OK, so this bride is feeling screwed. I get it.  (We won’t talk about the whole Bard Chapel quote…because well, I don’t feel like reliving the trauma…)  But come. the. frell. on. woman.  Look at a map.  Seriously.  While you were “up at Bard getting [your] Master’s,” did you ever venture off Rt. 9G?

Oh, and uh…Yahoo? 1) Pick up the damn phone, and 2) you need to look at a map as well.

• First of all, it’s Dutchess County, with a T. You may think it’s spelled wrong, but it’s named after Dutch people.
• Second of all, while Clermont’s mailing address says it’s in Germantown, it’s actually pretty far from ye olde Palatine Pizza.  It sits much closer to the actual locality called — gasp! — Clermont.
• Third of all, Clermont is not “five minutes” from Rhinebeck, and neither is Germantown. More like fifteen miles. Not even the Secret Service drives that fast.  Unless someone invented teleporting when I wasn’t looking.
• Fourth of all, hey! You got something correct! Rhinebeck is, in fact, between Clermont and Staatsburg, geographically.

After all, no matter what you hear about the Secret Service bullying local police, they’re not idiots; and Troop K is not run by complete morons.  This isn’t their first rodeo; they have advance people working out the necessary road closures out now.  If you’re nice to the troopers instead of whining to the press, they’ll probably give you what you need to know as soon as they can.  The Clintons are a presidential family, sure, but it’s not Woodstock, OK?

So here’s my advice: print up a nice map with a detour for your guests.  They’ll probably have to drive about ten extra miles, but it’s scenic as all get-out.  (I know, I had to detour off 9G myself this spring.)  I mean, I know Google Maps tells you you just have to go through Rhinebeck, but there are paved roads all over the place up there.  Warn your vendors — who, if you have any sense at all, are locals — that they’ll need to take the back roads.  If you have to spend some time on the phone calling individual guests ahead of time, then by gum you’ll just have to do that yourself.

And if you can’t do that, then take up my friend Jeanne’s offer to help with your wedding.  She’s awesome!  Heck.  Just do that anyway!

City people. Sheesh.

I hardly know where to start. She’s the youngest of three girls, and enjoyed it growing up.  She was a cheerleader, if you can believe that my mom was a cheerleader.  (I know, right?)  She loves sports, and you should see her house on Thanksgiving.  It’s like Bizarro world: her husband is in the kitchen making the turkey and stuffing, while we’re in the living room watching the football.

When she was still a young thing, I came along.  And boy, did she sacrifice it all for me.  I can’t imagine how she did it.  She worked like a crazy person to make sure we had what we needed, and always managed to make sure that I was able to take advantage of any opportunity which came my way.  School trip to Russia?  Made it happen.  Traveling to the prom in Carolina?  Made it happen.  Graduation trip to Britain?  Made it happen.  She always expected only that I try my best to do well at whatever I was doing, and give her the respect she deserved.  I hope that I was satisfactory there.  Well, except when I was a teenager, but, well…I was a teenager.

Mom, you’re the greatest.  Thanks for doing everything you have done for me over the years.  You’ve been the most wonderful, supportive, and giving mom I could ever have dreamed of.  I love you so much.

• Birthday Lyric of the day: “the girls comb their hair in rearview mirrors, and the boys try to look so hard”
• Birthday Flashback of the day: Moving back to Red Hook…again
• Birthday song that’s playing now?  The Killers’ “I Can’t Stay,” off Day & Age.
• Birthday photo of the day:
  

  Happy Birthday Mom!

But, this problem of photogs being harrassed is nothing new.  That’s not actually what grabbed my attention.  What really got me was a particular comment on the item.  This commenter sort of ranted and raved about how these photogs were just wasting police time, and breaking the law anyway, and should not be doing terrorist-like things, such as taking photographs of tourist attractions.  Of course, it was the private security guards who called the cops and wasted their time; it was not illegal anyway.  Sigh.  Then, after a couple of other commenters challenged him, he started in on the archaic nature of the Bill of Rights (“the BoR was written in a different time”), and that people just shouldn’t be taking pictures because, uh…terrorism!  Or something.  (Ah, the blogosphere…)

I’m a resident of the nation’s capital region.  This sort of attitude fills me with despair.

