Oscar: Let me explain to you how much coming home this late displeases me by meowing constantly for five minutes for no reason whatsoever.

Me: *looks at full food and water dishes*

Oscar: I mean, I decided several hours ago that I wanted you to pet me, and you weren’t here.

Me: *sidesteps multiple toys strategically placed on floor in spots guaranteed to cause a painful episode involving a tiny bell and my foot*

Oscar: Not to mention, the bed is cold. I have specifically requested that the bed be warm from 5:13 PM until 7:42 PM.

Me: *puts down cat litter container, which is scientifically proven to be heavier with each step*

Oscar: Therefore I will meow until you try to pet me, at which point I will run away and proceed to ignore you for the rest of the evening.

Me: *sits down to play video game / read / knit*

Oscar: Unless you start doing that, at which point I will walk directly in front of you and rub my tail across the controller / book / yarn.

Me :*contemplates how an animal with a brain the size of a walnut knows how to disrupt a wireless signal at just the ‘wrong’ time / flick their tail across the page at the good part / tangle up yarn without getting stuck*

Oscar: Oh, are we going to bed? Well, then it’s obviously time for me to sit myself directly in the line of sight for the TV you’re trying to watch.

Me: *scoots cat out of way*

Oscar: Well fine… I’ll just flop on my side without checking to see how close to the edge of the bed I…

Me: *turns on light to make sure cat is okay*

Oscar: What are you looking at? I did that on purpose… nothing to see here. I’m just going to lay down over here; I never liked you anyway.

This post is a bit of a cheat.

Who am I kidding? This post is a BIG cheat. It’s been a busy couple of weeks around here, and my brain is a little fried, so the following are some of my pictures from New Orleans. Beautiful city, wonderful trip, hope you enjoy :).

Bourbon Street… daytime

Random park shot

Another random park shot

The third random park shot

A sweet wedding tradition; a band was right behind her

Bourbon Street… party time

Natchez Steamboat

Aquarium of the Americas

Aquarium of the Americas

By the time this hits in interwebs, I will probably be face planted in bed sleeping off an awesome weekend in New Orleans. After catching a bus to the airport at 3:45 AM (as in, THE MORNING TIME) the last thing I’m going to want to do is write. So…

Washington, DC:

Most of my travel has occurred in the past ten years than in my entire life (you can read about some trips here, here, and here) but this is my first real foray into ‘jetting off for the weekend just for the heck of it’. I’ve been looking forward to this trip for months. I thought I’d put my brand new two hour delay to good use by compiling a list of things I’m thankful for:

1. early to airport = prime ‘delay camp’ location
2. mid-afternoon flight (originally anyway) means time to get sub on way to airport which proves very handy…
3. … because being hungry can be rage inducing when airline employees are a big pile of no help regarding which of the three gates listed for your flight is the winner
4. mid-afternoon flight also means remembering what you forgot to do and then being able to obtain cat food before leaving
5. learning how to balance laptop on roller bag FTW

Dallas, TX

Multiple hour delay at Baltimore + 5 minutes to meet connecting flight = runrunrunrunrunrunrunrunrun

Miss connecting flight by 5 minutes + no seats on last flight = possible unplanned vacation in Dallas, TX

Random airline agent at empty gate + her personal awesomeness = surprise seat on last flight out

New Orleans, LA

Behold, the longest line in taxi history (picture taken from the CENTER of the line…THE CENTER):

And yet, I can’t wait to do it all over again. Travel just hits you like that I guess.

It is officially one of my favorite times of the year. Nasty, rude, grump-inducing winter has packed up his snow and moved on (I hope). Flowers are blooming, you can roll your window down without freezing to death, and festivals have started gearing up. I’ve already been to Longwood Gardens twice (and seen the tulips for the first time) and spent yesterday afternoon wandering through the first entry in my festival calendar: the Maryland Sheep and Wool Festival (click here for last year’s blog entry). So I thought I’d celebrate my good buddy spring with some pictures collected thus far.

