eating on the sidewalk.  The boys were interested, for obvious reasons.  So as a good dog owner, I pulled their leashes in and kept them close to me, one dog on each side.  After getting to a wider part of the sidewalk, I let them have some leash length.  They both dart for the grass, bury their noses in the grass weeds; Gandolf growls, Strauss emerges with something in his mouth.  I immediately stick my fingers down his throat and in his jaws and remove a chicken leg bone with the fried batter still on the ends of it.  Sheesh, I wipe my forehead and think, “well, that was a close one, I don’t even know where a vet is and well, bones splinter and that could have been bad had Strauss swallowed or eaten the damn thing.” 

So the walk continues, at this point we are headed back, the idea of getting to the park long abandoned.  An ambulance and no less than 6 police cars pass, all with sirens and lights flashing.  Now, for most dog owners this should be no big deal, for the owner of a slightly neurotic deaf dog, this was a challenge, no I’m not going to be positive about this experience, it was a damn nightmare.  Gandolf darts, on his 4 foot leash, taking my left arm with him.  My left shoulder socket, body, and, then, Strauss follow in suit, jerked by the infamous White Dog.  Strauss lets out a mild yelp as his brother dislocates Strauss’s head and neck.  Gandolf stops his dart 5 or 6 feet away and then begins to run in circles around my feet, tail tucked, ears back, junkyard dog style, crouched down.  I try to calm him by reaching to pet him, he sees my arm and darts in the other direction.  Now, however, my feet are wrapped in his 4 feet of leash, I subsequently crash to the sidewalk pavement, hitting my elbow on the root laden concrete.  As I turn around to try and see if Gandolf has chewed through his leash and darted into traffic, I look up to see Gandolf laying, ever so regally, on the sidewalk at the end of what is left of his 4 foot leash that is not tangled around my now bare  feet, as my flipflops were long ago flopped off in the whole ordeal.  The stupid, albeit lovely, dog is laying there, staring at me, with an inquisitive stare perhaps pondering, “why the hell is she laying on the sidewalk?” 

So I grumble and untangle the leash.  Fetch my flips flops and trying to remain positive, ‘forward ho’ I go.  I only walked 30 minutes in the one direction, so I should be 15-20 minutes from my house at this point.  The three of us wait at a cross walk and as we are crossing, I see Strauss chewing on something.  I, like an idiot, and because I’m concerned for what the hell he has found, bend over, IN THE MIDDLE OF THE TURNING LANE OF THE CROSSWALK, and reach in Strauss’s mouth to remove the contraband.  Upon removal, I look in my hand to find the remnants of a fried chicken leg bone.  I then look up to find the hood emblem of a Chrysler minivan, and realize my mistake and run for the safety of the sidewalk.  Heart racing, chicken bone still in hand, I wipe my brow and wonder what was I thinking.  Two blocks later I finally unclench my hand and inspect the chicken bone, he got further along on this one, but it appears that I removed most of the bone from his mouth, and throat.  I toss it into the grass behind us and move on. 

Now, I’m only 2 turns and 2 blocks from my house, the boys are tired as they are no longer pulling on the leashes and actually acting like they have some manners.  I march through a pile of men, who are shootin' da shit on the sidewalk, and think “well, that was an interesting walk, maybe I should take them separately for a few days and get them used to the busy city.”  I glance down and AGAIN Strauss has something in his mouth.  At this point I don’t even try to open his jaws, I just stick my hand in his mouth and remove yet another chicken leg bone.  I want to scream.  At this point, I want to stab the person who eats chicken, and then throws it on the sidewalk.  I literally want to turn around and go back to the pile o’ men, who are shootin' da shit, and ask them to not throw the damn bones on the sidewalk.  In my frustration I throw the bone towards the street this time, and as I do so a car drives by, the bone hits the car and bounces back onto the sidewalk 3 feet in front of the boys and I.  Strauss and I race for it, I barely win and as I do, I must have let out some form of frustration yell because as I grab it and walk back to place it in the trashcan, the guys that are shootin' da shit are staring me.  One of the men in the group says “damn, that white girl be crazy, MOFO.  What you been smokin’, yo?  Cuz I want a piece o’ that shit, bitch.” 

Thus, I find it doubtful that anything poses a greater risk to me in DC, at this moment, than fried chicken. 

Endnote: I made it home with no further catastrophes.  However, tomorrow is a new day.