to love my profession. This photo was taken on the ramparts of Fort Washington.
The first fort was completed in 1809 but was destroyed in 1814 by the resident garrison. (Bunch of dummies) Less than two weeks later Major Pierre Charles L'Enfant began reconstructing the fort. Colonel Armistead would replace L'Enfant as construction supervisor a few years later completing fort deux in 1824.
During the Civil War Union troops manned the fort which overlooks the Capital. The fort was never threatened by CSA forces and stands, relatively uncompromised, as it did in the 1860s.
Today Fort Washington is managed by The National Park Service. Although the fort is undergoing extensive restoration, the park is open to the public. Deer roam the grounds freely as couples walk their dogs in one of Washington's best known secrets. The photo above is a testament of its beauty.
Professor Overholt, my UMD professor, scheduled a field trip to the fort several weeks ago. (Thanks again Erin for the ride!) The purpose of our class was to examine the brickwork on the arch, ramparts and other buildings under reconstruction at the fort. Man's (meaning men and women) capabilites and achievements never cease to amaze me. Fort Washington, in my opinion, is an engineering miracle and worthy of a visit for those interested. Even if you're not interested in brickwork and bonding patterns who could miss a sunset like this?

My new favorite song for laughs

Last Saturday my American Studies 280.10 class met in Annapolis to study colonial brickwork. This was my first visit to Maryland's capital, so needless to say, I was excited.
Rising at 6am to meet Eric and Joey at 9 was not my idea of fun but it totally paid off. One hour later as we entered the Maryland State House we encountered a tour group of cadets from the Naval Academy. Immediately Joey and I grab our mirrors and apply lipstick. Lipstick makes everyone look better, right? I think my professor noticed because he desparately tried to steer clear of the cadets for the remainder of the morning.
As you can see, Orlando was not entirely successful. Ladies, meet Edwards, Class of 2009. Yep, you guessed it. He's 19 years young, if not younger. However, the way some of those cadets look at you, you would never know they were 19.
For instance. As we were waiting patiently for the cadet tour to leave the old Senate Chamber so we could review its architectural elements the cadets began to file in the room we were waiting. This forced us to line up and exit past the very men we were trying to avoid. Anyway, the oldest cadet, I am assuming he was the oldest because he was giving the tour which made him even hotter, gave me this look as I passed. Now, you see what I'm wearing. I looked horrible. However, this kid had the most intense look on his face. It was so sexy, I can't even describe it. Let's just say, I, a woman ten years his senior, blushed and grinned in a way I haven't in a long time. He wasn't the only one that made me blush. At the end of the group was the cutest cadet of them all. French blonde (meaning he had blonde hair and brown eyes), tall, slightly tan with the cutest smile ever. When he smiled at me I nearly fell over. I felt so pathetic. What is wrong with me? I think it must be the uniforms. There is no other explanation for it.
At the end of the day we retired to Orlando's porch which overlooks this amazing garden to the rear of the home. The porch, we learned has a reputation in Annapolis, because 43 cadets have proposed to their girlfriends on the very steps where we sat. (Future husband take note) Professor Ridout even has a painting, done by the previous owner of the home, a Naval officer, of a sailor proposing to his girlfriend on that porch. So romantic. Did I mention I love men in uniform? Oh yeah, and my dad was in the Navy?
Promising Beth, another student in the class, I would not take photos of the cadets I waited all day to get sneak a shot. Just before leaving Annapolis, Joey, Eric and I ran into Edwards, Class 2009. He wasn't the cutest cadet I encountered but he was nice enough. Eric thinks he has a nice smile and Joey thinks he has perfect teeth. He seemed annoyed that I requested a photo. No matter. I got what I wanted. The day was wonderful and I am totally in love with Annapolis. There are so many things I still want to do there that I can't wait to return.
Anchors Away, My Boys, Anchors Away!

Your Hillbilly Name Is...

Penny Sue Hill

I felt like doing this on the blog. Don't know why. Perhaps I just want humanity to have a record of how much I love you. :) Or I just want it in our blog. That way you'll never lose it!

Tonight I'm listening to my music, cleaning my room and thinking about what comes next. Whatever it is, it means change. Mostly in our location and physical distance from each other. That's a hard thing for me to consider because I love having you in my life.

We met when I was a broken, mess of a person and you loved me anyway. Thank you. You're my perfect foil. Who knew a bathroom fan could start all this?

I want you to know that no matter where I go in the world and my life, I'll carry you and the mark of this friendship with me. It may sound like an 'ending' but I don't think it is. I think that I've changed for the better by knowing you. You're so strong, beautiful and smart. And I think we'll be friends the rest of our lives.

I just want you to know that I don't ever take you for granted, even when it seems like I do. :) I know that friendship, like marriage, is a daily committment and we have to fight to keep it on track and good. (even if they are easy fights.)

I don't think I would have gotten through Aly, my birthday, Rina leaving or this relationship w/ B. w/o you. You're the cornerstone of my sanity. And even bearing that weight, you've managed to move forward in your own education and edification. And you're still sane! That's freakin' amazing! And it shows that you keep it real.

I thought, the other day, about the poem I gave to Aly. My mind wandered and I wondered what poems I would have for differnt people. For you, I knew instantly. So here, my love, is your poem. I hope you believe it because I do.


Pretty women wonder where my secret lies
I'm not cute or built to suite a fashion model's size
But when I start to tell them,
They think I'm telling lies.
I say,
It's in the readh of my arms
The spand of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.
I say,
It's the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can't touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them
They say they still can't see.
I say,
It's in the arch of my back,
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my breasts,
The grace of my style.
I'm a woman.

Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman, that's me.

Now you understand
Just why my head's not bowed.
I don't shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It's in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,
the palm of my hand,
The need of my care,
'Cause I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Every morning during my 25 minute commute I read the Washington Post Express. This morning I found an article of interest and thought I would share the contents with you.
I have looked at pictures of the Mona Lisa many times. I have even seen her in the Louvre. However, I never noticed the hint of shawl she is wearing around her shoulders. One reason this detail may have escaped me and countless others is I did not realize it had a meaning or was of import.
This morning's article stated the mesh-like white shawl, which you can barely see a trace of, is an indication the woman was expecting a child. Leonardo's model, the Mona Lisa, was pregnant. For fellow Da Vinci Code fans, this makes perfect sense and is very exciting.
Now that I examine the photo more closely, notice how her hands are positioned. They are resting on her stomach. My pregnant girlfriends often place their hands on their tummys in like manner. So exciting!
Another exciting event relating to pregnancy is --I finally felt a baby kick inside its mother's tummy. I am 28 years old and the first time I have ever felt a baby move was Wednesday morning. It was the coolest experience ever and it totally made my otherwise not so great day; that and Project Runway.
Listening to Leslie talk about her labor strategy I felt total awe. Pregnant women are the most courageous people I know. Honestly, I can't imagine ever going through labor. Its not that I don't want to have children. I do. Its just a little scary thinking about a seven, eight, nine, ten, etc., etc., pound, did you read pound (?), baby come out of you. Agh! But, if other women can do it so can I. Thank goodness I can enjoy others children until my time. :)
While I am on the subject of babies I want to congratulate my former mission companion Sister Youngs who is now expecting her second baby. She sent me a copy of the ultrasound, which I will not post here, you can thank me later, which shows they are having a male child. Chris, Alisha's husband, is very excited because the doctor said their son is "like a horse." Yeah.
Then there is Lisa, a former roommate from BYU, who recently discovered her bun in the oven. Congratulations Lisa! You are living proof that Heavenly Father does answer prayers.
So while everyone else is out there having fun making babies I am still a single student who has nothing new to share on the Temple Square Mission website but continues to enjoy hearing that everyone who served before and after her is getting married or having children. Here's to graduate school and the hope that someday this Mona Lisa will have a reason to smile.

So! As some of you know I'm dating a fantastic guy who is divorced and has two children. Recently I've taken to reading "self-help" books about parenting in blended families. You shouldn't mistake this for an engagement announcement. It's not. But in StephanieLand you prepare for possibilities. Even the slim ones. Mostly the fat ones, though, because those are favored in my land.

I'm off track. Returning to the topic of StepMotherHood. As I started to think about embarking on this journey I had a wonderful picture in my head. I would saunter in on the arm of the man I love. I would pat him on the shoulder, walk to his ex-wife and we would have an amazing, civilized, compassionate discussion about rearing the children together. This encounter would eventually breed harmony in both homes and we would work as a great big, loving team to produce stellar, intelligent WunderKids.

