180 Degrees

I had quite the full weekend. I drove to DC on Friday night, slept on my sister's couch, and did the Walk for Lupus Now walk on Saturday morning. Mom walked with me and we had a really good time. Right now, I've raised a little over $700 and donations are still coming. I had quite the sense of accomplishment after we were done, and so did my legs. Whew! We stopped at Au Bon Pain before going back to my car and ate a muffin while sitting outside and watching people walk by. People watching in DC is always fun. We could've stayed all day, but I was exhausted and needed a nap before my godchild's birthday party that afternoon.

Kay's second birthday party was held at Gymboree. There were 8 small children playing, running, and jumping about, all the while screaming and laughing. Just watching them increased my level of exhaustion exponentially. Times like that make me thankful that I don't have small children. It was fun to watch them because inevitably, every 90 seconds one of them would do something that made me laugh, but I don't think I could've handled it if I had been responsible for one of them and would've had to actively participate in the organized chaos.

After the party, I went to Kay's mother's house (referred to in other posts as "my bestest sistahgurlfriend") and had a great meal and watched Kay open her presents. She had the biggest reaction to gifts of clothes. Quite funny.

I got back to my sister's a little after 9 p.m. and was too tired to make the two hour journey back to the Eastern Shore, so I slept on her couch for another night.

On Sunday, I had a work event to attend in St. Michaels. Before I could leave St. Michaels, my gas light came on, so I pulled into a High's Dairy Store to get some gas. When I got out of the car, I caught a glimpse of a very familiar face that was pumping gas at the pump in front of me. Two seconds later, I realized it was Donald Rumsfeld. (He, Dick Chaney, and other well known DC types own homes in St. Michaels.) I looked around for the Secret Service and quickly realized that he would not have a detail with him at this point. While checking out my surroundings, I noticed that everyone that was pumping gas was either wearing a suit or had on I-just-went-fishing clothes.

He saw the look of recognition in my face and looked away. In the minute that we were less than three yards apart, I came up with a cadre of things to say to him, none of which were kind, complementary, original, or appropriate so I let the opportunity slip away. He spilled some gas on the ground while replacing the pump, got back into the passenger's seat (the white Toyota SUV was being driven by a blond woman with dark sunglasses), and the truck pulled away.

When I shared this story with a friend of mine, she reminded me of an observation I made about four years ago when I was living in Baltimore.

My neighborhood grocery store was in a crack, prostitute, drunk, gang infested part of town. On one particular early Sunday morning, I drove the six blocks to the store and got stopped at one of the two traffic lights between my house and the store. It was during the summer, so my windows were down and since it was such a short ride, I hadn't turned on my radio. While sitting at this light, I looked over and saw a man in jeans and a big white t-shirt sitting on the front stoop of a house that was located next to a bar. The front of his shirt was covered with blood and there was blood coming from somewhere in his face. I'm not sure that he was aware of who or where he was. A woman that was walking down the sidewalk in a serpentine pattern while struggling to hold up her head and keep her balance, stopped in front of the man, looked him over and proclaimed, "I don't know whatchu did, but I betcha won't do that shit no mo'", and shuffled down the street. I wanted to laugh but was too scared.

Downtown Baltimore with drunk, high, and injured people on the street to St. Michaels with Donald Rumsfeld pumping gas. Boy, has my life changed.

No rant today. Just sharing. :)