washwords

So I’m just wondering…

• What happened to the crazy mccrazyton at the Dupont Metro round about 12:50 p.m. today (Weds)? She was screaming that some tourists had videoed her and that was a violation of civil rights and she wants the tape and call the police and help. Two metro station managers were on the case. I had to go back to work, couldn’t stay and snoop, but the poor Mrs. Tourist looked very unhappy. Poor thing.
• Did my pals waiting to go camping who had set up shop with their foldable chairs, snacks, and all, outside my office ever catch their ride?
• Why do people feel a need to powerwash the sidewalks on H Street (H street for cryin out loud) EVERY day?  And if they must, is morning (walking) rush hour really the best time for that? I’m just sayin.
• Did the verrrry loud girl on the phone who plopped herself right up close to the friendly looking fellow reading his book on a Dupont bench at lunch really not see him? or me? or just didn’t care? There were plenty o other spots to sit.
• Why is the one part of Fox and Hounds always jammed packed and the other one deserted? They’re the same thing right?

Anyone with the answer to these or other DC mysteries, please get in touch. Thanks ever so!

So, it is summer in the district. Despite all my verrry exciting news and the fun of telling everyone, it is August… in Washington D.C…. in a federal government agency.

It is deadsville, U S of A.

[Photo by “Garden Apartment” on flickr.]

While quiet can be nice, really nice, it can also be … quiet.
Very. quiet.
So. quiet. that I… am. starting. to. drifffffttttt.

Like a snowbank:
smooth, serene and sleepy.

Sure, blame it on the grey carpets, grey walls, empty hallways, lack of boss-like figures but is there something else going on?

I have loottssss of work to do and can’t seem to do anything besides think weddingy thoughts, watch olympics and literally stare into space. a happy stare into space, a deep deep calm, slumbery smiley stare into space.

I think I know what it is. Like how I used to get sick right after finals every semester, or how you go home and take a longgg nap after finally finishing that project. I think I have been stressing and fretting and relationshipping for so so long before meeting my love that now that I can rest my body is really ready to REST.

And rest I am, body, mind and soul in this blissy spacey sleepy place i am not too familiar with. maybe it’s happy?

Micro-essays Five through Ten of my 35/365 project.

What’s 35/365 or x365? See here.

5/365 Ben: Two years old. At bedtime, under your covers, after stories, after water and teethbrushing for you and your brother, you tell me, “but I still have words to say.” I remember this 20 years later.

6/365:”Yellow-Line Friend, 2005″ He won’t be coming to the airport, so I take the train through the winter morning, 2005. I can’t stop crying. You hand me a tissue and say it will get better. I believe you.

7/365: Mr. Marusa: In fifth grade, I wonder if I can become an author when I grow up. You say I have talent, and (NOT “but”) that the future is up to me. Thank you for the “and.”

8/365: Joserra: “Do you know of a band, the J. Giles Band? I think that this is most excellent American band, don’t you??” My Basque country hiking guide, you coached me well, guiding me in laughing again.

9/365 Roald Dahl: In Europe, when I was six, we devoured your books. “Danny, the Champion…” Dad read in our Dutch apartment, “James and the Giant Peach,” waiting for the ferry. They were funny and smart and home.

10/365: Matt: You say “You just don’t know how much I need you.”  But I do.
Your need is mine for your strong arms, laughing storytelling, and warm, pure heart enveloping mine. Thank you for finding me.

See here for the complete set as it evolves: http://washwords.com/words/35×365