FRIED!

Jesse alerted me to this headline on our walk to work this morning. The Examiner is a free commuter paper that is produced (I think) by the Washington Times. The Times should not be confused with the Washington Post, which is an actual newspaper that has a substantial readership and rigorous commentary.

Anyway, the headline this morning pretty much sums up the past 5 days here in Washington. Although, I think "melted" is a better term, given that you're so wet that there's no way you could actually fry in this heat.

Things I Will (and Will Not) Miss in D.C. #7: Air Quality Index - Code Red!

At 8:02am today it was already 86° and the temperature is climbing. Apparently, we may hit the double digits by the afternoon (and I'm not even thinking about the heat index). The past 3 or 4 days have made me feel like melting, even in the early morning. If this weekend is any indicator of how the rest of the summer is going to unfold, our remaining 53 days in D.C. may prove to be quite miserable.

YES, WE ONLY HAVE 53 MORE DAYS!

According to an Alert D.C. Email this morning, Code Red air quality days are declared when there is stagnant air, little chance of rain, high humidity, and temperatures above 95°. Essentially, anyone who cares to breathe should stay inside and pray that their air conditioner doesn't explode from working overtime. I feel as though D.C. is giving us a little goodbye present (or swift kick out the door) with this lovey stretch of swamp weather.

On days like today I'm remind that we are, in fact, living below the Mason-Dixon line. I also really do understand why people in the south move like snails - otherwise they might just catch on fire. Although, on the plus side, if you did spontaneously ignite I'm pretty sure the sweat pouring down your body would squelch the flames.

I don't think we've had temperatures and humidity this high since my first summer as an intern in 2003. I distinctly remember sobbing on my way to work some mornings because I was so sweaty and hot (I only lived 3 blocks from the office at the time). My friend Lauren and I would gather at the water cooler, fan ourselves, and compare sweat stains that ran from the collar of our shirts all the way down our spines. If we were lucky, the perspiration under our arms wouldn't connect to the stripe down our backs. It was during our summer internship that we coined the phrase "sweattin' like a fat man." If you've ever visited D.C. between June and August, you'll know exactly what I mean.

As a side note, yesterday in Portland it was 66° and crystal clear. As I shake my fists at weather.com wondering how life could be so cruel, I try to remind myself that we're in the home stretch.

We are in the home stretch. We are in the home stretch....

**3:30pm Update**

I had to walk to the post office to mail more packages and decided to check out the trusty Suntrust Bank thermometer in Dupont Circle. Code Red Indeed!

Organizing the Apartment: An Initial Survey

About 4 weeks ago, the Washington Post began a series of articles called "Organizing the Attic." The articles follow the Post's deputy editor for the Home section as she embarks on controlling the chaos on her top floor. I've been religiously reading the weekly entries and anxiously awaiting the teaser lines for the next week's topic. Last week, organizing holiday decorations, was not very useful since I don't really have any in our tiny apartment. However, this week's post about organizing books could not have been more timely.

Given that we only have 56 more days until lift off, last weekend Jesse and I decided to start unravelling the chaos of stored items in the apartment. The idea of packing up all of our stuff was a little overwhelming, so we decided we had to start somewhere. We couldn't know what to toss and what to keep if we had no clue what was stored in the depths of our "organization." So we decided to divide and conquer. Jesse burrowed into our walk-in closet and I got started on the books. Like the editor of the Washington Post articles, I'd like to be able to easily use my husband as a scapegoat for the shelves of books around our home, but alas, I too came into this relationship with a lot of book baggage. And since we both contributed to the problem, we both had to make decisions about which books we thought we might actually use again. It felt good to go through the titles that we hadn't read in a while, and to stumble on the total head-scratchers like the duplicate copies of three different volumes of Foucault.

Most of my Saturday afternoon was spent flipping through dusty pages, assessing their condition, and posting them on Amazon's Marketplace. I was astonished how many we sold in just 24 hours (this photo shows only half of what I sent out this week). We both wondered why we hadn't done this a long time ago, but then realized that we probably would have spent the cash on gadgets or beer. So, the moral of the story is that hoarding actually worked in our favor this time. All of those books that were just collecting dust might actually pay for one of our plane tickets to Portland. Sweet!

Next step: the CD collection (insert evil laugh). I liked The Crane Wife's post Wednesday about taming the wild music beast, but I imagine I'd incite an all-out mutiny on Columbia Road if I advocated the philosophy of "in with the old." And, to Jesse's credit, he does purge the collection occasionally. So, for now, I'm hoping for a system of storage that doesn't include the double-deep layering thing that makes it nearly impossible to access entire letters of the alphabet!

