WashingTina

What are you most thankful for this year?  Through ups and downs, one person always keeps me laughing . . . my Wonderful Husband.  In honor of what I'm most thankful for, here are some of his "greatest hits" over the past year.  Enjoy! WH discusses what it might be like to be an air marshal: Marshal Plan Why you should never look down while riding the Metro across a bridge: Looking Up WH stands up for hardworking people: Take Pity On the Working Man He loves his toys: Toying With Us WH details how you can get deleted from his address book: Listen to Your Inner Voice Preparing for the worst: Zombie Apocalypse The real scoop on vampires and werewolves: The Witching Hour WH does our retirement planning: Get Rich Quick Happy Thanksgiving to you and yours from WH and me!

With news this week of the impending TSA body scans and pat downs at airports across the country, I was reminded of a particularly joyful experience WH and I had in Key West a couple of years ago.  We had gone down to celebrate a friend's birthday and were returning to D.C. the Wednesday before Thanksgiving.  Not a great day to travel, but from Key West it wasn't so bad . . . the airport only has one gate.  We were standing in line waiting to be screened and board the plane (which basically all happens within 50 feet of each other) and chit-chatting.  WH pointed out a photo on the wall of an FBI's Most Wanted terrorist -- he looked like your garden variety terrorist: disheveled hair, long beard, soul-less eyes, slightly constipated.  WH said, "You know if that guy shaved his beard, combed his hair, and put on a Budweiser baseball cap, these idiots would never know the difference."  This was, unfortunately, within earshot of one of the TSA agents.  I...

I am not a morning person.  The sooner you know this about me, the better friends we'll be.  There is nothing I hate more than having my sleep interrupted.  I've been known to rain hellfire down on anyone who calls me while I'm sleeping.  It's all I can do to be civil to most people before noon.  I used to have a roommate in college who would start the day with, "Mornin', Sunshine!" It set my teeth on edge. Not only do I not like to talk to anyone early in the morning if I don't have to, but I certainly don't like to be made fun of and called "Sunshine" because of my not-so-delightful early morning demeanor. She never did get that hint.  If it was acceptable, I would never leave the bed before midday (I'd stay up till the wee hours, though, so as not to waste time).  But it's not, really, so I'm forced to rise at the ungodly hour of 7:00 each day to get ready for work.  Mostly it's not so bad, as WH usually has either al...

I committed a cardinal sin this morning. I forgot my reusable shopping bag when I went to the farmers' market.  I left the house in a rush to get the the market before all the good stuff was gone, and in my haste, I left my bag at home.  They always have plastic bags to put the produce in, but it wasn't until today that I realized nobody ever really uses them.  As I strolled around the market picking out root veggies and the last of the summer tomatoes (and a few green ones for frying), I began to notice that everyone else had their Whole Foods and Trader Joe's bags slung over their shoulders.  There was even a token bag from The Strand .  What can I say, I live in a hipster neighborhood. And there I was, conspicuously without one.  What had started out as a jolly shopping trip turned into a covert operation as I skulked around the stalls trying not to be noticed.  But the real trouble began when I got in line to pay. I stood there behind...

I'm in my mid-thirties, I'm married, and I don't have children.  This apparently makes me some kind of circus freak.  Don't get me wrong, I like kids. I was a teacher for several years just out of college.  My friends kids are some of my most favorite little people in the world.  But apparently if you make it to my age and have managed to find a Wonderful Husband, you are expected to have children before the ink is dry on your marriage certificate. I thought that once we got engaged, I'd be free and clear of annoying questions for at least the year we were planning the wedding.  Oh how wrong I was.  In fact, I can remember a conversation I had during my work bridal shower with a senior male coworker who asked, "So, I guess we'll be hearing the patter of little feet soon enough."  I almost looked around to make sure he was talking to me.  I hadn't even gotten married yet and already I was chasing little feet?  When did this kind of comment b...

Every day has a dose of crazy.  Whether it's an urgent email about the $100 that Bill Gates wants to give me for forwarding it along, someone's potty training status update on Facebook, or an altercation in the alley outside my office window, I can't escape one day without a little madness.  I personally prefer to get my daily dose of crazy out of the way early in the morning, like taking your vitamin with breakfast, if at all possible.  Fortunately, today was one of those days.  There was a rare Morning Crazy on the bus today.  Picture it . . . packed bus, swelling to the brim with hipsters, yuppies, and working wounded.  And then, just like that old song from Sesame Street "One of These Things is Not Like the Others," crazy reared his head. Close to the front of the bus was a man who was possibly homeless, drunk, and/or mentally ill.  My jury is still out on all of the above.  At first it wasn't quite so apparent -- he was just muttering...

This weekend I celebrated a birthday.  I'm not sure why, but this particular birthday caused me a bit of an existential dilemma.  In short, I was feeling old.  Now, I realize you're only as old as you feel, age is just a number, and you shouldn't lie about your age, you should defy it, so say the great philosophers (and at least one cosmetics company).  But for some reason -- perhaps it's my increasingly creaky neck -- I'm acutely aware of aging. All day I was feeling gloomy.  I couldn't put my finger on it, but I was sour.  Eventually you reach a point, I think, where you've got more years behind you than you've got ahead of you, and I was lamenting this all day to WH.  He, of course, told me to shut it, as that would mean that I would be dead by 70.  I'm not sure why I was reflecting on my mortality, but I was. Wonderful Husband, in his usual wonderfulness, organized a gathering of my nearest and dearest to celebrate the passing o...