My book says I'm nuts. Oh. And all the rest of the research I'm reading agrees.

Basically it tells me that StepMotherHood is going to be a long, long, long, long process of patience, kindness and calm in the face of horrible brattiness. And if anything else happens, I'm damn lucky.

Honestly? It's not the most encouraging picture of my future I can think of. But! I refuse to be daunted by something as trivial as reality.

Here's what I want to know, our four readers--1) are you the product of a blended family? 2) What was the biggest mistake your StepParent made? 3) What was the best decision your StepParent made?

Anyone? Anyone? I don't really mind who comments on this. I just want to see if people will be willing to share so that I garner s'more tips.

until now. I HATE organic pumpkin butter. It is disgusting. It doesn't get any better either when you put it on bread with peanut butter, like preserves, its still disgusting.
This is really disappointing and blows my former proclamation ("I love anything pumpkin") out of the water, because now, I don't.
Where this love of pumpkin originates I have no idea BUT I can tell you when it began; while I was a student at BYU. Great Harvest makes this pumpkin chocolate chip bread that's to die for. Anyway, every fall I would buy a loaf and eat one piece of bread with hot chocolate every evening before going to bed. It was my comfort food and is one explanation behind my current killer figure.
THEN I discovered pumpkin chocolate chip cookies. These were equally delicious and easier to buy replacing the Great Harvest bread.
LATER store-bought pumpkin chocolate chip cookies were abandoned for homemade, yes I do bake, Lehi Roller Mills cookie mix. These are my all time favorites. My fingers are itching to place my Fall 2006 order but I'm trying to exercise self-control. Too much of a good thing is not always good.
Pumpkin bread and cookies is just the tip of the iceberg folks. My pumpkin love extends to soups, seeds, pie, cheesecake, etc. For instance, the best pumpkin soup I have ever enjoyed is on the menu at an Italian restaraunt at Federal Triangle. Can't remember the name but its absolutely divine.
I even have a nickname relating to pumpkin. My mother is the only one who is EVER allowed or EVER WILL BE ALLOWED to utter the name. Its pumpkin doo-doo. Yep, MY mother calls me pumpkin doo-doo and that's on a good day. For years I have been trying to imagine what pumpkin doo-doo would look like but I think the answer is a mystery I will never solve. I have theories but I will spare you.
So with the advent of fall and October quickly approaching I thought my recent experience with pumpkin butter would be a good way to usher in the season. If anyone is interested in taking a jar off my hands, it's yours.

Since returning from my mission I have served in a variety of church callings. The calling I cherish more than any other was my position as an instructor in Relief Society (RS). Through this calling I was able to develop friendships with other women I believe will be eternal. I felt loved and nurtured in a way I don't in my current RS. Don't get me wrong. I still enjoy RS but somehow the atmosphere is different or maybe I'm different.

Last night I was able to attend the annual General RS broadcast at the Stake Center. Prior to the broadcast Brother and Sister Proctor shared a photo presentation on President Hinckley, (pictured in the photo left).

People often fault me for having a bad attitude about men and rightly so. However, there are a few men in this world I consider to be worthy of respect and admiration. My dad, is obviously one, President Hinckley and members of the church presidency are others.

Behind every good man is an equally exceptional woman. The Proctors also showed photos of Marjorie Hinckley, the prophet's wife, last night. Seeing this couple together, who have since been separated by death, was a poignant reminder of how powerful romantic love can be. Although I never had the privilege of seeing the prophet while serving on Temple Square, I did see his wife. We have a tradition on Temple Square for departing Sisters. The last evening as a missionary, Sisters are treated to what we refer to as "the last supper." For my MTC group this was a catered dinner, in a private conference room of the Joseph Smith Memorial Building (JSMB). One of my fondest memories of the evening was the view. I have a thing for views. The conference room was surrounded by large glass windows, enabling one to see the Salt Lake Valley for miles. Seated at the table my view was of the Hinckley's apartment. Always trying to get a view of the prophet I looked for signs of activity through their apartment windows. Half-way through dinner I looked up and saw Marjorie Hinckley washing dishes. I have never forgotten that experience and continue to cherish it.

I'm not sure why but last night as I saw photo after photo of the prophet I was so touched. It has been some time since I've felt my heart soften. Since last night, I have tried to blame it on PMS or my sinus infection (I often become more emotional when I am PMSing or under the weather) but I think it was more than that. In fact, every time I see President Hinckley I feel peace. This is one reason I enjoy listening to him speak or learning about his life. Through his example he quietly inspires me to become a better person. I believe this is one of the many reasons people travel long distances or give up Saturday evening activities to see him. The Lord says, "By their fruits ye shall know them," and President Hinckley yields "good fruit." In forty weeks, under his leadership the Temple Department of the Church designed and constructed fifty temples. This is remarkable considering the time period it took to construct the first fifty. This is only one of his many accomplishments.

Following the presentation the Sisters were invited to enjoy refreshments (most Mormons love to eat) and mingle prior to the broadcast. During the fifteen minutes we had to grab food and our food storage bags, yes they handed out paper sacks filled with wheat, I was able to see and speak to Sisters I had not seen in a long time. One of these Sisters was pregnant. She is due in five weeks and is expected to have a baby girl. It was so nice to be among so many women who share beliefs similar to my own. Since moving to this area I have not felt like this was my home. Last night, however, I finally felt like I belong here; like I have roots here.

The theme of the broacast was entitled, "Encircled in the Arms of His love," taken from a passage in 2 Nephi (Book of Mormon). As each member of the RS Presidency spoke I felt an increase of love for the Lord and my fellow Sisters. I was reminded how much I truly appreciate this program and the way it continues to bless me with good friends.

The broadcast's concluding speaker was President Hinckley. It was the perfect conclusion to the evening. His comments to the women of the church were tender and inspiring as they always are. I am so thankful there are some men out there who truly comprehend the importance of women and their contribution to society. I wish more women, inside and outside, the Church were treated with the respect and appreciation they deserve. I hope I can meet a man one day who admires and respects me like President Hinckley loved and cherished his wife. At 95, the prophet continues to bless the lives of members throughout the world. Is it any wonder we sing, "We Thank the Oh God for a Prophet."

Just in case you were wondering Rae:
Red Anne Rackham

"Passion is a big part of your life, which makes sense for a pirate. You have the good fortune of having a good name, since Rackham (pronounced RACKem, not rack-ham) is one of the coolest sounding surnames for a pirate. Arr!"
Actually my real surname is even cooler; KIDD.
Capt'n William Kidd was a famous pirate in the 17th century. Don't believe me? This site is one of many you will find on Google http://www.piratesinfo.com/biography/biography.php?article_id=36.
This may explain my defensive nature. Eh?
Admiral Isaac Campbell Kidd was on the USS Arizona December 7, 1941 when it was attacked by Japanese war planes.
My dad, Donny Lee Kidd was a sailor on the USS Independence during the Vietnam War.
And this Kidd, prefers to sail the seas peacefully; preferably with a boating instructor named George.

Most mothers decorate their baby girls rooms in pastels. However, my mother chose bright colors, particularly red, blue, and yellow to decorate my nursery. My theory is she was holding out for a male child. She wanted to give my dad a son so badly she endured labor again so she could. My father was so excited my mom was having an "heir" he bought her a Gunnysak dress, which we still have and I wear 26 years later.
To compliment the bright colored sheets, baby blankets and clown wall hanging (I HATE CLOWNS) my mom also gave me a Winnie the Pooh bear, which she later sold at a yard sale along with my Ronald McDonald doll. I will never forgive her for either.
To fill the Pooh void in my life, the summer before my Senior year in High School I bought current Pooh (photo left) from the Disney store for my 17th birthday. I consider this to be one of the most ingenious investments I have ever made for several reasons.
Pooh is the best listener ever! He has been through everything with me and through it all he just smiles.
There are mascara smears all over his butt a result of a decade of disappointments. He has been the most consistent and comfortable bedfellow I have ever had. In fact, when you turn Pooh upside down and sleep on his butt he makes the perfect pillow. This also explains the mascara stains on his backside.
Pooh has been just about everywhere I have been; traveling to UT, KY, GA, FL, DC you name it. If I've been Pooh has too. He doesn't even need a car seat. He can actually wear a seat belt which makes him toddler Pooh; not baby Pooh.
So why am I blogging about Pooh? Well, two weeks ago we reached a milestone in our relationship. After ten years of being with Pooh I gave him a bath. I know the thought of sleeping with something for ten years without putting it in the wash is pretty disgusting but I was really worried something bad would happen if I did. You know, maybe his stuffing would come out or maybe his hair would fall out. You never know. So I waited. TEN YEARS. No one is ever allowed to refer to me as impatient EVER again.
Anyway, as the photo depicts Pooh is looking and smelling better than ever. He did such a good job throughout the wash and dry cycles that I couldn't resist bragging about it. Instead of being Dirty Old Bear, as Christopher Robin always said, Pooh is back to being just a, "Silly Old Bear."

