Like an Old Pair of Slippers

For my debut as a volunteer field trip chaperone, I reported to school by 7:20 and stayed until 3:45. I got a chance to catch up with my friends and former colleagues and see a bunch of 7th and 8th graders I knew, too. Before we boarded the buses, I played a few card games, reminded a teacher to share the groups with her homeroom, and watched part of Ice Age. There might have been a Kahoot, but the kids had been instructed to leave their iPads in their lockers. The weather at Mount Vernon was perfect, and the kids I met were typical sixth graders, funny, silly, impulsive, and smart. I came home tired but energized and sort of happy I didn't have to go back tomorrow.

Trust the Process

 I knew the power washers were out there.

I mean, how could you not? The drone of the compressor, the spray of the water against vinyl siding, the barking of the neighborhood dogs all alerted anyone within earshot of their presence. And I was glad-- glad that they were early, glad I had drawn the curtains so that our pets wouldn't be alarmed, and glad to have a thorough cleaning underway (that I didn't have to do!), and glad I'd be able to move all my stuff back soon.

But when the din subsided and I peaked outside at our dripping but still very grungy deck, I was dismayed. Is that all there is? I wondered, and considered going to find the foreman of the crew and show him the grime in the corners. But the Surely? I moved all my outdoor possessions for more section of my brain prevailed, and I waited.

Right before lunch the racket geared up again, but then I was stuck inside as the front porch was thoroughly scoured. Fortunately that process was short-lived, but before I took Lucy out to enjoy this glorious weather, I inspected all the outdoor spaces and found them less than sparkling. Leaning over the railing and craning my neck down the way, I saw other railings and walls much cleaner that ours. Maybe it's just lunch? I surmised, and out we went.

90 minutes later we returned to a couple of extension ladders leaning against the house, and yellow foul-weather gear clad workers on our decks doing some detail work. By 2:30, they had really moved on. Compressors, ladders, and crews were all assembled at the next building to begin washing, and after my inspection, I had few complaints. 

Mamma Said There'd Be Days Like This

Unfortunately, today was one of those days retirement seems to be made for. 

I started before 8 a.m., clearing off the decks and front porch so they could be power-washed. The chore included saying goodbye to the hanging plants for the season, thanking them for their service, emptying their pots, and dragging heavy garbage bags full of organic discard to the curb. It also involved spreading out a tarp by the sliding glass door in the living room, stowing various outdoor items there, and moving several cumbersome items from the front porch to the breezeway. Finally, I charged up the leafblower and cleared away as much detritus as possible.

And then, the power-washing team didn't make it to our unit.

But I didn't know that right away because a few weeks ago when I tried to pay the property tax and then renew the registration on our second car, I was surprised to see that it was not listed under our accounts. I put in a help request to the DMV in Richmond and was pleasantly surprised when someone called me the very next day. Between the two of us, we figured out that the leasing company had reported the vehicle as sold after I had retitled it, so officially, nobody owned it. Fortunately, I had the title and registration, but unfortunately, I had to go to the DMV in person to resolve the issue. But before I could do that, I had to have the emissions checked to both clear the title and renew the registration on the same visit.

As efficient as that process might sound, it took over three hours to acquire those two little square stickers for the license plate. I did get to spend a lot of time observing a fascinating cross-section of my fellow residents, and trying to decipher the DMV's system for prioritizing and calling those of us waiting for service was also an exciting diversion.

Then, it was time to pick Heidi up from school, and as we had agreed earlier, we stopped for early voting at the community center on our way home. There, we ran into two former students and a former colleague who were variously working at the center, volunteering at the polls, and voting.

It felt great to do our democratic duty, and as we headed home, I looked forward to replacing all the items on our freshly cleaned decks.

But that will have to be tomorrow. Luckily? I don't have to go to work.

WWGWD

We took a ride out to Mount Vernon this afternoon. The day was perfect for it: azure blue skies, warm, golden sunshine, and some nice fall color in the trees. We enjoyed it all the way down the Parkway.

George Washington's estate is still privately owned, and out of respect for the first president's love of them, the Mount Vernon Ladies Association allows dogs on the grounds. In part, because Lucy is always welcome there, we hold membership passes, but in advance of the sixth-grade field trip this week (which marks my debut as an approved school volunteer), we realized that our membership had lapsed, and I was going to need a ticket.

