Sittin' on a Pretty Penny?

A random solo duck had built a nest in a corner along one side of the IRS building (see co-worker's photo)—on the last block on my walk to work. So I was told by IRS workers exiting the building one day, she was just sitting on her eggs waiting for them to hatch. (I actually never saw an egg poking out, fyi...) I rather enjoyed seeing her there daily, never in a different spot each morning.
Well, a few days ago, as I neared her spot, I peered around the corner, and she was gone! Nothing left but the nest! Suspiciously there were no broken egg shells... I’m thinking she was just camping out in front of the IRS building until she received her $600 stimulus check then took off to Pentagon City Mall.

If the Shoe Fits

I have a theory that people with the least manicured (well, I guess least pedicured) feet belong to people who keep them so unattractive as a sort of advertisement of their eco-friendliness. It’s sort of an in your face way for that person to show that he or she is “green” and therefore "cool".
Trimmed, pink-painted toes, exfoliated and tea-tree moisturized footsies in strappy heels=I felt bad about tossing a plastic soda bottle into the trash, but man that taco bell burrito was tasty...
Unclipped gnarly toe nails (with the second toe that always seems to be a foot longer than the big toe?!) and hairy feet that seem to have permanently fused with the barley-colored vegan flat sandals=I bike 40 miles each way to work in my hemp fabric clothing, eat fair-trade couscous for lunch, and I think anyone who doesn’t is a jerk...
I’d prefer these granolas just put their beliefs on a t-shirt.

Father Knows Best

Okay, so now I’m really torn. Around the corner from my usual kind woman soda vendor is a sweet man vendor. I’ve been heading down his block before work to hit up my bank, and so I’ve been buying sodas from him lately. At first I felt kind of guilty—I told myself, “I should go out of my way to go down the block and buy my sodas from the woman that always remembers me and my cola caffeine preference and greets me with a warm smile!” But, my new soda vendor remembered me after only a day or so. He even stopped me from grabbing regular pepsi’s instead of my usual diets—just like sweet lady vendor. He even upped the ante this week—he put a few mints in my plastic bag and sent me on my way saying “See you, sister.” Then today, he asked how I was doing, and I said I was frazzled because I was running late. Without a word, he put two lollipops in my plastic bag with my sodas and said “See you tomorrow.” I feel like I’m in a custody battle between my mom and dad here. Who do I choose?!

Agua, Por Favor!

With a heat index in the triple digits today, I struggled during my ten minute walk from work to the gym, carrying my gym bag and huge purse full of daily essentials. Already sweating five minutes in, I started to climb the last block (which, okay, has maybe a 2% incline) and became overwhelmed with thirst. I wasn't sure I could make it the last leg without a stop at Micky D's for a grande fountain diet coke. As I waited to cross the street, I glanced down and saw a teeny bird swoop down. I immediately felt at one with nature when the bird resorted to lapping up some dirty stagnant street water than had collected in a crack in the pavement. As gross as it seems, I sympathized with that bird and felt a bit jealous as he refreshed himself. Man it was that toasty...

(This blog entry is dedicated to my loyal reader Doodle, who believes I can regain creativity after my June hell month at work...)

Brain Drain

I've been working like a dog for the past few weeks, and it's amazing how working with spreadsheets ten hours a day, six days a week, can really fry your right side of your brain. I mean, I haven't had a creative thought in my head to post here since crunch time at work began. I even forgot my username AND password to log into my blog.

Probably the most creative thing I've been doing is deciding whether or not to toast my bagel before the morning meetings. I really hope my condition isn't permanent, or this will be my last post for a while...

Less is More

On my way home from work after throwing out my back (ouch!), I passed by this corner restaurant that has an insane number of chalkboard signs displaying their 'specials.' There's hardly any room on the sidewalk to maneuver around them. Seems to me that each desperate sign is another reason not to dine at this establishment.

I’m Ready for an Upgrade

Regular-sized umbrellas are extremely stress-inducing.
They do not keep you dry in really rainy weather—perhaps just the very top of your head.
The raindrops collect and roll off of the edges into rivers that pour onto your clothes—making you wetter even faster than just the raindrops would.
They are never flip-inside-out proof, no matter how much you spent for them.

I’m convinced they could only keep you 100% dry in light rain that falls straight down on a completely windless day—a rare weather phenomenon.

Before today, I thought people walking with those gigantic family-of-four-sized umbrellas were annoying—huge purposeless SUVs of the sidewalk. Now I think those folks are smart and dry. I’m stuck with damp pants all day and an umbrella that conveniently fits in my purse.

Department of Manure

I walk pass the Department of Agriculture everyday, and I swear, every week or so, there are freshly planted flowers and shrubbery out front. Wouldn't you think, if anyone in the entire US could keep a garden alive, it would be the folks working at the Department of freaking Agriculture?! I think even I could do a better job--and I've somehow managed to kill an aloe plant in record time.

A Feminine Touch

Whenever it’s rainy like today, I get a kick out of seeing the FBI agents hurry into the Hoover Building carrying girly-print umbrellas. Perhaps their wives grabbed their neutral colored umbrella in the morning? Whatever the case, these perfectly groomed G-Men in their dark suits and trench coats seem much less intimidating…

Woe Is Me

Does anyone else feel a little hurt when you sneeze and no one around you says "bless you"? It's strange because I don't really feel the need to be verbally blessed by complete strangers, but when no one says it to me, I feel a tad insulted and a little self-conscious, like the strangers think I'm too un-holy for a "bless you"... How could they possibly know what I did in college?