...my guy was starting his own. I'm so happy for you, sweetheart.

Hugs and Kisses.

This summer has been the summer of baseball. I have attended baseball games more this summer than any other in my lifetime. Please don't misunderstand. I LOVE baseball. I always have.
When my brother and I were kids we would sit on the front porch for hours looking at all his baseball cards. Both of us played on little league teams, with Joshie always being the superior athlete. Josh loved Mark McGuire and the Oakland A's while I rooted for the Braves.
Although the baseball cards are packed away and Josh has abandoned sports altogether I still enjoy watching baseball live.
I'll never forget my first professional baseball game. I grew up in Kentucky so Riverfront Stadium (Cincinnati Reds) was the closest venue to see a "real" game. I don't remember who we played but I remember how excited I felt looking down on the field for the first time. No matter how old one becomes, I don't think you could ever be too old to enjoy baseball. I think its one of those experiences that makes you "feel" young. Is it any wonder Americans have adopted it as their favorite "pastime?"
Tonight Steph, Hugh, Rae, Erin and I went to the Nationals v Braves game. This makes the third time I have seen the Nats play the Braves at RFK this summer. All I can say is the Braves fans didn't go home happy. The way I look at it I win either way when these teams play against each other. As the photo above depicts we had a great time with Steph scoring seats just behind home plate in section 312.
Rae is also very crafty at getting great tickets. For example, we spent several innings, this evening, watching the game in M-51 just behind the left fielder. The two of us abandonded the predominately Braves niche to find Steph, Hugh and Erin mid-way through the game. This proved a wise decision because I was able to get a few great photos of the racing Presidents.
Although George usually wins, tonight first went to Lincoln. Congratulations Abe!
With fall just around the corner and school becomming increasingly demanding, I am not sure I will be able to attend another game this season. I would like to imagine I will be in DC next summer but who knows? This time next year I could be living in a different city cheering for a different home team. One thing that's comforting about baseball-- No matter where you are there will always be a 7th inning stretch with a crowd singing "Take Me Out to the Ballgame."

I heard this on IMF this morning and I believe I'm in love. And! It falls into my strange penchant for loving "Music related to lesbians."

Remember is the most important word in the English dictionary, I have been told and I believe its true. I wanted to post this yesterday but was unable. I hope my feelings about this experience do justice to your memory.
My best friend, Stephanie, emailed me your name a few weeks ago and requested I write a tribute to you on our blog. Excited about the project I enthusiastically agreed. However in the pre-semester rush I neglected to do as promised. Yesterday, on the five year anniversary of that fateful day, I remembered...You.
You, Timothy Robert Hughes, led an amazing life. You had a loving wife (Karen), two handsome sons (Tim and Ken) and a beautiful daughter (Chrissy) who love and continue to remember you everyday. I was grateful to see several websites dedicated to your memory. I think one of my greatest fears is that those I love will forget me. That somehow my memory or memories I made with them will become unimportant or meaningless. That is one thing, Timothy, you will never have to worry about.
Newsday.com had this to say about you:
For Timothy Robert Hughes, a currency trader with Cantor Fitzgerald, the significant pleasures of life focused on two very basic things - family and work.
"He was a real family man," said his wife, Karen Hughes. "He was also the type of guy who if it snowed, he would stay in the city so he didn't miss work. He was totally dedicated to both.
"Timothy worked hard and he played hard," said his wife, adding that he coached his two teenage sons in different sports and was preparing to do the same for his younger daughter. "He even taught Timothy, our oldest son, to play golf. Every weekend they would be out on the links."
Reading this, I can't help but compare your relationship to Timothy with my relationship to my dad. My dad and I also enjoy playing golf. On a recent trip home my dad and I spent some time at the driving range. Knowing you enjoyed the game with your son makes me appreciate the time I had with my dad even more.
Hughes, 43, earned both his undergraduate and MBA degrees from Scranton University in Pennsylvania. After college, he went on to hold a number of jobs in the financial field. At one point, he worked for several firms at the Philadelphia Stock Exchange.
One of Hughes' favorite pastimes was renovating homes the family lived in. "Out of the four homes we owned, he supervised renovation and restoration of three of them," his wife explained. This includes their current home, a seven- bedroom, 1903 house in Madison, N.J., which was awarded a historic preservation award from the township last year, and their preceding home, a 200-year old farmhouse in Cherry Hill, N.J.
Obviously handy with tools, Hughes' current home had a carriage house, "which had a workshop with every kind of power tool you could think of," his wife said.
I have to admit I had mixed emotions about this bit of information. I think you would be happy to know I am also an advocate for the preservation of historic structures. I am an American Studies/ Historic Preservation MA candidate at The George Washington University. My dream is to do what you did; purchase older homes and restore them. I can't help but wonder if things had turned out differently that day, five years ago, would we have met? Perhaps on a project or consulting for a small town in NJ? Who knows?
They say things happen for a reason. I am not sure I believe that but this experience has renewed my faith in that belief somewhat. I could have been assigned any name but I was given yours. I don't think it is coincidental, given the few number of preservationists, that I was given you.
The article says you were working on the 104th floor of Tower One when a hikacked plane slammed into the structure. I am not sure if I have ever been in Tower One.
A long time ago, my sixth grade year, I took a trip to NYC for Girl Scouts. The first site we visited during our stay was the WTC. I remember the long elevator ride to the observation level where we looked out on the "city of lights." I remember being in awe. I was this young girl from eastern Kentucky who had never been in a city with a substantial population before. I instantly fell in love. I can't imagine what views you enjoyed from your office window. It must have been incredible to look out over the city every morning and then again each night as the lights came on.
You were only 43 years old when you were taken from your family. I constantly grouch, "Life isn't fair," and your passing only strengthens my arguement. Although you perished on 9.11. your family and friends held out hope. You were confirmed dead on 9.25.2001.
I am 28 years old. I often wonder what the future holds for me. Tim, if I live half the life you lived, I think it will be pretty wonderful. To have a beautiful, loving family, to work in a profession I love and serve others, to be remembered after I leave this life as a kind, honest, hard-working woman who was devoted to her work and family will be enough.
Tim, your memory, this experience, has renewed my determination to Live. To enjoy my work more, to serve more, to appreciate my loved ones more and to renew my hope for a future family. Thank you for your life and the memories you left. I will remember.

I got to work early this morning, before the sun rose. That part is the "adventure" that makes it ok to use this blog. I realized how much I love the sunrise on Sept 12. I usually get to see it and this morning was as glorious as usual.

It's the first truly clear day since I've worked at my new company. I've discovered that you can see for miles. In fact, I can see the spires of the National Cathedral from where I am in VA. This is going to be a very good day.

*insert cheesy rendition of "Morning After" here*

On the last full day of my visit to KY my dad, brother and I decided to drive down to Renfroe Valley for the 1939 Barn Dance. This show is offered daily in the "old" barn which is located adjacent to the "new" barn. My brother and I were the youngest persons in the room, besides two girls who may have been in high school. Sitting four rows from the stage we were able to get some pretty cool photos for my dad, (see photo on left) who is a Bluegrass aficionado.