We renewed our membership in short order but decided to take a quick stroll around the grounds, even though we would both be back in a few days. Lucy is always fascinated by the livestock, so after the obligatory portrait on the bowling green, we headed over to the pig sty, sheep pen, and cattle fields. Then, it was through the orchard and nursery beds to see the river. 

The green expanse of the rear lawn was dotted with visitors. Most were enjoying the views, some were relaxing in the shade on blankets, and others were tossing footballs and having a catch with baseballs and mitts. "Wow!" I said to Heidi, "They really must feel at home here."

I couldn't quite let it go, though, so I continued, "But should they? Should they?"

So the Museum

The second most notable event of yesterday was the museum. Let me start by saying, "Ummm..?" and tilting my head to find the right words. (Full disclosure: This same task was so impossible yesterday that when I got home and Heidi asked how the day was, I had to find a YouTube video to explain.)

Spanning five four-story row houses on O Street, the place is a junk shop, maze, historical site, event space, and hotel combo. In addition to vintage toys, baseball cards, dishes, clothing, holiday decorations, and so forth, it also has 80 secret doors and staircases, historical artifacts, a room where Rosa Park spent a considerable amount of time, and 30 theme hotel rooms, including a 2-story log cabin with a kitchenette (just $3100 a night). 

And? Everything is for sale.

 

Coincidentally

I had my first retired friend's lunch today. A former counselor who retired a few years ago and I got together for lunch and a museum visit, but it turned out to be a crazy kind of day. 

When she texted me a couple of weeks ago, I was scrolling through part-time jobs and had just seen an opening for a museum docent. Not recognizing the address, I searched for the place and found The Mansion on O Street. After living here for 35 years, it's not often that I come across local attractions that I have never heard of before, but this was one. 

I copied the link. "How about this place?" I texted my friend.

"Looks fun," she agreed and suggested lunch at Pizzeria Paradiso. 

It had been years since I'd eaten there, but I had recently read an article about the owner and was eager to go back, and so a plan was hatched.

The two of us split a delicious salad and butternut squash pizza with goat cheese, sage, and bacon and were headed out of the restaurant and on to the museum when I heard someone call my name. I turned around and recognized a couple my sister, brother, and I were friends with 38 years ago when we lived in Virginia Beach. 

We hugged, of course, and marveled at the crazy, random encounter. We did a quick catch-up, facilitated by a sprinkling of social media posts over the years, and then we promised to stay in touch and went on our way.

As we walked toward the museum, I thought of all the coincidences and chance occurrences that led to that meeting and how a few seconds on either side would have changed everything. "How often do you think that happens?" I asked my friend, "That you are within steps of people you know but never cross paths with?"

"Probably more often than you would think," she answered. "But how can you ever know?"

A License for That

Whenever we went out to breakfast this summer, my friend Mary would update us on the license plate game she and her sister were playing. Their goal was to spot all 50 states before school started again, and by mid-August, all they needed was Hawaii.

I enjoyed following their progress, maybe because our family played the license plate game on every road trip when we were kids. My mom, who usually drove, loved the game, and although the plates were tough to spot from the backseat, we were all pretty good at it, usually compiling a list of between 25 and 30 on a 3-hour trip down the I95 corridor from Philly to DC.

Years later, my mom played the game in the parking deck at the Mayo Clinic, especially when it was crowded, and we had to wind our way up several levels to find a spot and then make our way back down after the appointment. Riding shotgun, she was very sharp-eyed and could identify cars from all over the country, probably 10-15 a visit.

Now, my sister plays whenever she drives around her hometown of Atlanta. She adds an extra challenge, too, predicting how many different states she might see on any given errand, and she's as good as my mom ever was. 

When we got stuck in terrible traffic on the way back from the beach this summer, Treat and I played. Like Courtney, he added an extra challenge, but his was not writing any of them down. Instead, he would chant them in order whenever we saw a new plate. For my part, I predicted we would find 30, and we did.

Since I retired and it stopped raining, Lucy and I have been walking 3-5 miles a day through the neighborhood, and recently, I noticed just how many out-of-state cars there are parked on the streets around here. For example, today we saw ten: Virginia, Maryland, DC, Florida, Georgia, South Carolina, Alabama, Pennsylvania, Washington, and Hawaii. That's a pretty good showing by any of the standards above.