Things I Will (and Will Not) Miss in D.C. #6: Rock Creek Park and the National Zoo

Most days I take for granted the awesome park and zoo that is only about a 10 minute walk from our house. It's lush (and cooler) in the summer, beautiful with color in the fall, and is one of Jesse's favorite running spots in the morning. The bridge you see in the photo is the Connecticut Avenue (or Taft) bridge and is just one of the many magnificent structures that span the Rock Creek Valley. Rock Creek originates somewhere up in Maryland, snakes through D.C., and ends at the Potomac River. The creek is much less impressive than the beautiful natural areas that inhabit the valley, as well as the hiking/biking trails throughout. The National Zoo is located near the southern end of Rock Creek and is a little oasis within the city. Oh, and did I mention that it's FREE?!

I love the fact that there is no pressure for us to see and do everything in one visit. If one afternoon I want see the pygmy hippos and Jesse wants to watch the gibbons, we walk on down and explore only the areas that are of interest. We both have pretty fond memories of the zoo and frequented the park early on in our relationship. Why? Because, well, animals are always surprising and it was a cheap way to get away from grad school papers and stress. Jesse's first apartment in Adams Morgan faced the zoo and in the early morning if he had his windows open, we could hear the gibbons screeching their distinctive call and response. One Saturday morning, we decided to take a walk over to try and catch the gibbons live. I don't remember if we made it in time, but I think the payoff was worth it. The animals are all so much more active in the morning. Maybe it's because of an early feeding time, or they get up at dawn and then nap through D.C.'s oppressive afternoon heat.

As we rounded the corner from the gibbons area, we noticed that one of the orangutans was making her daily trip from the Think Tank to the Great Ape House via the "O Line." It's basically two ropes that span from giant towers throughout the park and the orangutans are free to come and go as they please. On this particular morning, the lady orangutan had gathered quite a crowd below and she was in no hurry to scoot along. There was a frantic park ranger trying to shoo people at least 15 feet away, and I thought, "oh god, she's going to jump." But no, she stuck out her rump, and dropped a giant poo right on the sidewalk. I'm pretty sure I saw her chuckle as she continued on her way down the O-line. The crowd let out a giant gasp and turned away in horror. The cleanup crew was there in seconds to wash it all away - apparently she loves targeting unsuspecting tourists. When we both turned to each other and cracked up, because poop is hilarious, I knew it was true love.

If you're not a morning person, then I'd wait to go in the late afternoon, say around 3:30-4:30pm. It's an unofficial witching hour that sets off internal clocks within most small children. During this hour you can witness the distinctive animal-like behavior that goes along with total brain meltdown. No amount of ice cream or snacks can prevent child unraveling during this crucial hour, so grab a bench and prepare to ride out the wave of terror at the zoo. The signs of pending toddler explosion include: irrational and unintelligible screaming/moaning, jello-like bones that make walking an impossible feat, and disheveled hair and clothing that is usually smeared with red and purple snow cone juice. These children are always accompanied by a set of ragged parents who are feverishly speed-dialing their pharmacy for extra reserves of birth control (while dragging the aforementioned jello-boned child). Don't try and feed the worn-down family, and for god's sake don't make direct eye contact - unless you enjoy getting a stroller or box of popcorn in your face. Just bow your head and walk quickly away from the scene.

Ahh. I will miss our afternoon walks in D.C.

60 More Days

This weekend marked a milestone. It's time. We're ready. And it's only 60 days away (yes I have counted).

We let the cat out of the bag at our happy hour at Angles on Friday. It's amazing how much information you will divulge after 2 beers and no dinner (in this particular instance, I was not the giant blabber mouth). J told several of his coworkers and former coworkers about our time frame for moving to the West Coast. I have to say, it felt pretty good.

Back in April, we set a tentative date of July 31st, but only shared the deadline with a select few. While we have talked freely with our families about specific plans for moving, we've been holding our cards close with our friends and coworkers in D.C. Mostly, we didn't want to cause unnecessary drama and speculation, but also, until recently we really weren't entirely sure when we would take the plunge.

The turning point in our decision was the trip to G graduation. Even though our time in California was incredibly short, we both totally forgot about our stress at home. I slept like a log (an occurrence that has eluded me for the past two months) and J was much more relaxed.

Reality set in this morning at work when I created my time sheet for June. Oh Crap! We're really doing this and I have to tell my boss my plans in exactly 30 days! I also have to finish my DC Modernism study, which is most likely the cause of my sleepless nights. But nothing like a deadline to give you a swift kick in the butt right?

The thought of all the things we need to do in 60 days gives me hives. However, J has been the keeper of sanity and manager of my mini meltdowns, so for that I am grateful. Hopefully in a couple of weeks, I'll be rocking the Portland air guitar as well!