WashingTina

I gave an interview recently , which got me thinking about an interview my grandmother did a few years before she died.  She'd had knee replacement surgery and the local paper in Rehoboth, where she and my grandfather had retired, wanted to do a profile of her.  A little background information: my grandmother had to be one of the most hilarious individuals I've ever met, whether she was trying to be or not.  She loved cocktails (Beefeater martini, two olives, please), she could give TMZ a run for its money when it came to the collection and distribution of gossip, and she never left the house without lipstick.  Several years before the infamous interview, she'd had major back surgery and mostly used a walker to get around.  Not that that stopped her from much of anything, especially a good happy hour.  As long as I can remember, she and my grandfather went bowling.  They loved it and even played in a league.  But other than that, she wasn't particularly athletic.  So

Although these changes have come, with your chrome heart shining, in the sun, long may you run . . . -Neil Young "Long May You Run" I consider myself quite the sentimental fool. All my life, I've been attached to inanimate objects.  My father loves to remind me of how I cried when they sold the family's old Ford Pinto.  I was four.  I'll be the first to admit that I hang on to things long past their usefulness simply because they hold good memories for me.  Unfortunately for me (and maybe even moreso for WH), this leads to packrat tendencies that make me live in fear of becoming a hoarder -- but that's another story for another day.  I had a dream earlier this week about my first car, Flash.  Yes, my car had a name.  Not only did she have a name, but she had a personality. Flash was a 1983 Mustang GLX 5.0 red convertible -- told ya, personality -- a 16-year-old girl's dream car.  And I loved that car like it was a person.  In fact, one time after colle

Last night WH and I were meeting our friends Party On and The Funny Man for dinner downtown. The Funny Man was coming on Metro, which is always a delight on a nearly-100 degree Friday evening.  Party On arrived first, so we enjoyed some cocktails while we waited. TFM sent a text shortly thereafter, saying "It smells like dirty sneaker ass in a basement in here," and we knew it wasn't going well on Metro.  About 20 minutes later TFM arrived with news of a sick passenger and an offloading train.  This got us talking about the infamous Sick Passenger.  At least once a week this guy gums up the works by getting sick on the train.  As a result, the train is offloaded or held up at the station, keeping other trains backed up in the system.  This begs the question, who exactly is the Sick Passenger?  We started hypothesizing and came up with several ideas.  Maybe SP had the flu. Perhaps he was throwing up all over the car, requiring an offload and clean up.  This would certa

Today's Washington Post had an great article about a public transportation phenomenon that we all know and loathe: the seat hog.  These delightful individuals "place purses, briefcases, feet or wet umbrellas on seats next to them in jammed trains" and buses, I might add.  Their sense of entitlement knows no bounds.  I mean, sure, your backpack is really tired after a long day of hauling around your stuff, and that old lady standing in the aisle is probably going to die soon anyway, so go ahead, take that extra seat.  The Post article also alludes to the fact that civility has gone the way of the air conditioned Metro car.  As George Costanza would say, "We're living in a society !"  So why aren't we acting like it?  I'll be the first to admit that I'd rather not sit squished up against another rider, particularly in these 90+ degree days.  But odds are pretty good that it's not fun for them either.  What's the solution?  We've go

We had an earthquake in D.C. today (well, Rockville, actually, but I sure felt it at my house).  Before you get all, "This is just a hiccup to Californians" on me, let's stop and think for a minute. I've lived here the bulk of my 30+ years and I've never felt an earthquake.  It was the highest "magnitude" (what ever happened to the Richter Scale ?) quake since they started measuring them in 1979.  And earthquakes just don't happen here .  This is news. I was shaken awake at 5:04 a.m. I don't know why or how I knew, but I was certain it was an earthquake.  Then I remembered that earthquakes just don't happen here and thought I was probably crazy.  I waited to hear if there were sirens (there weren't) or if I could hear any movement from any of my neighbors (I couldn't) so I did what any rational person would do . . . I checked Twitter. And thankfully, my tweeps let me know that I was not crazy, that they had been shaken too.  Then

This morning's rain had me thinking about an umbrella.  This is a phenomenon of which we are all aware, yet rarely pay attention to.  Most of us have lost an umbrella at least once (and probably more than) in our lives.  But I'd be willing to bet we've all also "found" an umbrella at least once, too.  And my educated guess is that there are very few of us who have actually purchased an umbrella (more than once, anyway).  WH and I went down the street to Circa to watch the World Cup game and have a little lunch (fantastic roast beef sandwich, by the way).  I toted an umbrella with me, unsure if the day's weather would hold or not.  We were walking back home under the partly cloudy sky as I realized that I had left my umbrella next to my chair.  I chalked it up to that grand phenomenon, releasing it into the world secure in the knowledge that one would come back to me at some point.  I have no qualms about picking up an umbrella from the bar at the end of t

There are few things that bring Washingtonians more glee that heaping insults upon the much-maligned Washington Metropolitan Area Transit Authority ( WMATA ).  I've certainly done my fair share of it.  Today's as good as any, too, with temperatures soaring into the triple digits and the " heat kink " causing delays on Red Line tracks.  Needless to say, rush hour commutes were snarled with long waits on overheated platforms.  And what better way to keep yourself entertained than by playing along to a snarky little WMATA Drinking Game*?  My friend the Policy Lawyer and I came up with this little gem over the course of a few days last week.  See if you can find your favorite Metro faux pas listed below: One  drink for tourists who stand on the left of the escalator; two  drinks for escalator disruptions; and finish your drink if the escalator stops while you're on it. One  drink for someone singing; two if they're not wearing headphones. One  drink for ev