My Card Collection (and a few tangents)

Well, there's no turning back now. I'm officially a card carrying DC resident. I'm not referring to my DC drivers license or my voter registration card*. I'm talking the cards that really matter. The cards that show you are not only a "resident" of a city but that you live there, like, really live there. 

Cards like these:

*Tangent alert: If you aren't registered to vote. Then, DO IT. A voter registration card is one of the MOST important cards. Seriously. You can register here.  

As a DC resident, I've acquired a very special card that means I'm now trusted to borrow (and return) books. In fact, I've already racked up a fine. How about that for fully committing to residency - I'm an official monetary donor to the DC Public Library system! You're welcome. 

The first books checked out on my new card? The Litigators by John Grisham and South of Broad by Pat Conroy (Only because I've already read all the books by Mark de Castrique and Melissa de Castrique Thomson)

Summer Scrapbook

Last Monday was Labor Day which apparently is supposed to symbolize the end of Summer. I, for one, think the first day of Fall should signify the end of Summer but, what do I know? I still wear white after Labor Day so I'm clearly not trustworthy. I'm an anarchist. Until I no longer melt my face off on the Metro, I'm going to go ahead and say that it is still summer. 

Sadly, summer doesn't really mean as much when you aren't in school. It took me a while to catch on to the fact that summer is just another - albeit hotter- season when you have a job. I remember, in my first year out of school, suddenly coming to the realization that, not only do I have to work all summer, but I can take vacations any time during the year. That was hard to wrap my head around. 

Nonetheless, we all still have an affinity for summer, probably because we spent the first 21 years of our lives thinking it was a big deal. Or, maybe you have a beach house? I think a beach house would add more meaning to summer. If you want to invite me to your beach house, I'd be willing to test out that theory for the sake of this blog. 

I wish I could go back to the days when we went to the pool all day and my biggest concern was how much more time we had to do underwater handstands before they blew the whistle for the dreaded, awful, every-kids-nemesis adult swim. Such an ageist ritual. Those 15 minutes always felt like an hour. I used to get mad because the adults would get in there and just walk around or swim super slowly - what a waste! I would be forced to go to the concession stand and kill time eating a microwaveable pizza and a popsicle. I guess the chewy pizza crust and sugary water were the consolation  prizes of adult swim. 

Those were the days. 

Despite my nostalgic rant on ageist swim club practices, I have to admit that the present summer has been pretty awesome. In honor of this so-called "end of Summer" I thought I'd take a pictorial look back on my first summer in DC. Some of these photos you've already seen. Some of them you haven't. Mainly this post is just a reason to use the PicFrame app that Catty told me would be well worth the 99 cent charge to buy it. Who doesn't love a photo collage? If you answered that rhetorical question with, "me" then I suggest you read no further. (And possibly, re-evaluate our friendship. I just don't know how this can work out.) 

Happy Post-Summer, Pre-Fall! 

Baby Charlie 

Clearly the highlight of the summer. I'm pretty obsessed with that little monkey butt. And, I use that term endearingly. My favorite photo is the one in the bottom left corner where he looks adoringly at my sister with his hands tucked under his chin. I think he's actually just begging for milk. Already working that cuteness to his advantage. We're all in big trouble. 

"I'll Just Buy A Bunch of Nipples!"

That's a phrase that's normal for me now. In fact, my Mom yelled it in the middle of a public space. Along with, "Lindsay, I'm over in the nipples!" 

Maybe I should back up and start at the beginning.

I was planning on writing about the Olympics. I told you in my last post that I LOVE the Olympics. I decided to write about them after the official Closing Ceremonies, partly because I wanted to recap the full two weeks in all their glory and partly because I wouldn't have time to write about it before I danced my ass off at Caroline and Will's wedding. 

The Wedding. (Photo courtesy of Catty Amos. Photographer unknown, but definitely not whoever Catty and Sarah think the photographer may be.)

So, I was all ready for the Olympics post. I was going to talk about how awesome Missy Franklin is, how horrible the poolside interview questions were, how I think I could've been the greatest rhythmic gymnast of all time, and, of course, the Spice Girls reunion.

That was the plan for Monday. I was going to catch up on sleep Sunday night, and write a rivoting gold-medal-worthy post after work on Monday evening. 

Then, this happened:

That's right, y'all. Good thing we already had the Jell-O shot baby shower, because Charles Sawyer Sullivan Thomson decided he was ready to make his entrance into the world. Actually, it wasn't his decision, his placenta decided to fight back against my sister (or something like that. Pretty sure that's the first and hopefully only time I'll use the term placenta on my blog). 

My Imaginary Friends

I've now been doing my daily commute long enough that I'm starting to see some of the same familiar faces each day. Most of them friendly. Some of them not. And some of them....well....they are the unsolved mysteries of my daily travels. It's those fine folks I'd like to tell you about today.


Note: This is not a profound post. I'm watching the Olympics while I write this. I'm obsessed with the Olympics. OBSESSED. I think writing this post will help me from screaming at the television and pretending like I know things about beach volleyball or gymnastics or rowing. Don't even get me started on swimming. An Olympics post will probably be happening soon. Until then...

Racewalking.

If you've ever played that game where you make up back-stories for people, then you would love the characters on my commute. If you've never played that game, then you've clearly not waited in an airport for any extended period of time. That's the best place to play. I typically like to give people troubled back stories with futures full of perseverance and hope. Or, if I'm feeling creatively lazy, then I like to guess what they just ate.


My morning commute is no Charlotte-Douglas International Airport, but there are certainly some interesting people. Here are a select few of my favorite characters from my daily commute. 

1. Couple Who's Always Late

For the last week or so, every time I get off the Metro train and begin my walk to the office, I'm almost plowed down by a couple holding hands and running as fast as they can. They are always dressed in work clothes and have frantic looks on their faces. The first time it happened I thought, "They're being chased by bad guys!" (Because that's the logical option). But I saw no one running after them.