There's a small glass vase on the lovely husband's dresser overflowing with pennies because I'd promised the girls that I'd take them with me to the bank so they can pour it in the counting machine that turns coins into direct deposit but funny, the bank keeps bankers' hours, too.
Last week's crisis, if I think about it too much, scares me. I think our government is failing and I think voices of reason are being lost in the loudest punditry of the most zealous insane and I don't want to believe in compromise as our best foot forward; I want to believe in sound-decision-making as a carefully crafted plan for this country's future.
I don't want to be governed by "this is what the other side finds least despicable." But when I swallowed the bitter pill of shutdown governance, I found consolation in what I could do with my furloughed time.
This morning I went to work so glad to be going to work, and a little frustrated that I still don't know when I'll get to the jeweler's.
I know that for so many people, government is a thing "over there." That's how I thought of it before I lived (20 miles) up the street from the Capitol, before I took meetings just a few blocks over on Pennsylvania from that pretty white house at 1600.
|View of the Capitol from the middle of the National Mall, where I entertain myself waiting for the work shuttle by playing with Instagram's tiltshift.|
|Hello, Washington Monument. Thanks for livening my commute.|
We took the kids to see the famous cherry blossoms yesterday. In a cherry blossom sense, the excursion was a disappointment. The flowers are past peak and the trees are less bright pink and more early green. But in a home-affirming sense, it was a beautiful afternoon to enjoy outdoors in our adopted city. We watched planes land at Reagan National from the tip of Hain's Point and we witnessed a wedding between the blossom-lined Tidal Basin and the base of the Jefferson Memorial. We patiently snapped pictures for non-English-speaking tourists and we climbed up and down marble steps.
DC, you can make me so foot-stomping mad, but I love you.