On Saturday the husband took me on an America date* (not what you think, see below). Thanks to his staff badge, I enjoyed a private tour of the Capitol and a brief run around the Library of Congress. I was dismayed to learn that there is more than one LOC building and immediately declared that having an off-brand LOC is crap.
In the Capitol, under the Rotunda (right, the husband?) and above where George Washington was supposed to be interred, is the white marble compass inlay you can see my lovely feet perched on the edge of in the photo above. This is the archetypal center of the free world.
In other news, I drove today! I saw the county permit guys coming down the road checking parking permits so I hightailed it out of there.
No, not true at all. We needed Kleenex and hot chocolate and I know where Target is and how to get there, so I took a deep breath and set off. My sweaty palms only slipped off the wheel once, and it was at a stop light, so not all bad.
It probably took me an hour to do 15 minutes worth of shopping and although I was wandering around totally lost in one of the most recognizable stores in the First World, no one bothered me. I think they all knew I’m not from around here, thanks to the fact that I was the only person in the store who left the house dressed as if it is December.
Me: I bought Christmas cards today. They are really cute.
The husband: Oh great.
Me: Turns out I bought the ones that are meant to hold money. Now won’t THAT be a holiday surprise for our friends and family. “Merry Christmas! Have all the cheer that this card can hold for .44 cents!”
The husband: Hey, that’s a lot of cheer.
Me: I feel lame. Nowhere on the packages does it say “Intended to hold money, moron.”
* Many moons ago, the little sister had a crush on another little kid in daycare. His name was Kyle and he was going to take her on dates with all the money he had. All the money he had consisted of a grimy little pile of Major Magic indoor amusement park tokens, obviously worth nothing but 1/50 of a large stuffed bear containing asbestos. Regardless, Kyle was going to take the little sister on dates with this money, this “America money.” These would be called America dates. Owing to the fact that America money was (is? ha!) worth nothing, the dates had to be free. Since then, the family has referred to free dates as America dates. An America date is anything from sitting on the patio furniture in Target for an hour to smelling the Christmas trees at a farm when your apartment complex doesn’t allow them in your unit. The only rule is that no money is spent because no one accepts America money. Except Kyle.