Various asundries

It’s the second Thursday of a two-week recess, which would on its face seem like a well-rested place to be. And it sort of is. We’ve been enjoying first-class weather here in D.C. the last few weeks, absolutely spectacular, San Diego-esque. Last Friday, Sarah and I went out to the Old Town Alexandria docks around 11 p.m. and sat in about 58 degree weather, watching an amazing lightening storm sitting over the far side of the Potomac. I’d forgotten how wonderful spring is around here. Unfortunately a rather prolific stack of mail is preventing me from enjoying it as much as I’d like! But I shouldn’t complain… as my Chief of Staff reminds me, it’s job security.

I don’t have too much profound to say; housekeeping items, mostly. As many of you saw below (and thank you to those who graciously passed along your condolences), my dear kitty had to be put down on Tuesday. It was a very emotional thing for me because she was the last surviving pet of my youth. She’s been around since I was seven, so picturing home without Rosie is about as abstract as picturing D.C. without the Washington Monument. It’s hard to let go, but I have a lot to be thankful for. She wasn’t suffering at all until the last twenty-four hours or so (sudden renal failure), which is pretty good for an old cat. I also got to see her two weeks ago when I was home and she even recognized me, which was very sweet. I guess it was a goodbye and I just didn’t quite know it at the time. It may sound ridiculous theologically, but on the off chance there is a place God takes good cats, it’s fun to think that my two kitties are together causing trouble again.

Also, since I previously failed to reply to those who were asking “are you really Irish?” (referencing my post below, “Found”), the answer is yes. Best we can tell (I spoke with my parents about this when I was home to get the story straight), I am roughly half Scandinavian (Swedish and Norwegian), about a quarter Irish (Flanagan is the family name from the Emerald Isle), and the other part is a heinz-57 mix of other Anglo-Saxon (Welsh and English), Scottish, and French-Canadian. By the way, Peter, I’m really interested to know what you think “being Welsh” looks like since you thought I was. I guess it does make sense, though, as my last name is Welsh from what I understand.

In other identity crisis news, the following was a real conversation I had with a friend of a friend last night:

“Where are you from?”
“San Diego.”
“Really?!”
(sort of surprised by adamant response) “Yeah… why?”
“Well, I’m wondering where your accent is from.”
“My accent? Where do I sound like I’m from?”
“The South – not deep, but I thought Virginia for sure.”

And last week Allis said I’d come back with my California accent. Ha.

I’m gearing up for a very busy spring schedule, but want to focus on just one weekend at a time. This weekend: my first trip to New York City! I am ridiculously excited about it and will be sure to post pictures, since my blog has been so picture-deficit lately. Wish us luck in navigating the Big Apple. Regardless, it’s going to be a blast. Maybe I can find Trinity Church... Heere at the Wall. (If you don't know what I'm talking about, you clearly don't know my taste in men. *grin*)

They say the neon lights are bright on Broadway,
They say there's always magic in the air...