Although he enjoys some contemporary "Bluegrass" artists like Allison Krauss, my dad prefers the "old timey" stuff. "Old Timey,"means lyrics normal people have never even heard of or would think to write. Precious Memories, my Grandpa Kidd's personal favorite, is a crucial element of any road trip with my dad, especially if that road leads to West Virginia.
The West Virginia state song is another. Occassionally even I will join in as he sings,"Oh those West Virgina hills how majestic and how grand With their summits bathed in glory like our Prince Emmanuel's land Is it any wonder then That my heart with rapture thrills As I stand once more with loved ones On those West Virginia hills?
Chorus: Oh, the hills, beautiful hills, How I love those West Virginia hills! If o'er sea o'er land I roam Still I'll think of happy home And my friends among the West Virginia hills."
There are three more verses but including them in this blog would be a little over the top. However, I invite, even encourage you, to investigate on your own.
For those of you who have had the pleasure of hearing me sing, in all my tone-deaf glory, you haven't heard anything until you have attended the Kidd family reunion in Mare's Creek (KY) hollow (pronounced hollar). To help you further appreciate this experience, imagine me belting out Journey and then multiply that by 100. Yeah, its not pretty but its authentic. We are the real deal when it comes to Bluegrass gospel singing. We got more twang than that Canadian, Shania Twain could ever have.
The 1939 Barn Dance at Renfroe Valley is the closest my dad gets to going home. Since retiring his trips to the "Valley" have become more frequent. As a teenager I would roll my eyes and pout like any true princess when my dad would turn the station to bluegrass. Now, I just enjoy watching him.
Another aspect I have come to appreciate about Bluegrass music is the attire. Many of you are already aware of my fixation on the glasses-bowtie combo. The Barn Dance reminded me of another combo that really turns me on. Glasses and overalls. I have no idea what it is about overalls but I love them. LOVE THEM. Just like bowties and glasses not all men can pull this combo off. I have found, during my years of observation, that tall men are about the only ones that can pull off the overalls. Well, I guess that's not entirely true (wicked grin) but you know what I mean. I have included an example of this combo in the photo above. The banjo picker was not someone I would normally be attracted to but the combo definitely increased his chances. He was also authentic which I found, oddly enough, HOT!
Plans have already been made for a Christmas visit to the "Valley," where we will enjoy more pickin' and Bluegrass sangin'. Needless to say, I can hardly wait.

As many of my friends know I don't own a television. Although many people are appaled by this, I don't think its a big deal. During past semesters my graduate work and full-time position with Museum Studies left little time for additional activities. Now that my hours have been reduced to ten per week and I am going to school full-time I have more time to exercise. One of the wonderful things about my new apartment is the gym. Every piece of equipment, excluding the free weights, has a built-in tv screen with cable tv. It is fabulous. I can watch vh1, CNN and all the movies I want while exercising.
Two evenings in a row, I was able to catch the middle of Two Weeks Notice with Sandra Bullock and Hugh Grant. Dying to see the beginning and the conclusion I purchased the dvd while I was in Kentucky and watched it with my dad.
I couldn't help but notice the main characters were named George Wade (Hugh Grant) and Lucy (Sandra Bullock).
The movie was terrific, by the way. I recommend it to all those rom-com lovers out there. I especially enjoyed Lucy's plug for historic preservation.
The fact the hero and heroines names were George and Lucy made me think of another movie I absolutely adore. In A Room With a View, the main characters are George Emerson and Lucy Honeychurch. I have blogged about their story before. A photo from the movie is shown below. Discovering this connection initiated thoughts about other movies I really enjoy. Imagine my surprise when I remembered George Bailey (James Stewart), photo above, is the hero of It's A Wonderful Life while Lucy (Drew Barrymore) is the sweetheart of 50 First Dates.

So why are the names Lucy and George so popular in movies and books? I have always been fascinated by the origin and meaning of names. Lucy is Latin and means light. George, rather dull in comparison, means farmer. I suppose there is a connection between the names though. A farmer can't survive without light.

What's even more bizarre is this: My father rarely calls me by my first name. He has always referred to me as Lucy Locket. When I was fifteen he bought me a horse named Lucy. I just have this weird affinity to the name Lucy.

Although I have never dated a George I did have the hots for a sailboat instructor named George. I thought JFK, jr was a hottie and he had a magazine name George. I attend George Washington University. I love all male characters named George. I think George Clooney and George Stephanopoulos are hotties. I was born in Georgia which was named after King George. I love the cartoon Curious George. The list is endless.

So this is my theory. I just need to find someone named George or nicknamed George and date them. This must be the key to a long and successful relationship that I have searching for. So if anyone knows a George out there feel free to send him my way. I am dying to test my theory.

There are thousands of ways to feel loved and I've discovered a new one. We were in the car in Seattle and he says to me, "I saw this place I think you're going to like. More importantly, I think it will give you a great blog."

Awwwwww! Now that's affection!

So began my visit to this fine establishment. Now, be you warned, most reading this post should not click on that link. But for the rest of you, Where Has This Place BEEN all my life? I've been planning bridal showers for ages and I could have used a cake or two!

Overall it was just a fun, clean shop in a cute area of Seattle. The only thing I regret about the visit is that I didn't buy BondGirl a blue, penis water bottle.

"Um Boy," is usually my intial reaction to swallowing a big helpin' of humble pie. Man, there's nothing like being reminded of how old you are and I'm NOT even old.
On the evening of Day Two, Daddy and I went to the Gibson Bay driving range. Please keep in mind, although I played golf for the Madison Southern Lady Eagles (my high school) I haven't played a round of golf since then (eleven years). This means I haven't been to the driving range in a decade. That's a long time.
I used to love spending all day by the pool and all evening at the driving range. My mom and I would buy two or three large baskets (about 100 balls a piece) and hit for hours. Needless to say, I became good friends with Shawn, a guy who worked at the driving range. He used to come out and chat with me. Occassionally he would practice his "Happy Gilmore" swing which always made me laugh.
Shawn is no longer there, thank goodness some things change. One thing that had not changed was the range. It still looked the same. The viewshed was exactly as it was ten years ago. It was so chilly in Kentucky I had to wear my dad's windbreaker. Although it was misting I was determined to smack the crap out of some balls if it was the last thing I did. Let me tell you something, ladies, there is nothing quite as satisfying as a good evening at the driving range.
Although it had been ten years since my last visit it didn't take long to get back into "the swing of things." The best part of the evening was impressing my dad. He is the guru of golf. He loves it. He always has. He started caddying at 8 to make extra money for his family. Since then, every weekend I can remember Dad is either watching or playing golf.
He always wanted me to become a golfer. He put me in golf camps when I was a kid and then I played for my high school team. I always love it when he says, "You're just like your momma. She was such a natural. She had the most beautiful swing."
After two hours, a hundred balls, and a putting green later Dad and I decided to throw in the towel for the evening. By bedtime I was popping the extra strength Tylenol, hoping the pain shooting through my back and left forearm would subside. Realizing my body was unaccustomed to exercising those muscles made me realize just how out of shape I am. The eliptical is fantastic but it isn't the be all and end all of working out; obviously.
So if anyone is up for an evening at the range I would love to tag along because, really, who can get enough of humble pie?

Who would have guessed I would find a cut-out of Ms Knowles in a Richmond, Kentucky Wal-Mart? Not me.
This photo was taken by my very willing but confused father (not bad Dad) on the first day of my "Roots" vacay.
Enjoy!

Last Thursday my mother accepted a job offer from Johns Hopkins University to be a pediatric research nurse on a Apache/Navajo Indian reservation in Navajo, New Mexico. Plan A was: drive out tonight and arrive in New Mexico sometime Wednesday. In true Janice, (that's my mother's name and she hates it) fashion, she didn't leave as planned. Plan B: she will begin the journey west tomorrow. We'll see if this actually happens.
She also received a job offer to teach LPNs at a small community college in St Petersburg, FL today. I patiently reminded her that she hates Florida and would prefer to work with Navajo babies instead of young women who can actually talk back to her in a language she can understand.
The JH position is perfect, almost too good to be true. They are furnishing her with a house ten minutes from the reservation. She will be living in a town; population 900. Needless to say, there is not much to do out there but that's perfect for my Mom because all she does is read anyway.
My Mom has always loved Native American cultures. When we were kids she would buy us books about Native Americans or sit with us on the couch and flip through National Geographics, always admiring the different regalia worn by tribal dancers or the pinwheel hairstyles of young Hopi women. I inherited her love of and fascination for their cultures. This is one reason I minored in Native American Studies at BYU and took every opportunity to visit the Navajo/Hopi reservation in Arizona.
Besides, anything beats living in a nudist colony, right? Seven weeks ago I traveled to "Paradise" to visit my Mom and I couldn't even handle five days. Old geezers with schlongs hanging to their knees is not my idea of "paradise." My mom, although beautiful, would never participate and thus, never truly fit in. I'm not sure a 50 year old sassy blonde will fit in among Navajo and Apache women but anything beats naked old perverts.
Moving to New Mexico would mean, Amber, could visit for Thanksgiving and feast on Navajo tacos and fry bread instead of the traditional turkey and dressing menu we repeat at Christmas. Not that I'm crazy about babies, but I would love to see all the Navajo and Apache babies. There is something about their dark hair and eyes that melts my heart.
In crazy Mom talk, she said she was thinking about adopting one, which I will care for during visits. I asked her who would care for the unfortunate child when I wasn't "visiting." It was obvious by her silence she had not thought this far ahead. If the "babe" resembles the man in the above photo I'll "baby" sit anytime.
So, congratulations to my mother, one of the best RNs ever, embarking on an adventure that will take her from nudist to Navajo (New Mexico, that is).

