Of Late

On Tuesday we went to see the sights in D.C. with our niece from Idaho. That was interesting. We went to see the National Archives and saw The Declaration of Independence, the Bill of Rights, and a copy of the Magna Carta (one of the four) some colonist had. I hate to sound ignorant, but it was pretty boring. The place was so dimly lit (for preservation purposes, I am sure) that to read anything was nearly impossible. You could practically take a nap in there. In fact, the security guard standing next to the Declaration was doing just that.

Next we looked at the White House and then went up into the Washington Monument. You know, that big masonic spear just smack in the middle of the city. It was pretty high up. I enjoyed seeing the National Cathedral (one of my favorite places) in the distance, northwest. The Professor did not go up as he is afraid of heights. I am a little afraid of heights, I guess. Once up on the top I felt pretty dizzy and wanted to go down. My sister in law already bolted so I was left with the kids and my niece, who was doing just fine. Eraser Eater started to pull stuff because he hadn't seen the north side of the monument and I was ready to puke and go to the elevator. "You get to see the north side and you get barf in your pocket," I said. He obeyed reluctantly.

We were going to go to the National Gallery of Art (where we frequent whenever we are in the city) but we happened to be walking by the Museum of Natural History and just went in there as time was running out. The Girl held all the available live insects in the insect section. The boys sort of ran the other direction and watched her from behind an exhibit. Even my niece held a worm, which is one of my room 101s. 

On a lighter note, this past week the Girl has been sick and I have been trying to avoid the germ, as Howard Hughes as I can get at times. At one point, my brain was so lacking one morning while waiting for my coffee to brew, that I accidentally drank from her pill-taking glass. In great panic I quickly gathered my wits and tried to think of a way to kill the now ingested germ. "Liquid disinfectant," I thought,"Rubbing alcohol---what can I drink? I can't drink that." My brain was only half functioning. 

Like lightning, I remembered that I had hard liquor in the upper cabinet above my head. I grabbed the first bottle I saw: bourbon from the sangrias I made at Christmas. I swiftly uncapped it and chugged. Ok, so it was in the morning and I almost puked. It burned slowly all the way down, and I imagine it would have burned all the way back up too! Foul stuff.

So far, I am fine. I guess that works, eh?