Took a leisurely drive down to Charlottesville, VA to check out Jefferson’s house. Got the house tour, slave tour and garden tour, and learned a little about the great-man-ordinary-slave-owner.
Stopped for lunch/dinner at Burger King on the way home (gotta love frozen cokes).
Finished up my yester-wings and extra celery during Hellboy.
Another great day of vacation. 
Did the chores (dishes, a load of laundry, turtle feeding) before heading out to DC. The dad got himself a trolley ticket, and I rode for free. We rode the bus around, hopping off to visit the Kennedys and watch the changing of the guard, see the Lincoln, Korean, WWII and Washington Monuments, and read the Magna Carta, Declaration of Independence, Constitution and Bill of Rights.
Ate lunch at the Reagan building, where apparently you need to show a picture ID and get metal-detected for the honor of a sandwich. I got a Lafayette Plaza and the dad got an Independence from the 14th street deli. Both excellent - if a little unorthodox - sandwiches.
Got some nice views of Union Station, the White House, the Capitol, the National Cathedral, the Howdy Doody hotel, Freedom Plaza, Mr. Jefferson’s back, the tidal basin, the Potomac, the Kennedy Center, the smallest house in Georgetown, and embassy row.
All in all, the trolley ride was well worth the dad’s $35 …
Got home exhausted and called in a carry-out order to Buffalo Wing Factory for dinner. And found out that when you ask for extra celery with your wings, you really get extra celery. The order wasn’t quite ready when the husband and I showed up to pick it up, so he passed the time by trading in 75 cents for a little purple bear. Which will soon join my collection of stuffed animals rescued from claw-machines.
Fell asleep on the couch while the husband and dad watched some Star Trek: TNG on tv.
Ok, so it was more like a day trip.
On Wednesday, I decided that I’d had enough of the same-old same-old, and informed the husband that we were going somewhere this weekend. I wasn’t picky, but I wanted to get in the car and GO somewhere, and be GONE all day.
I had forgotten how much I love a good day trip, but the anniversary trip to good ol’ West Virginia last month reminded me. We didn’t do anything fancy - toured the governer’s mansion, caught a concert, went the to art/science museum, shopped at the big mall, caught a community play, and ate at Shoney’s 3 times. But it was a nice break in the routine.
So, Saturday we drove to Fredericksburg for a day of playing tourist. We spent a couple of hours at a renaissance faire, a couple of hours walking around the shops downtown, dinner at Sonic, a ghost tour, and dessert at Sonic.
(Hmm, if Ashburn would just build a Shoney’s and a Sonic, I could die fat and happy right here ….)
Yeah, my feet are killing me - the college days of walking 5 miles a day are far behind me. But there is something nice about going somewhere you’ve never gone just to experience something new. And I suppose the Sonic doesn’t hurt …
To celebrate the fourth year of our married-ness, the husband and I embarked on a road trip to wild West Virginia. West Virginia wasn’t really our goal (though it is a state neither of us has visited) - it just happened to coincide with a Carrie Underwood concert.
Admittedly, there are at least 8 locations closer to us than Charleston, WV to see Carrie Underwood on her tour. Unfortunately, we missed the debut of ticket sales for Baltimore, MD (an hour away), Charlottesville, VA (2 hours away), Hershey, PA (2 hours away), Wilkes Barre, PA (4 hours away), Roanoke, VA (4 hours away), Pittsburgh, PA (4 hours away), Bethlehem, PA (4 hours away), and University Park, PA (4 hours away).
And so the husband joined the Carrie Underwood fan club so he could be FIRST to buy tickets for the Charleston concert. After releasing the first set of seats offered, he snagged the best tickets I have ever had to a concert. On the floor, row Q, right along the catwalk that Keith Urban sets up for all his shows. Awesome seats. Too bad country music isn’t my favorite …
I recently spent a week in sunny sunny southern California, and managed to get myself quite burned. Walking around Sea World, nonetheless - I wasn’t even laying out on the beach asking for it. I slathered on my husband’s SPF 50 at the beginning of the day, and thought I would be good.
Nope.
Throughout the afternoon, I kept asking how the back of my neck and shoulders looked, and my husband insisted I looked fine. I shouldn’t have taken his word for it - I know I’m not an insta-burner. I know it takes half a day for the true extent of my sun damage to display itself.