“The BoR was written in a different time?!”  Oh my.  Actually, while it’s true that the eighteenth century was, you know, not exactly yesterday, let’s make a note of the fact that it’s Independence Day weekend and focus on why the Bill of Rights exists. It was written because, after seven years of bloody war, the utter failure of the Articles of Confederation, and bitter negotiation and ugly compromising to get the Constitution ratified, people like James Madison and Thomas Jefferson realized that the original Constitution was actually still not enough; the BoR was introduced in 1791. It pushed ratification over the finish line and is enshrined next to the Constitution at the National Archives.

(Now, photography is actually not allowed inside the Archives Rotunda.  It’s sort of ironic, in that Alanis Morissette way.  But photography’s not banned there because the good folks at the NARA are afraid those packs of elementary school kids are going to set fire to the place, or anything like that.  It’s actually to do with flashbulbs and light meters; the documents are already pretty severely light-damaged.)

So, whether or not he wants to bring a camera, that dude should come visit.  It’s free!  Happy Fourth of July, Americans!  Play your Friday Musical Interlude while waving sparklers and watching fireworks this weekend.

• Lyric of the day: “Feel free to shout it out; speak your mind, spit it out!”
• Flashback of the day: Fort Ticonderoga field trip.  (Best field trip evah!)
• What’s playing now? Cutting Crew’s “(I Just) Died in Your Arms,” off Broadcast.
• Photo of the day:
  

  U.S. Capitol Dome, January, 2009

We’ve known each other since we were 12, on and off through the years (I came and went from the old hometown a few times, you see). By the time high school finished, we were good friends. KT used to sit somewhere nearby in several classes (T, W, you know, alphabetical order); he was constantly stealing my notebooks and drawing in them, thus preventing me from taking notes on those days when he showed up for class. I must have graduated with fifty Guys in my English notebooks. I’m pretty nerdy and this habit of KT’s was quite an area of concern for me, at least until I was admitted to college and stopped caring mid-way through senior year. We lent each other books and music, and joked a lot. In the end we left each other “study hall chats” in our senior wills. Heh.

Fast-forward to Boxing Day, when KT and I met up for a cup of coffee in town as we were both “home for the holidays.” What was expected to be a 30-minute catch-up session turned into a few hours of genuine, grown-up conversation.  A pleasant holiday meeting turned into smack-talking emails during the NFL playoffs. Smack-talking emails turned into hilarious phone calls and suddenly I have my old, dear friend back again!

KT appreciates that I can understand what he’s talking about, when he talks about his work. He’s generously shared that work with me, and I treasure it. Meanwhile, he listens patiently as I rabbit on about any old thing, and encourages my small kernel of creativity. We make each other laugh, and agree that vanilla milkshakes are basically pointless. A springtime highlight was a grand couple of days’ visiting together on the old home stomping grounds, and I hope that KT will remember to keep me on his itinerary as he hits the road this summer and fall.

If you need someplace to store your X-Box or whatever, it’s welcome, as are you. I envy you. Happy birthday.

• Lyric of the day: “under the tree, the river laughing at you and me”
• Flashback of the day: Tim Burton’s Batman, obvs.
• What’s playing now? Liz Phair’s “Supernova”, off Whip-Smart.
• Photo of the day:
  

  Is he like Zoolander? Can't look to his right?

PS — You laugh, but I am confident that you’ll be thanking me for the Range Rover game when you’ve been on the Interstate for a while.

I have a few ideas, and once my partner and I settle on something I’m sure we will knock it out with no problems.  But it’s kind of off-putting just now.  Oh well…Hoya Saxa!  I will work at Monumental. I will work at Monumental.  I will…

Anyhoodle: topic ideas are welcome.  I’m hoping to finish the outline while next to the pool this weekend…yes, I’m headed for Va. Beach and a girls’ weekend away with SNZP and JD, which should be fun!  SNZP doesn’t know I plan on picking her brain for another paper that I have coming due in a few weeks, but I figure if I do it poolside, while bringing her a steady supply of cocktails, she won’t mind so much.