What the Human Says: That is one bald sheep!

What the Sheep Says: Oh you think my haircut is funny? Enjoy your allergies, human. *shakes straw dust, dirt, and dander everywhere*

A visit to Longwood Gardens with my mom and Aunt Catherine makes up some of my coolest childhood memories. It is one of the most beautiful places I have ever been.

I have a bloggity Smithsonian project coming up this summer; more on that later :).

I never realized how huge trains were until I stood next to one. And was unreasonably proud that I understood the categorization system for locomotives, even though I forgot it around five minutes after leaving the Railroad Museum of Pennsylvania.

Enough said!

You recognize the people sitting at the next table, even though you’ve never seen them in the outside world.

The guy that gets the whale sized iced tea carafe? Your personal hero.

You worry about publicity. The wait is already long enough, thank you very much.

New seasonal menu? That calls for a glass of champagne!

And come to think of it, your favorite seasonal item is back. Finally!

The guy that runs the pizza oven in the back waves at you.

Secret specials? There are no secret specials.

Forgetting your wallet isn’t a big deal; they know where you live.

You get at least five hellos running the server gauntlet to get to the bathroom.

You hear things like ‘usually you come earlier in the evening’ and you just nod.

I live outside a super touristy area but don’t work there; I also didn’t grow up there, so every school field trip / Sunday family day didn’t involve being herded from one museum to the next (we did infamous road trips to battlefields… another post perhaps). This means almost every time I’m heading ‘into the city’ I’m going for happy things. One I’ve heard about for years but never experienced: the annual cherry blossom blooming.

If you don’t know what I’m talking about, you can find more information and background here.  The festival dedicated to the blooming has expert opinions on when to go, complete with a camera focused on the tidal basin so visitors can check out the foliage for themselves. Last weekend was considered the final time to see the trees in their glory, so off I went to check it out.

Knowing where to go was not an issue since everyone else was moving in the same direction. The trees are located in the tidal basin near The Monument I Will Not Go Into No Matter How Much of a Chicken You Call Me Seriously I Was Here During the Earthquake. Basically a short walk from the Mall among hordes of people made all the more exciting by a stimulating game of Dodge the Car.

And when I say hordes I mean it. One of the park signs said about a million people come through DC to look at the cherry trees every year. I’m pretty sure most of them were there that Sunday. I stopped to look at a few gorgeous trees, but spent most of my time flowing along a river of people while envying families that had brought picnics to feast under the blooms. Eventually I went rogue and hopped a divider to escape. I had some beautiful pictures and a whole lot of day left.

As my train ride seemed to demand more city time than twenty minutes, I stuck with the theme of the visit and headed to the Freer.

As with any other touristy activity in the city, the only thing that really concerned me was the metro. I’m used to tourists on the trains during the weekend and I’ve ridden during rush hour so I’m used to crowded. Nothing, and I mean nothing, compared to the scene that met me after exiting the Freer. There was literally a thirty minute wait to get to the escalator leading into the station. There may actually be people still waiting there. Even the back entrance off the mall looked like Best Buy the Friday after Thanksgiving. As I stared and compared my current age with the one I’d be by the time I got back to my car, inspiration floated through the air and found my sun baked brain. Up a few blocks to another station on a different metro line. I got to enjoy a seat all the way back to my car with nary another soul in sight. Plus I got to check off a long standing item on my bucket list.

Mission accomplished.

Traffic no longer makes me foam at the mouth.

I take the long way home.

That crazy look on my face as I drive around the neighborhood is because Gandolf just showed up to save everyone… again.

The good parts usually start right after you enter your parking lot.

Adolescent whining about the impossibility of anyone understanding anything is a lot more annoying when it’s vocalized.

I read too fast with normal books; when I listen to the same story there are pieces I never remember being there before.