Your Career Personality: Idealistic, Service-Oriented, and Future-Oriented

Your Ideal Careers: Alternative health practitioner Architect Environmental lawyer Librarian Magazine editor Museum curator Novelist Nutritionist Photo journalist Playwright

This weekend BG and I discovered Arrested Development with the help of our dear friend Gwen! All I can say is--How in the world didn't I know about this show sooner?

I'm not great at keeping up on television trends in normal hours. Now if there was a change in the format of Talking Sex with Sue Johnson--look out my friends! I'd be running a campaign. So, really I'm not surprised that I missed it. I just feel denied the opportunity of seeing this amazing feat of comedy when the other 7 fans were watching it.

If you haven't seen the show and you enjoy dark, smart humor you MUST see it. We watched *mumbled* episodes the other night and it still wasn't enough!

End rave here.

In our quest to bring you the hottest and funnest music allow me to introduce OK GO.

Although Al Gore's An Inconvenient Truth was released months ago, Jerry and I were not able to see it until last night. It was well worth the wait. It was so much fun discussing the film's contents afterwards because Jerry is so passionate about the environment.
In the film, Al Gore basically gives a slide show presentation. He has been giving this presentation for over twenty years. My uncle saw this presentation in the '80's while working at EPA's regional office in San Francisco. It inspired him to make changes then that have impacted his actions since.
Jerry crossed paths with Al Gore again a decade later. Jerry was living in Arlington with my Aunt Nancy and was invited to the VP's home for a reception. Someone snapped a photo of Jerry with VP Gore during the party, which he proudly displays in his living room today. I used to look at the photo daily when I lived with him. Seeing it inspired me to do something more; to create positive change in my own profession.
I decided to post the movie trailer below for those interested in seeing the film. It is a MUST SEE for everyone. Exiting the theatre I couldn't imagine how any intelligent individual could deny the existence of global warming when the scientific evidence is so obvious.
After An Inconvenient Truth, Jerry and I went to Zaytinya's for a late dinner. Zaytinya's is a tapais restaurant, directly across from MLK library, that serves mediterranean and Middle Eastern cuisine. Like An Inconvenient Truth, its a MUST. The decor, the energy, the food, was fantastic.
While a student at BYU, the closest relatives I had were over two-thousand miles away. Its so nice having a family member minutes away. I can discuss things with him that I can't with anyone else because he knows and understands in ways no one else can. I respect his opinion and regard his advice as much, and sometimes, more, than my own father.
At the end of the evening, Jerry asked, "So, Amber. Are you ready to save the world?" I can't help but wonder if that's a question he asks himself everyday. He doesn't know but he has definitely saved mine a few times. Thanks Jerry for a perfect evening.

An Inconvenient Truth - Trailer

There was a sign tonight in the third row which read, "T-Shirt: $40, Tickets: $130, Dr. E. Live! PRICELESS!!!!" and that's exactly how I feel.

I don't know to describe properly the effect that this woman has on me. It's amazing. Tonight BG and I sat in the 14th row of constitution hall, near the center of the venue. It's an awesome venue to begin but these seats were phenom! At 8 Melissa came out and she finally left the stage at 11. She sang everything I wanted to hear--well, let's face it. She could start a concert and sing straight through the albums and I'd still not have enough of her! But tonight was fantastic! I heard Chrome Plate Heart for the first time live. And Bring Me Some Water. And all the hits were there.

And she's so beautiful. When she sings she's intense and alluring in a way that I've never seen before or since. Standing on the stage she's at ease and the audience gets to see reflections of her deepest being. She's sexy. She's iconic. Mostly, she's totally herself. Without apology or dilution. And that inspires me.

The encore nearly did me in. She sang Like The Way I Do and All The Way To Heaven. I nearly cried.

It's not just a concert. It's more like therapy. The energy of the crowd is positive. Melissa shares great messages. The music wraps around your soul in a comforting embrace. It's, as a whole, the most fantastic way to spend an evening. I was telling BG that, to me, Melissa feels like an old friend. She's been there in so many private moments of despair and exaltation that I can't regard her as anything less. And thus, I am a fan in the true sense of the "fanatic."

I just realized that I'm spending more time getting ready for the concert tonight than I do getting ready for Church.

And, ironically, I've shaved my legs for tonight because I didn't on Saturday.

There are very few bands that inspire me to the fervor of tattoo but Breaking Benjamin does. I love their logo, music, members and...well...everything. The new song is brilliant.



And the new album is only $10 at Target until the end of the week. Buy, people, buy!

Has anyone ever said this to you? How does it make you feel? Honestly this is one phrase that makes me "mad as hell."
Upon moving from 2035 F to 2147 F our Program inherited a new mailman. At the previous address our mail person was a woman. Whenever she would come into the office we would for a few minutes before she gathered our mail. During Christmas I even bought a sweet potato pie from her. No big deal, right?
My behavior towards our current mail carrier is not any different. I decided, even though he is a man, I would still be friendly. Knowing men can often confuse kindness with interest, I tried to limit conversation to safe topics, i.e., food, sports, etc. Despite all my precautions, I have won the affection of our mail carrier, whose name I don't even remember.
Every time he comes into the office he confides that "my stop" is his favorite and he "always saves the best for last." Whatever that means. At first I believed the flirtation was harmless but this week he has tried to ask me out twice. Not good.
Then yesterday evening this comes out of his mouth, "I can't believe you're leaving. You have just ruined my day. We should go to lunch sometime. YOU OWE ME."
I am sure, if asked, he would probably not remember having uttered such a blasphemous oath. Despite any protestation he could offer, the truth remains. A man told me I owed him and sadly he is not the first to say this. What makes men or anyone, for that matter, say such a thing? I owe my parents everything and they have never said that. OK. My mom may have alluded that I owe her something for the hours of hard labor she endured to bring me into this world but my dad has never even implied such a thing. Yet, a man, whose name I don't even remember, tells me I owe him?!
No matter what people do for me I shouldn't owe them anything. People are kind and giving because they choose to be. I don't do things for the sake of getting something in return. I give because I want to. My actions are motivated by love or respect, sometimes both. There is no alterior motive driving my actions. So, why, if someone does something kind for me, should I owe them something? I have never understood that mentality. Perhaps someone could explain it to me.

The fifth sentance of page 123 in Shackel's Myth, Memory and the Making of the American Landscape reads, "Landscape freezing not only affects the decision making of the professionals involved in the management of the site, but also influences how they interepret the history of the site to the public.
The subsequent three lines state, "After the Battle of Antietam, the single bloodiest day of the Civil War, more than twenty-three thousand soldiers were dead, wounded, or missing. The battle began at dawn on September 17, 1862, and by the next day Confederate General Robert E. Lee withdrew his army back over the Potomac. Many historians see the Battle of Antietam as a major turning point in the war."
I am not tagging anyone. Sorry for breaking the blog chain but I don't know anyone outside our circle that blogs. Love you all.

Tonight Mom and I, on the spur of the moment, decided to go to the ballet. It was (suprisingly to me) pretty good. The first arrangment was to Samba music--which I love. The last arrangement featured death (in a scarlet and amazing dress) dancing to bluegrass. The arrangment in the middle had nonsensical music that made it hard for me to enjoy.

On the whole, a fantastic evening with my Mom. And further evidence that I am becoming her.

Thought it might be better to post the video so you can get a better idea of why I love this song sooo much. The DC played it last night as their first encore song. It made the night totally worth it.