Sorry, Another Crosswalk Post

Why does the pedestrian lighted crosswalk sign abruptly change from "Walk" to "Stop"? I mean, are you supposed to just stop dead in your tracks in the middle of the crosswalk and wait to get hit? Shouldn't the sign first say "Hurry your ass up!" before just saying "Stop"?

Wool or Linen Today?

The National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) headquarters are located right near my Metro stop. Lately, I’ve been questioning how certain people got jobs there. Yes, the spring weather has been finicky lately, but how come on a really hot and humid day last week I saw an NOAA employee in full winter gear—coat, knit hat, gloves…? I was practically sweating in my jeans and a t-shirt. Then a couple days ago, on a just-above freezing morning, I saw an NOAA employee in a short skirt and flip-flops, hurrying to get inside the warmth of the building. Do these people not know that the NOAA runs the National Weather Service? Couldn’t they have at least turned on Al Roker for a second in the morning before dressing? As employees, shouldn’t it be part of their job descriptions to dress according to the weather?

Crossroads

You can tell DC is a mix of New York City and someplace like Savannah, GA because half the pedestrians politely wait on the curb for the green crosswalk light and half impatiently dash through speeding traffic. I am one of the latter.

Public Pet Peeve

Thought from yesterday’s commute after a lady smushed down right next to me with her giant stash of makeup:
It really grosses me out when someone sits right beside you (or anywhere near you for that matter) on the Metro and proceeds to apply full makeup—foundation, eyeliner, mascara?! Ewww— inches from my own face?? I feel icky like I’m trapped in their bathroom with them while they floss their teeth and trim nose hairs. To me, anything more than applying lipstick is not commute-kosher.

No Case of the Mondays for Me!

Okay, so we all know Monday’s suck. They especially suck when the weather is dreary and drizzly. This morning I decided to step out into the world with a positive attitude—stop and smell the roses. In my case, it was stop and take pics of the flowers on the way to the metro with my cute pic camera (thanks, beau). The potted flowers looked so pretty with the raindrops. I also decided, hey, don’t rush, let that crowded train go buy and wait a couple minutes for an empty one. Getting off at Metro Center, I thought, hey, take a different walking route on the way to the office. And guess who around the corner to greet me…the Pope. Well, a wax sculpture of him at least. So what I was 15 minutes later than usual to work?

Tasty Treats

Another way to know that the cold weather is officially gone for the season is when you ingest your first bug o' the season. You have be much more alert as a mouth-breather now.

Silent Witness

Time flies on my 18-minute metro morning commute as I do (and finish) the free commuter paper crossword puzzle. Well, yesterday evening, in a semi-empty train, I was seated near a 30-something lovey-dovey couple working on the same crossword puzzle I had completed that morning. They took turns reading the clues aloud and then they chatted about possible answers. As I pretended to be napping, I painfully listened to them mutually agree on a majorly incorrect answer. They excitedly wrote it in with pen and continued with the surrounding clues, as if they had just cracked a WWII cipher. It was really hard for me to keep my mouth shut about their fatal error and not save them from impending puzzle doom.

Thanks, Faux-Mom

This morning I stopped at my corner street vendor for my daily purchase of two diet Pepsi’s. I must sing my vendor-lady’s praises. Not only does greet me with a warm smile and charge me only $2.50 for two 24-ouncers (what a steal!), she has a heart of gold. A few weeks back, I decided to switch from two caffeine-free diet Pepsi’s, to one caffeine free and one caffeinated. She saw me reach into the ice cooler and double checked to make sure I didn’t want two caffeine-free ones instead. I thanked her for remembering but that I had decided I needed some caffeine in the mornings again.
Today, I plunged into the icy cooler for the same—luckily, she caught a huge mistake—I had picked up a regular Pepsi instead a diet one. Ugh—the horror that could have been! She saved me from a wasted soda that I’d have to give away free of charge to a co-worker. She delicately put two diets (one caffeinated, one caffeine-free) in a plastic bag and sent me on my way with a sweet giggle. Her morning motherly care makes me feel I can handle yet another work day. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’d happily cut the crusts off my sandwich from my home-packed lunch if I asked.

Trees, grass, and weeds---Oh, my!

I read in the Post that DC residents predisposed to allergies will, at some point, develop them due to the high pollen count. I have lived here three years with not a hint of an allergy, and thus I officially consider myself genetically better than the snifflers and sneezers every spring. Now that I'm LASIKed 20/20, I'd definitely outlive most DCers in the wild.

P.S. The above pic is a note I wrote on my car on the code-red pollen count Saturday.

Censorship Rules! (or should at times...)

Watching a CBS reality show last night, I saw many a blurred women’s boobs flying in and out of their bikini tops. Fair enough—let’s keep it clean for the kiddies and conservatives and all, but why don’t man-boobs (a.k.a. moobs) get blurred out? I mean, double-d moobs are far more graphic and inappropriate for network television, in my humble opinion, than a-cup woobs (a term I just coined for woman-boobs).