Luckily for me, I have spent a teeny amount of time in the Virginia sun this summer. My arms have seen enough to not be stark white, as have my face and neck - and by neck, I mean the neck that shows when I wear my regular, apparently fairly high-neck, t-shirts. So any skin that I normally expose to the sky only got the tiniest bit burned, there was only a small amount of peelage.
But, on Sea World day, I decided to wear a new, adorable shirt. Which exposed more skin than I usually expose. (Don’t get excited, it’s still very much classified a t-shirt, with actual sleeves and everything.) And every bit of skin that hasn’t seen the sun in years, burned. Burned bad. It peeled, over a week and a half, the most painful peeling I’ve ever experienced. And the skin that emerged was pink. Pink! I can’t ever recall having a burn that did anything but peel off to expose a beautiful tan.
My back and shoulders have stopped hurting, and I have been able to resume my nearly scalding hot showers. I have to admit, though, I haven’t looked at them to see what color they may have ended up. My arms however, have what most people would consider a nice color. A nice tan, but not leathery or obnoxious. (Obnoxious tans are the ones arrived at in a tanning bed, or through very deliberate laying out in the sun. You know the look.) Looking at my arms, though, all I see is the color of skin cancer. I see a glimpse of sun-spotted middle-aged lady arms. It doesn’t look good to me, and it most certainly doesn’t look healthy. I can’t wait till mid-fall when my tan finally fades to my own natural white with a tinge of yellowy-olive. I think I may just find myself a dermatologist to start cataloging my moles - and I’m definitely gonna start using more of that SPF 50.
Since getting married, I have been introduced to a new world: the world of conventions. And I have found, that I actually like them.
I think I like conventions because I am a bit of a hobby collector. I like to try out new things on a frequent basis. There are things I’ll never give up - like shopping - but there are others that come and go as my mood changes - like knitting or landscaping (that’s a mood I’m not likely to be in for awhile) or particular video games. And going to conventions lets me get a brief glimpse into a hobby, so I feel like I can add it to my list.
In my first married year, I went to a one-day Comic-Con in Baltimore. My second married year, I went to a 4-day Star Trek Convention in Las Vegas. And this year, I went to the two-day Blizzcon. While I enjoyed them all (though, admittedly, 4 days is WAY too much time to spend with fanatics), Blizzcon wins, hands down.
I have to concede that Blizzcon is hosted by Blizzard who makes millions and millions of dollars on their video games, most notably, World of Warcraft, which has 9 million subscribers who gladly pay $14.99 each and every month for the pleasure of playing. (yeah … I’m one of those 9 million …) The other conventions were hosted by … well, fanboys. People who just love comics or star trek sooooo much, and they have a deep desire, down in their hearts, to have a venue where all the fanboys of the world can come together and be all fanboy-ey. So there is definitely a money discrepancy that can’t be ignored. And, well, more money gets you better stuff.
Point one for Blizzcon: Ticket distribution. Ticket pickup was available the day before, or during any of the convention days. The Star Trek convention used this model as well. But Blizzcon split the alphabet up into about 30 groups, and had in essence, 30 lines. 30 minutes before the start of ticket pickup, my husband and I got into our line. Less than 30 minutes after ticket pickup officially started, we had our tickets (and swag bags). At the Star Trek convention, we got in line 30 minutes before ticket pickup officially started. The one line. When we finally got to the front of the line, hours later, the alphabet was split into a couple of groups, where 10 people were there to get us all squared away. It was a pretty miserable wait.
Point two for Blizzcon: Open space! The main stage was set up with thousands of chairs - but also wide open space to either side. There was wide open space around the food vendors. There was wide open space around the various booths. There wasn’t too much open space - but enough of it to accommodate the thousands of people as they wandered from one place to another. The vendor room at the Star Trek convention was overly crowded, and some booths seemed more like a personal garage sale than honest-to-goodness Star Trek Shtuff dealers. The booths that were expected to be busy didn’t have enough space - or cordoned off space - for people to line up in an orderly fashion.
Point three for Blizzcon: Staff! The staff walking around Blizzcon all had little radios. So they could keep up with what was going on. So they could radio for help if needed. They were well-connected, and if you asked them a question, they knew the answer. Or they could get it for you quickly. At the Star Trek convention, most of the staff didn’t know what was going on. If you asked a question, they didn’t know the answer. And they couldn’t point you in the direction of anyone who did. They were just people with pens hanging from their necks, carrying clipboards, who got in for free by volunteering to be staff.