Dixie Chicks - Traveling Soldier

Tonight I am going to see the Dixie Chicks in concert at the Verizon Center with some friends from Museum Studies. I don't listen to the Dixie "Hicks" very often because their songs resurrect a few bittersweet memories I would prefer to leave buried. Lisa, my last roommate at BYU, and I used to go swimming every night at the University pool. During our travels we always listened to the Dixie Chicks. One of the songs we kept on repeat was Travelin' Soldier. For those who are unfamiliar with this song I have included the lyrics below. I am not sure why I love this song so much but I cry every time I hear it. Tonight I will get to hear it live. This is one of the reasons I am dropping $63 to see a band perform who I haven't even purchased a cd for.
The other reason I agreed to go, is Sara. Sara Devine, is a lady in the Museum Studies Program I met in a Longstreth class. An immediate bond developed when we discovered we both moved to DC from Atlanta and she is from Charleston, SC.
During my archaeology field school Sara's husband, Adam, asked me if I would go with his wife to the Dixie Chicks concert. Being a Republican, Adam refuses to support the Dixie Chicks in any way. Seeing how badly Sara wanted to go, I said sure. Who knows? Perhaps I will have a husband one day who will refuse to go places with me forcing me to rely on single, female friends as backup. Men. I just don't understand them.
I'm a little sad because this will be a solo mission for BG. Steph and I have become so close it seems weird making any memories without her. Thanks goodness for Melissa. Anyway, I plan on taking lots of pics to share. Wish me luck tonight.

Travelin' Soldier

Two days past eighteen
He was waiting for the bus in his army green
Sat down in a booth in a cafe there
Gave his order to a girl with a bow in her hair
He's a little shy so she gives him a smile
And he said would you mind sittin' down for a while
And talking to me,I'm feeling a little low
She said I'm off in an hour and I know where we can go

So they went down and they sat on the pier
He said I bet you got a boyfriend but I don't care
I got no one to send a letter to
Would you mind if I sent one back here to you

Chorus:
I cried..Never gonna hold the hand of another guy
Too young for him they told her
Waitin' for the love of a travelin' soldier
Our love will never end
Waitin' for the soldier to come back again
Never more to be alone when the letter said
A soldier's coming home

So the letters came from an army camp
In California then Vietnam
And he told her of his heart
It might be love and all of the things he was so scared of
He said when it's getting kinda rough over hereI think of that day sittin' down at the pier
And I close my eyes and see your pretty smile
Don't worry but I won't be able to write for awhile

[Chorus]

One Friday night at a football gameThe Lord's Prayer said and the Anthem sang
A man said folks would you bow your heads
For a list of local Vietnam dead
Crying all alone under the stands
Was a piccolo player in the marching band
And one name read and nobody really cared
But a pretty little girl with a bow in her hair

[Chorus]

[Chorus]

What is your salad dressing of choice?
Currently Stephanie's Vidalia Onion dressing which is really weird because I HATE onions

What is your favorite fast food restaurant?
I never thought I would say this but, for now, its Potbelly's.

What is your favorite sit down restaurant?
Loriel Plaza in Dupont.

On average, what size tip do you leave at a restaurant?
I usually leave whatever Stephanie suggests

What food could you eat every day for two weeks and not get sick of?
Pizza

Name three foods you detest above all others.
I hate a-foods. Artichokes, anchovies, avacados, and asparagus. Apples are good though.

What is your favorite dish to order in a Chinese restaurant?
Cashew Chicken. I love anything with nuts!!

What are your pizza toppings of choice? Broccoli, mushrooms and green pepper

What do you like to put on your toast?
my Grandma Kidd's homemade applebutter. Total comfort food

What is your favorite type of gum? Original Trident (blue pack)

Number of contacts in your cell phone?
Don't have time to count right now but its not 163 You have to be pretty special to make it in my cell phone :)

Number of contacts in your e-mail address book?
I have no idea I know its over 200 for the Program but my personal maybe 20 max

What is your wallpaper on your computer? George on the sailboat in Boston is the screensaver on my laptop.

What is your screensaver on your computer? "Patience is the key to success" My daddy tells me that all the time

Are there naked pictures saved on your computer? Naked photos? Maybe. Maybe not. :)

How many land line phones do you have in your house? Zero


How many televisions are in your house? Zero

What kitchen appliance do you use the most? Ice maker

What is the format of the radio station you listen to the most? 107.3 FM

What do you consider to be your best physical attribute? My hair or eyes

Are you right handed or left handed? Right but I can sign with both hands

Do you like your smile? Teeth... no. Smile... sure.

Have you ever had anything removed from your body? Wisdom Teeth

Would you like to? Yep.

Do you prefer to read when you go to the bathroom?
No.

Which of your five senses do you think is keenest?
That's a tough one.

When was the last time you had a cavity?
Long time ago.

What is the heaviest item you lift regularly?
Weights

Have you ever been knocked unconscious? No but I used to try to make myself pass out. Never worked

If it were possible, would you want to know the day you were going to die?
Never. Goonies never say die.

If you could change your first name, what would you change it to?
I really like my name. I would never want to change it. Its has a cool meaning.

How do you express your artistic side?
Depends on my mood

What color do you think you look best in?
blue

How long do you think you could last in a medium security prison? I never want to find out.

Have you ever swallowed a non-food item by mistake?
motor oil

If we weren't bound by society's conventions, do you have a relative you would make a pass at?
This is gross but everyone knows how much I love Jerry anyway. I would make a pass at my Uncle.

How often do you go to church?
Every single Sunday

Have you ever saved someone's life? I don't think so

Has someone ever saved yours? Many times

Would you walk naked for a half mile down a public street for $100,000? Nope

Would you kiss a member of the same sex for $100? On the cheek? Sure

Would you allow one of your little fingers to be cut off for $200,000?
My grandma always wanted me to be a hand model. I wouldn't want to spoil her dream.

Would you never blog again for $50,000? Perhaps

Would you pose naked in a magazine for $250,000?
Totally naked? I think I would do topless but as small as I am no one would pay me to do that.

Would you drink an entire bottle of hot sauce for $1000? What is it with the money questions?

Would you shave your head and get your entire body waxed for $5,000? No. I really like my hair

Would you give up watching television for a year for $25,000? I don't even own a tv

Today I was messing around with the template trying for the new look. If you're in Firefox it's not going to look right but it's a change. In IE it has pretty flowers. :) Anyway! Then I noticed that our archives date back to August of 2005! And it turns out that our first post was August 11, 2005. So, get ready for a celebration! We're about to turn 1 and there's nothing we love more than a virtual party.

Here's why they love her. Notice that guy over her left shoulder? About 20 mins after this photo was taken he was sharing his life story and proposing.



So, we moved the blanket to break the thrall that Rae finds herself in when printed paper is around. And when we move up we end up sitting next to Skip. He's from NJ, down to see Steve McQueen on the BigScreen, has just lost his job....see how it goes?

Amber begins talking to anyone with an XY make up and Rae and I become the Do-Wop girls. We sit in the back offering funny (often sexual) do-wop obeservations and laughing with each other to add soundtrack to moment.

For instance, during the movie Steve hears from his love interest:

"What will happen to us now?"

And I stage whisper, "Sex. Sex. Sex."

Skip laughs and looks adoringly at Amber.

I heard this song tonight on IMF and I thought it rocked! There are tons more clips of them on YouTube.

Ladies and Gents, I present Paramore.

About a month ago I placed an order for a Pottery Barn bookcase I found on sale in their summer catalogue. Being the PB junkie I am, I checked my finances and mustering every justification I had to the cause, I dialed the 1800 number. The bookcase I originally ordered was the Tower bookcase and IS NOT pictured on the left. Why? Because the only Tower bookcase PB had left was damaged on its way to me. To apologize for the inconvenience PB offered me an upgrade. The Landon bookcase, pictured left, is what I will receive for the same low price as the one I ordered on sale. This is one adversity I can honestly say I'm grateful for. Now we'll see if it will not only arrive in one piece but hold my healthy book collection.

BG and I finally managed to get to Roy's! It's this fantastic sandwich shop with like 200 sandwich options on the menu. There's one called the BenderSchmender which boasts being the only 5-layer club featuring an oompa loompa in the world. Seriously. They had to put oompa loompa on the sandwich becuase everything else was in the other 4 layers. Even Donald Duck.

It's the perfect beer, pickled eggs and sandwich shop. And as we were walking back to the car, stuffed to the gills, we saw a perfect, whole rainbow.

By far the most excellent adventure in quite some time.

...Mama Harbour says, "Well, at least now you'll be listening to clean music."