I don’t mind letting my car warm up when it’s cold.

The amount of time left on a CD is directly proportional to your ability to change it to a new one.

Being able to switch from story to directions and back again, thereby avoiding the four times Siri tells you to stay in the same left lane? Priceless.

A book not on audio? ANGST.

There is the slightest possibility I have a small smidgen of stubbornness in me. I have also developed a sudden crush on expensive chocolates. These two things intersected recently to burn up a lot of sanity in search of a tiny box of reward.

Most people that know me would be surprised by the chocolate thing; I like sweets fine but I’ve never been a ‘must have dessert’ person. Fried salty things? Stand aside lest you be crushed. But dessert I can skip without feeling like I’m on a diet, and fruity beats out chocolate every time in my book. But as with many before me, a YouTube video was my downfall. watching EmmyMadeinJapan showcase handmade chocolates somehow triggered a latent hunting nerve and I’ve been obsessed ever since.

So one fine Monday I turned the sedan up the beltway to check out a hybrid candy / chocolate store. The website showed row after row of glorious, shiny candies alongside a promising looking pick your own chocolate display. After circling an unfamiliar neighborhood for a while, finally going into a less than festive looking mall, and checking the directory I trotted up the hall with visions of Nerds dancing in my head. And then I trotted back down the hall. Checked the directory more carefully. Back up the hall. This time noted stores around location I needed. Finally admitted defeat while staring at empty, chocolate free storefront.

Now many people would drag this bitter disappointment back to the car and console themselves with a king-sized Snickers bar on the way home. The thought certainly occurred to me. I mean, a king-sized Snickers is pretty awesome. And I deserved it after driving to wherever I was and having nothing but a couple of mall laps to show for it! Besides, disappointment makes you hungry, and it wasn’t going to take much to convince myself that such a defeat deserved a BBQ sandwich too.

Then the stubbornness I mentioned above kicked in. A couple of clicks on Houdini the Magic Phone gave me the location of several chocolate shops that were… not exactly near me, but not in the next state or anything. It was the beginning of rush hour but hope surged into me, and my tires squealed I carefully pulled back onto the beltway in the direction Siri pointed. Forty-five minutes later I exited Glarus Chocolatier happily clutching a bag containing six tasty morsels.

Stubbornness has its rewards.

*Bing dictionary, shortened a bit

Not only do fonts have personalities, but their usage / non-usage can be a political statement.

Ballerinas may look small and sweet, but they are some hard core chicks.

There are origami sculptures made from 5 foot square pieces of paper.

MST3K is still the best show. Ever.

If Jem had just called the police on the Misfits,  her life would have been a whole lot easier.

Old Disney movies rock.

As do Ghostbusters, Spaceballs, and Say Yes to the Dress.

There are documentaries about everything. Literally.

If MacGyver and the A-Team had joined forces, we’d be living in a perfect society. Or time and space would have fractured. Something epic, anyway.

Hitchcock was brilliant.

6:00 PM: I love the ballet. I should write about the ballet. Got to check one off the bucket list which is pretty exciting. For me, anyway.

6:08 PM: *still staring at blank screen*

6:10 PM: I need to stop staring at this screen. Time to do some random creativity exercise and hope my brain stumbles over some inspiration.

6:32 PM: What my mind comes up with:

• My mini crockpot really heats up leftovers well.
• I can’t believe there was really, truly, nothing on TV tonight.
• My nails are in desperate need of attention.
• Why did I leave my SweeTarts all the way over there?

6:35 PM: When did I want this done by again?

6:40 PM: Maybe if I watch some ballet on YouTube I will suddenly be inspired.

6:41 PM: CUTE PUPPY VIDEOS FTW!

6:43 PM: So that’s how you solve <insert current video game conundrum here>. Well, I feel silly.

6:45 PM: Best macaroni and cheese recipe ever? Yes, please!

7:30 PM: Wait, what was I doing again?