Point four for Blizzcon: Not ridiculously priced food! The Star Trek convention was held in the Las Vegas Hilton. Complete with $2 Hilton candy bars and $4 bottles of water. Blizzcon was held in the Anaheim Convention Center. With $6 pizza and $1 candy bars. Maybe still a little overpriced, but not so much so that you find yourself going hungry in protest of serious price gouging.
Point five for Blizzon: Funny Humor. The Star Trek convention people made a Star Trek puppet musical that was supposed to be funny but was just plain odd and uncomfortable. The winners of the Star Trek movie contest had movies that were again, just … strange and mostly boring. The ‘movies’ and ‘promos’ that Blizzard put together were hilarious! And the winner of the ‘Comedy’ Blizzcon movie contest was a laugh out loud riot. I know not everyone shares the same sense of humor - and my own sense of humor is admittedly not exactly main stream - but I really didn’t get how anyone could find the Star Trek convention brand of humor … well, humorous.
Point six for Blizzcon: Gracious Hosts! Never, at any time, did anyone with a mic at Blizzcon get snippy with the audience. Never, at any time, were they anything but glad that we had come. Never, at any time, did they leave a sour taste in my mouth or make me feel like they were just grown up spoiled brats. I wish I could say the same for the Star Trek convention hosts.
So, there you have it. Blizzcon, with 6 points and Star Trek Convention 0. Some of the issues would be hard to fix without a lot more money - but the Creation Entertainment folks could certainly learn a lot from the Blizzcon book of entertaining. I understand that the first Blizzcon didn’t go off nearly as well as this last one - but they definitely learned from their mistakes to throw one heck of a party.
I love Washington DC. Even though I haven’t been downtown for months and I’m only 40 miles away, DC will always have a special place in my memories.
DC was my first big adventure - my first solo outing into the great wide world. I grew up in a smallish town - 35,000 people - in Washington state. This town of 35,000 people had a sister town of about another 15,000, and together, this community of 50,000 people was self-contained. We had two shopping malls - one with 15 stores, the other with 50. There were 3 high schools, 7 grocery stores, 3 McDonalds, a Target and a Walmart. There was no need to venture to the ‘Big City’ an hour away, unless you really wanted to go to the zoo, or you were going to the airport. And so we didn’t. We stayed put in our comfortable lives, lumberjacks and mill workers. It’s a good life, full of hard work and some of the most beautiful country in the nation.
But I was born with the spirit of an adventurer. I wanted to try out that thing called ‘college’. I wanted to see what there was to see beyond the bounds of my hometown. I wanted to marry someone that I hadn’t even met yet. Which is what led me to fill out 37 scholarship applications my senior year. And which is what brought me to the nation’s capitol, 2 months before my graduation.
I had qualified for the final round in a scholarship/internship program based in DC. They were flying me out for 3 days, all expenses paid! Me! Little ol’, 18-year-old, from backwoods Washington state, me. I didn’t think I stood a chance against all the competition I was sure to have, but it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter if I made the final cut; I was getting a free trip to the capitol. Of the whole country. On the EAST coast.
And so I did what any 18 year old about to fly 2000 miles away from home for the very first time ever with no parents would do: I went to the public library and checked out two tourist guides to Washington DC, and started planning out what I wanted to see. Ok, so maybe that’s not what every barely-adult’s first response would be - but I was convinced that this might be my only opportunity to ever see the capitol.
Now, this 3 days in DC was going to be full of interviews, and evaluations, and tours, and lunch meetings, and who knew what else. There was no guarantee that I was going to get any time at all to do any sight-seeing. But - just in case there was some downtime - I was going to be prepared. I read those books from front to back, studied the maps, and learned all I needed to do to use the metro. I knew all about the farecard machines, and all the different passes I could buy. I knew I had to stick my little cardboard card in the slot at the turnstile, and it would let me through. I knew about all the different train lines, and where the transfer stations were. I was ready.
I got lucky with the interviews, passed some tests on the first go-round, and ended up with a free morning. I had to be back by 2 pm for an interview with Yet Another Important Person, but I was determined to make the most of it. I got up as early as I could bear to make it to the metro, for the opening of the National Zoo at 6 am.