Congratulations are once again in order for Michelle Beth Lee of Buchannan, WVA for an interview she has scheduled with the Smithsonian Institution. The interview set for this Thursday morning is for a position as a Registrar for an international collection. I can not think of anyone more organized than Beth. If I were the FS I would offer her the position in a heartbeat.
As you may have guessed, the photo on the left is of Ms Beth Lee. This was taken by another friend from Museum Studies, Kate Diggle. Some of you may have met Kate at the FHE hockey game last Spring. Tall red head with gorgeous green eyes. That's Kate. It also happens to be my favorite Beth photo because she looks so child-like. She also happens to be wearing George's coat in the photo. I remember when he offered it to her I was green with envy, wishing I had politely refused Mark's so I could wear the latter's.
Doesn't the water look incredible? If I could re-live a few moments of my life, sailing with Beth, Kate, George, Mark, Mike and Rob, would be a moment I would choose. There is absolutely nothing like being on a sailboat feeling the wind in your face and hair, lounging in the sun while hot men do all the work.
I also want to congratulate Beth for her recent purchase of a size 4 dress from Ann Taylor. Through incredible self-control and determination Beth has gone down several clothes sizes to become a size 4!! I am constantly amazed at what this woman can accomplish and applaud her for it.
The last bit of Beth news is Bella returns next Monday. For those who are not familiar with Bella, she is Beth's naughty cat. Bella has been in rehab for the past four months. While away life just hasn't been the same around the office. Laurie, another co-worker, and I have convinced Beth to create a My Space page for Bella and keep a blog about Bella's adventures. I suggested she call it The Bella Diaries and Laurie thinks it should be written from Bella's perspective. We'll see what Beth comes up with.
Although I know change is necessary I will miss Kim and Beth terribly. Over the past year they have seen me through five semesters of hell and my relationship with Aditya. Through it all they have been supportive and trustworthy. Hell, Beth was the first to introduce me to Dr Dreamo's and their fabulous nachos.
So Good Luck Chica & Here's to four more weeks at Museum Studies!

Yesterday I took an early morning road trip to Philadelphia with Erin, Joy and Joy's friend, Adam. Adam snapped this photo in one of Philly's lovely parks lying directly south of Independence Hall.

I have to admit that aside from the city's historic structures I knew little about Philly. It was interesting to see the stark socio-economic dynamics of the urban areas. A few times it was likened to SE or NE, DC. Yet, as this photo reveals the "Old City" is well maintained with manicured parks and a pedestrian-friendly "mall."

We began the morning by dropping Erin off at her gun show. She can explain the logistics of a gun show better than I, so I will leave that to her. It was interesting to observe her in a professional arena, providing information about Beretta products to people twice her age. For the record, I was impressed. She possessed a confidence with and around firearms that I will never have. I think I jumped every time I heard a gun shot.

Instead of hanging out at the gun show Joy, Adam and I decided to kill time in the Old City. Our morning was invested in a NPS film, titled Independence, getting tickets for Independance Hall, visiting the Old Christ Church cemetery (Ben Franklin is buried there) and the Free Quaker Church.

Around noon we fetched Erin and grabbed some Philly cheesesteaks at Gino's. Although I had never heard of Gino, apparently he recently made national news. Gino has established a controversial policy that only english-speaking customers will be served by his establishment. To support Gino and his crusade, hundreds of people line up daily to consume Gino's less-than-impressive (that's what I was told) cheesesteaks and freedom fries. As I was standing in line I couldn't help but wonder with a name like Gino, how many of Gino's ancestors immigrated to America unable to speak english. I wonder how he feels about past discrimination against Italians. Are his actions any different than those of generations past who segregated themselves from Italians and refused to extend certain services to them based on race? I don't think so. While some individuals may applaude Gino and his creed, I think its an unsettling reminder that, given the opportunity, people will discriminate and segregate themselves from those perceived as less-American or less like themselves. One of the beautiful aspects about living in America is that Gino is free to serve who he pleases and when he pleases. God bless America.

After picking at half of my cheesesteak we strolled through the Italian market, which according to Joy's guidebook is the largest outdoor market in America. My favorite store was a candy store, I can't recall the name, whose cases were filled with chocolate covered pretzels, turtles, cookies, truffles, etc. Adam took a few pictures of the candy counter that are pretty impressive.

Our Italian market excursion was cut short by a pre-planned date with Independence Hall. A NPS ranger explained we needed to be in the security line, no later than 45 mins before our tour began, to make the tour. Deciding its better to be safe than sorry, we rushed down and managed to breeze through security in five minutes. This left us forty minutes to spare. As we joined fellow tourists in the courtyard it began to rain. One downfall of Independence Hall is, lack of shelter and toliets. Erin and I both had to use the restroom and no one was caving. Eventually I found a young man (about our age) who fell for my "I am a woman and need a restroom" act and led me into a small bathroom. In the necessity of having to pee and the excitement that victory brings, I forgot to lock the door. This bathroom, I should mention was located just to the right of the entrance. Everyone entering the building could see this door and when opened, the person using the facilities. A security guard, seeing a light on, flung open the door before the kind man who had just helped me and who knows how many tourists, to turn the light off before locking up for the evening. Imagine her surprise, when instead of seeing a vacant restroom she saw a stranger in a Hawaiian print dress (and who knows what else) hanging out on the john. Needless to say, I was mortified. My embarrassment was impacted by her prolonged gawking, allowing Mr Helpful a peek as well. In situations such as this, I always repeat, "you'll never see them again." I just hope I'm right.

My embarrassment was soon replaced by excitement as we entered Independence Hall. For over a year, Dr Longstreth has lambasted me and my fellow hp students with slides depicting Philadelphia's historic structures. It is not surprising Independence Hall was often among them. Known less for its architecture than its association with our founding fathers and Revolutionary events, Independence Hall is not only a National Historic Landmark but a UNESCO world heritage site.

The building is lovely inside and out and our docent was not only informative but entertaining as well. As I climbed the staircase to the second floor I couldn't help but marvel over the stairs. Looking down, it was obvious the wood planking was authentic. Knowing these stairs supported men like Ben Franklin, Thomas Jefferson, John Quincy Adams, Sam Adams, and General George Washington was awe inspiring. Running my hand along the banister, I couldn't help likening the building to a woman, perhaps Liberty herself. The banister became her spine, and running my hand along it I could sense her fatigue and strength. It was a connection I hope to remember years hence, especially as I work to save other historic buildings & sites.

Following the tour, Erin, Joy, Adam and I climbed into Erin's fabulous new car and did a drive-by of the Rocky stairs before heading home. It was the perfect ending to a perfect day. I was not only reminded of my American heritage but developed a stronger "brotherhood" with my friends, Erin & Joy, than I previously had. I can see why Elton John was so enamored with her. There is an underlying romance to the city that seems to attract everyone who's walked its cobblestone streets. Crossing over the river (don't ask me which one) I vowed to return to Philly where freedom is king and history its companion.

ah ha! An Update! BG and I spent the fourth of July in a stylish, overgrown, bachelor backyard which was blessed with an incredible location. I've uploaded a picture which I think summarizes the experience. Also it does not, IMHO, violate the "No Photo" policy to which I've agreed when posting images that may or may not depict BG.

It was a fun fourth, if quiet. Mostly I was excited that we got to see so much of Gavin that week. The photo credit goes to that amazing South African! Next year we're going to have an insane party on July with the theme of "29 and stepping off the aging train!!!" I'm looking forward to it!



