Political Compass

“It’s one thing to say: ‘I think the proposal on the following is a serious mistake. I think it’s gonna do the following damage.’ It’s another thing to say, ‘The guy’s a fucking idiot, and he is an egomaniac who’s a whatever.’ ”

~Joe Biden

The Zen of Field Trips

It was cold and drizzly when we left school this morning. 40 minutes late because transportation had "forgotten" us, we were on our way to Mt. Vernon. The plan for the day had already been altered to account for the weather: we would come back to school a little earlier than planned and eat lunch in our rooms, but now as we bumped along the GW Parkway, it looked like we might miss our tour of the mansion as well.

Of course the 50 kids chattering all around me had no idea that there might be a problem; half of them hadn't even worn a warm coat, and several had already eaten their entire lunch when we advised them to a have a snack while waiting for our errant bus. Conceding my powerlessness, I wiped away the condensation on the window and peered out at the iron of the Potomac. Rafts of geese, ducks, and other migratory birds floated serenely on its steely surface.

I ticked off the misty landmarks as we traveled south and noticed that the rain seemed a little less steady, and when at last the bus pulled around the circle to the familiar gate and the 55 of us piled out, it had stopped altogether. The staff at the estate kindly pushed our tour 15 minutes, and as we crunched up the damp trail toward the house, the sun actually came out a moment, and I saw blue skies for the first time in days.

Downs and UPS

The package needed a signature, which was a nuisance, because we are rarely home during the week. There was no place on any of the reminder slips to designate a neighbor or another safe place, and the phone number provided was wholly automated. When the FINAL ATTEMPT at delivery was made when we were out on Friday evening, we shrugged it off, knowing that at some point in the upcoming three day weekend we would find our way down to the customer service.

And that opportunity did indeed come this morning when we pulled into the out of the way industrial park a little off the route to our favorite grocery store. We produced the required documentation and waited in the drafty shipping office listening to a local soul station, weighing ourselves on the industrial scale, and jumping every time the automatic door eerily opened and closed all by itself at random intervals.

The clerks returned from time to time to question us about the size, value, and shipper of our expected package, openly acknowledging that they couldn't find it. After speaking to two supervisors and leaving our number, we agreed to go to the grocery store and stop again on the way home. But when we got there, they balefully informed us that we would have to file a claim.

A couple of hours later we sat in our living room griping about our bad luck. Heidi was making her way through yet another automated phone menu when a roar outside the window attracted my attention. A brown truck rumbled by. "Maybe they accidentally sent it out for delivery again and that's why they couldn't find it," I suggested. "That could be it right now!" I laughed.

Just then a recorded voice came over the phone. The latest status of that package is that it was delivered at 3:36 today, it said.

I looked at my watch.

It was 3:37.

I trotted over to the front door, and...

there it was!

A Time for Every Season

Oscar weekend beach house?

Booked!

First movie (Hidden Figures) and dinner (Peter Chang's) with the regular Oscar crew?

Check!

Here's to seven more weeks of fun.

Until Spoken To

It seems like a lot of conversations I have these days involve venting: so many people have so much to get off their chests. Like most listeners I think, my first inclination is to problem-solve complaint-by-complaint, but often it seems that such an approach results in a litany of counter complaints and reasons why my suggestions could never work. Such a conversation can quickly become frustrating for both parties, and maybe even fodder for another venting session down the road.

Recently, in fact, I was on the receiving end of a third-degree complaint: somebody complaining about somebody who complained and then refused to take their advice. I nodded sympathetically and mm hmmed at appropriate times, but was otherwise silent. "What do you think I should have done?" my friend finally asked.

I shrugged. "I've learned it's best not to give advice unless you're asked for it," I answered.

Her lit up, and she nodded vigorously. "That seems very wise!" she told me.

See what I mean?

Jackpot!

3-3-3

Three days off-- we honor Dr. King on Monday.

Three days on-- two of them will be field trips!

Three days off-- inauguration gridlock has its benefits.

Warning: Hazard Ahead

Below freezing yesterday and 70 degrees in today: this is the type of dire fluctuation in temperature that my dad used to warn us was pneumonia weather. Of course today we might be likely to chalk it up to the far more menacing hazard of climate change.

And yet, as I walked coatless to my car in the balm of this January evening, the shouts of children chased after each other through twilit yards, and the prospect of peril seemed farther away than the misty moon rising so incandescently full.