It was a rainy day in May. I had an umbrella and a travel guide from my public library, and I asked the courtesy hotel shuttle driver to take me to the nearest metro station. I asked him if he could pick me up at noon, and he gave me a business card and told me to call the number when I was ready to be picked up.
And so there I was at the metro station. Putting my money into the farecard machine. Retrieving my farecard and 5 dollars change, all in quarters. Unfazed, I took the card and scooped up the change into my pocket, and started on my adventure. I made my way with the rush hour crowd onto a train, and headed to the National Zoo. It involved a transfer from the Orange Line to the Red Line, but I was up to the challenge.
I made it to my stop, and got off the train. After exiting the metro station, I spotted a convenience store where I bought a little carton of milk and a granola bar. Continuing my adventure as I enjoyed my breakfast, I walked for several blocks before I realized I was going the wrong direction. And so I turned around, and headed to the zoo.
At 7 am on a rainy Thursday morning, you pretty much get the zoo to yourself. None of the buildings are open, but the grounds are, and you can wander around reading about all the animals, and even get a good look at a lot of them. At 9 am one of the zoo stores opened, so I purchased a bag of souvenirs before heading to my next stop.
A brief jaunt down the Red Line brought me to the FBI building. I entered the building, through the tourist entrance, and promptly set off the metal detectors. After emptying $5 of quarters from my pockets into the bowl, and a smirk from the security guard, I was inside. I didn’t have time to wait for the tour, but I did have time to hit the FBI store. Which I did. After buying more souvenirs than I really needed, I was ready to see the next place on my list.
The Hardrock Cafe! What tourist destination is complete without a Hardrock Cafe? I looked at all the available merchandise, and finally decided on the standard white t-shirt. At $18, it was among the most expensive things in my wardrobe, but it was the Hardrock Cafe. I couldn’t leave without a t-shirt.
Standing outside the Hardrock Cafe with my backpack full of souvenirs and pockets full of quarters, I studied my maps and tried to figure out how to make it to that place called ‘The Mall’. ‘The Mall’, from my reading, was not a ‘mall’ at all, but a collection of some of the most famous monuments and museums in the world. I stopped a man on his way to work to make sure I was heading in the right direction - I had already wasted enough time walking the wrong way to the zoo - and after he pointed me the right way, I was off.
As I approached Constitution Ave, I spotted perhaps one of the most exciting things of my trip: a street lined with discount souvenir carts! How could I go wrong with 3 t-shirts for $10? I loaded up on more souvenirs, and purchased a popsicle from a food vendor. I sat on the curb outside the American History Museum and ate quickly, so as not to waste any time that I could be spending admiring the Smithsonian artifacts.
Inside, there was so much to see: gowns of the first ladies, a giant statue of President Washington in Roman get-up, the ruby red slippers. I sat in a booth to buy a picture of me with President Clinton. With a $5 price tag, it was a nice way to empty my pockets. I made it to the Smithsonian store in the basement, where - you guessed it - I filled up what little space I had left in my backpack with even more souvenirs.
I exited the museum from the ‘Mall exit’, and didn’t realize what was in store for me. I knew there was a metro stop - and I was in desperate need of transportation back to my Very Important Interview - and so that was where I was headed. As I walked across the green lawn of ‘The Mall’, I realized that I had the Washington Monument to my right, and the Capitol building to my left. I dug out my disposable camera, and snapped a few pics before continuing on my way to find that post with the infamous ‘M’. I found the ‘M’-marks-the-metro post and rode the escalator down. I hopped on the next Orange Line train in the direction of Vienna, and got off at my stop.
Luckily for me, there were payphones just outside the metro station. Also luckily for me, I still managed to have the 35 cents necessary for a phone call to the hotel. I didn’t have time to go back to the hotel and still make it to my interview, so when the shuttle driver arrived, I convinced him to take me to my interview.
And so I arrived at my interview, a little damp from spending the morning in the rain, and with a backpack stuffed with mementos of my adventures.