In other news, BG and I saw DWP with my Mom. The last movie Mom saw in the theatre was Pelican Breif back in 1923. It's been quite a while. So, fighting the teaching of her Mother (that theatres contained head lice and sticky floors that wouldn't release you) she ventured out with us. Mostly I feel bad for BG when this happens. Dealing with my Mom and I is something like watching a bad comedy duo. However, the night went well and I love DWP. BG is the fashionista but I'm the educated observer. I'll never get sick of watching beautiful people wear nice clothes! Or watching them wear something so crazy ugly that I feel justified.

movies such as The Devil Wears Prada make me wonder if I missed my true calling in life. Beginning in middle school, I would skip lunch just to hang out in the library and peruse Elle, Cosmo, Vogue, Glamour, YM & Teen magazines. Cindy Crawford, Kate Moss, Claudia Schiffer, and Christy Brinkley embodied perfection. I prayed one day I would have long legs, pouty lips, long gorgeous hair and a tiny waist. Still in the genesis of puberty, I had hope I could attain all this and more. Clearly this did not happen. Today I stand a whopping 5'3", am twice the size I want to be, have thin school-marm lips and a waist that is more masculine than feminine. Even with all these physical limitations I still long to wear a size 2 black Chanel suit with matching stilletos, Tiffany pearls, fishnet thigh-high stockings with lacy black french cut underwear, garter and well, you can imagine the rest.
My love for fashion continued into high school. I still have boxes of old Cosmos, Elles, Glamours, GQ's and Vogues packed away in storage. I became so fashion conscious I could pick apart someone's outfit, identifying the designer, the year and season. Calvin Klein, Karl Laggerfield, Dolce & Gabbana, Tommy Hilfiger, Ralph Lauren, etc. were people I aspired to know. Their couture I longed to parade.
In college my fashion interests changed somewhat to focus on, you guessed it, wedding designs. Reading Brides magazine I quickly determined Vera Wang was the world's greatest designer and nothing but a 1 carat, brilliant or princess cut, Tiffany diamond engagement ring would do for me. The black Chanel suite would be substituted for a light pink or blue appropriate for honeymoon travel. Matching gloves, shoes and hat were also a must.
This part of my persona seemed to die during my mission. For 18 months I was forced to hem my Laura Ashley skirts and dresses to the most unflattering lenth ever, mid-calf. In addition, during the last six months of service I was "asked" to wear nothing but solid white or pastel colored tops with solid dark skirts. I am honestly surprised Cosmo didn't feature us as a fashion "don't" in one of their issues. I would have.
It was during this time that I also gained a lot of weight. Despite rising every morning at 5:30am to do aerobics or run through the canyons, I still put on the pounds. No doubt this compacted my lack of interest in fashion. Why be interested in clothes I can't wear?
Serving a mission also tends to alter your perspective on things like clothes, make-up, hair products, hand bags, perfumes, shoes, etc. These worldy possesions loose importance, compared to say... serving God's children.
Although not fully resurrected, my fashion-crazed Jekyll occassionly takes control and I'll purchase a Cosmo, or a Betsy Johnson dress. I'm young, single and making money so why shouldn't I splurge every now and then, right? And one day I will win my weight war and fit into the size 2 Chanel suite. This means I have to educate myself about contemporary fashion because what if a Bebe suite is what "I" want and not a Chanel tomorrow? See how my actions are totally justified? See how easily I could become Andie Sachs, the movie's heroine? Scary no? I may wear ripped 80's jeans and baggy t-shirts but inside a part of me wants to be a sophisticated sex goddess.
The Devil Wears Prada, was therefore, a delightful trip down memory lane that allowed a long dormant part of me excitement only matched by BJ, & BR purchases (nowhere close to D&G or Chanel) or a consistent Cosmo, Vogue fix.
Thanks to Stephanie and Momma Harbour for a great ladies night out. This is one BG & IB adventure I will cherish for a lifetime.

Working at the GW Museum Studies Program has its benefits. Among these is the opportunity to work with some pretty fantastic people like Ms Kimberly Robinson, pictured on the right.
Kim was one of the first people I met after I began working for Ildi. She has an incredible work ethic, an astounding amount of energy, fueled by her daily intake of chocolate chip muffins, and she is funny as hell.
One of my favorite things about Kim is her distaste for rap music. We constantly argue about Beyonce's diva status while sharing a love for Disney movies, French language and culture, museums, Superman, Star Wars, Indiana Jones, Harry Potter and scrapbooking.
Kim works on our NEH Distance Learning pilot project, an effort, a la Ildi, to bring the benefits of the Museum Studies Program to individuals working in smaller museums. Although the program has been a huge pain in the choo-choo train it has also been a huge success. Kim has been a key factor in that. Not only does this girl go to school part-time but she works two jobs and has interned at the US Capitol and the White House. This makes me green with envy and I constantly tell her so. Ms. Kim also speaks fluent French and just returned from a fabulous trip to Paris where she spent two weeks studing French art museums. Honestly, what more can a woman want?
To top it off Kim was just offered a job with the National Park Service (NPS)! Although she hasn't broken the news to Ildi, she is expected to begin on July 23rd or something like that. Anyway, when she leaves I will miss her terribly. She not only makes me laugh but she always is there to calm me down when things get a little crazy at work.
She also has a unique way of humbling me. The woman, in case it isn't evident in the photo, is tiny. I think she weighs less than 120 and she's at least 2" taller than I am. She is always complaining about her weight. She's either too skinny or too fat. My response to both complaints is, "I have no sympathy. If I had the figure you had, there is no telling what I'd do." It was during one of these conversations Kim mentioned she was a C, meaning her bra cup size was C. Astounded I replied, "There is no way. You're way too skinny to be a C. My cup size is a B and my breasts, frankly look bigger than yours." Needless to say this did not sit well with Ms Robinson who was quick with a heated defense. The nickname C-Cup was born, explaining the title of this post.
I also discovered, during this conversation, that Kim thought I had "junk in my trunk." For those of you who aren't familiar with this term it means I have a huge butt. Although I laugh it off, I have become a little sensitive about my back side. Kim is not the only person who has commented on the size of my butt. Ben, an ex, used to tell me I had a "ghetto booty," while Jeff Meade, a married man in the Museum Studies Program told me my "ass was like a canvas." I am not exactly sure what Jeff meant by that but I have interpreted it to mean my behind is so wide you could paint a mural across it. However, I would rather have a little too much than not enough because, let me tell you, there is nothing worse than dating someone with no butt. I have tried it and its no good.
In addition to these backside criticisms, when I was a little girl my guy friends called me "soccer butt or black and white butt." These nicknames were earned when I played soccer on an all male soccer team. For some reason my mother always signed me up to play on all male sports teams. I am positive it was her way of further impounding the idea that "men are pigs" into my brain. I was only in the first grade but I have not forgotten that fateful moment Jason Gay kicked a soccer ball that hit my fleshy target. My parents insisted, while whiping away my tears, that this was Jason's way of flirting with me, but I knew better. Since that day, my caboose has been something I moan and groan at while viewing it in the mirror. If it weren't for women like Beyonce and J Lo who both have healthy butts, I would be in the depths of despair.
Which is exaclty my arguement for Kim, an arguement I will miss having with a dear friend and colleague. Not only does the woman have large breats but she has a kind heart. Her mother crocheted a poncho for me shortly after graduation. I almost can't wait for fall so I can wear it. It is one of the coolest gifts anyone has ever given me, the coolest have come from Stephanie, which I will blog about later. :)
So congratulations to Kimberly Robinson. A woman who wishes her name was Brie. A woman who has achieved her dream and proven the fruits of hard work and dedication do come eventually. I wish her all the best as she embarks on this new chapter in her professional life. May she meet an educated, successful, funny, adorable man who will treat her like the diva she is.

or should I say Commonwealth Cuties? It is official. After a short hiatus Mary & Zu Zu have returned to my dad's house, hopefully this time to stay, having reclaimed the garage and the attic as their domains. Why do I blog about this, you may ask? Well, I just finished talking to my dad, another daily ritual, about my pre-semester trip home. During the course of our conversation my Dad briefed me about the cats.
Since moving to Kentucky, Josh has kicked Mary and Zu out of his apartment, and banished them to live alone at my dad's house. My brother will be starting law school at the University of Kentucky next month and decided an early move would be wise. Lauren, his girlfriend of three or four years, got a job at UK and has rented a two bedroom apartment in Lexington. Josh and Lauren both have their own cats, Chef (the devil incarnate) and Jing (short for Jingles). Both argued having four cats in a 2 bedroom apartment was too much thus, the banishment. However, Josh has promised to stay with the two princesses every other day until my father returns from Baton Rouge in two weeks. Tonight, I am relieved to report, Josh is with the girls.
In a little over a month I will be too. Although I sneeze like crazy when they're around, unless I medicate myself with Zyrtec, I really do miss them. They are both such good company to have around. Don't get me wrong, they can annoy the hell out of me. Especially Zu with her claw in my nostril and Mary biting my chin. Talk about pain. My claws are nothing compared to theirs. After reading CNN's coverage of the woodchipper kitten I am just grateful we still have our ladies.
The photo above was taken at my Dupont studio last December just before I flew them home. Notice my unmade bed. Looks inviting, no?