I have since been to many places: Manhattan, Paris, Boston, Gettysburg, Casablanca, Rome, Hershey, Cozumel, Houston, Barcelona, Madrid … more places than I can even recall right now. But DC will always be special, because it was my first. And it’s the only city that I have ever explored by myself. I ended up getting that internship, and spent much of the following summer exploring the city on my weekends - sometimes with roommates, sometimes with fellow interns - but often by myself. They say that one of the best ways to get to know yourself is to travel somewhere new, by yourself. You have no safety net, no one else to fall back on to decide what you should do or what you should see. I love DC because it reminds me of being young, and of thinking that the world is a wondrous place; it reminds me that I am capable of a new challenge; and it reminds me that you don’t really need an entire backpack of souvenirs to remember the trip.
I was at Target the other day, and had the sudden need to purchase new socks. After perusing the sock aisle, I finally settled on a 3-pack of socks: one white pair, one white-with-green-and-blue-stripes pair, and one NEON GREEN pair.
I’m not normally in the habit of wearing neon green socks, but the price on the 3-pack was right, and the striped pair really are rather cute. And so I now own a pair of neon green socks.
I took a cross-country trip last week, via plane. Which meant that I had to go to the airport. Which meant that I had to go through airport security. Which meant that I had to take my shoes off. Which meant that I had the perfect opportunity to wear my neon green socks.
I hate taking my shoes off at the airport. It’s a hassle, the floor’s always dirty, and then there’s nowhere to sit down after you get through the metal detector so you end up walking while juggling your open backback, laptop, purse, belt, shoes and boarding pass until you can find a seat.
And so I decided that I would wear my neon green socks to the airport. So people would look at me and think: “That girl is wearing neon socks.” Or: “Wonder if she knew she had to take her shoes off.” Or: “How embarrassing.” And also, as a quiet (as if neon could be quiet …) protest to removing my shoes at the airport.
I’ve never been to a star trek convention. It’s been on my do-once-in-my-life list for years now. So, when my husband announced that the 40th anniversary star trek extravaganza was going to happen THIS YEAR, I decided it was time.
When I tell people I’m going to a star trek convention, they always ask if I’m going to dress up. No, I don’t plan on dressing up. I don’t own a star trek uniform. The star trek actors don’t even dress up for conventions. Of course, I could go in my pajamas, as it seems that everything that is worn in the Gene Roddenberry future resembles sleepwear.
When I agreed to go to the convention, I didn’t realize that it was four days long. Four days? Of total trek immersion? I must be out of my mind! What could you possibly do for four entire days? Well, according to the schedule, you can play bingo (star trek style), eat chocolate (star trek style), auction for charity (star trek style), wait in line for autographs (star trek style), wait in line for pictures (star trek style), watch improv (star trek style), dress up (star trek style - with the possibility of winning $1000 in the costume contest - maybe I’ll reconsider…), DESIGN A CENTERPIECE (star trek style), create a music video (star trek style), participate in talent contest (star trek style), write an essay (star trek style), drink champagne (star trek style), eat dinner (star trek style), eat dessert (star trek style), buy loads of crap (star trek style), wear a plastic wristband (star trek style), ride a fake roller coaster (star trek style) or watch a 3D movie (star trek style). Oh yeah, and listen to actual star trek actors speak.
Now, I’m a little confused about the star trek centerpiece contest. I don’t really recall any centerpieces from the shows, but I suppose that people in the Gene-iverse liked to decorate their tables. I’m a little intrigued to see what people come up with - perhaps something with silk flowers and a tiny warp core replica? Or a nice vase filled with marbles and fully-functioning posotronic brains? I, for one, would vote for anything with a likeness of Wesley Crusher.
One contest I do plan on entering, however, is the essay contest. The contest is in honor of Scotty and is limited to engineers. And, well, I’m sort of an engineer. Plus - I’m a totally awesome writer. I’ve worked with a lot of engineers (seeing as that’s what I do and all) and most of them can’t write. I so have this one in the bag.
So far, the list of convention guests is rather impressive. They’ve managed to snag all the captains, minus Picard (rumor has it he still has a career or something), and they have one of my favorites, Weyoun from DS9. My other DS9 favorite, Damar, has not appeared on the list yet, though they keep adding people, so I’m still hopeful I’ll get to see him.
Damar?, you may ask. Yes, Damar. Because he’s obscure, and also because he giggled when Worf killed Weyoun 18. I made my husband rewind it on the tivo so I could watch it again. So - Damar - please don’t disappoint me. I’ll even share my essay-winnings.