Last night I saw a beautiful bit of space junk burning up in the sky.  So, for today’s Friday musical interlude:

Tubular!

• Lyric of the day: “It’s wrong to wish on space hardware. I wish, I wish, I wish you cared.”
• Flashback of the day: PAL!
• What’s playing now? the Portugal – Brazil World Cup match!
• Photo of the day:
  

  Why yes, Warren Brown, I could indeed go for a cupcake right now!

I did remember to be a decent firstborn child though, and call Dear Old Dad on Father’s Day.  So it wasn’t a total loss.

It’s Monday again, and a million degrees — a fitting temperature for the summer solstice.  Have I mentioned that I don’t like summer?  And this week our temps will probably hit triple digits.  Joy.  Rapture.  Construction has begun in my office; another thing that makes me not-happy.  I guess I’ve got a case of the Mondays!

“It’s not just about me, and my dream of doing nothing.”

So let’s cheer up with some Tidbits:

• Lyric of the day: “I like your face, but I can’t anymore”
• Flashback of the day: TM playing Nine Inch Nails at, well…Eleven
• What’s playing now?  The Killers’ “Why Do I Keep Counting?” off Sam’s Town.
• Photo of the day:

I wish someone would spray cold water on me...it's HOT out! AFD, Electropocalypse, 2008

So, for today’s Friday  musical interlude, let’s all hear a really good “Amy” song.  All the other ones suck.

And this commuting in the heat?  Screw it. I’m driving to work today.

I had to go diving into my bookshelf, to see if I still even have my diploma.  (I do.  In fact, I have two of them — one from the state, one from the town.)

I found a collection of hilarious stuff there.  Baccalaureate program!  Awards ceremony program!  (Who knew that RHCS even had a student council?  Not me.)  Graduation announcement!  In fact, I found some hilarious stuff from my other high school earlier in the week, as well, while I was cleaning out a closet.  So I guess I’ve been taking a sub-conscious trip down memory lane in anticipation of AKW’s big graduation day which is coming up next week.

What I want to say to her is, don’t listen to those people who always tell you, “these are the best years of your life,” because I really don’t want my sister to be one of those annoying people who act like seniors their whole lives.  Of course, she won’t.  Because she’s awesome!

But I will say this:  you’ll be amazed at the random crap you remember, and the random crap that you don’t.  For example, here’s a sample of what comes to mind whenever I think about high school:

• I remember, “I’m Gumby, dammit!”
• I remember TG dragging me all the way down the mountain.
• I remember the way M. “Irregular Verbs” D. could not stand pristine white Keds. Every single pair I wore ended up with at least a Dead Kennedys logo meticulously drawn in ballpoint.  If he ran out of space on my shoes, he would start in on my jeans.
• I remember KR’s checkered pants. I really loved those!  What can I say? It was the 80s.
• I remember that my French teacher really hated cats.
• I remember all of JEP’s cars…and how he was never allowed to drive mine!
• But I can’t remember where that balloon I had in all my grad photos actually came from.
• Or … well, obviously, I can’t remember.

So. Thanks for a laugh-filled Thursday morning, and congratulations, AKW!  You’ve made it.

• Lyric of the day: “is it so hard to be human after all?”
• Flashback of the day: Pop the clutch!
• What’s playing now? Live’s “White, Discussion,” off Throwing Copper.
• Photo of the day:
  

  Festa Italiana, 2009

But now, dear readers, I must beg your forbearance.  Because I, too, am on the Stras-wagon, and I was so excited that I forgot your tidbits.  There’s even — obviously — a theme at the ready.

(How you could manage to get through the day without them, is beyond me. )

• Lyric of the day: “Put me in, coach! I’m ready to play today”
• Flashback of the day: Kerry Wood Fever
• What’s playing now? John Fogerty’s “Centerfield,” off Centerfield.

Come on.  Obviously.

• Photo of the day:
  

  Not The Real Baseball Jesus

T-minus 68 minutes until it’s time to go home and switch on the MASN-2.  So excited!

The Real Baseball Jesus ascends to the Mound of Dirt tonight, from whence he will banish all unworthy Pirates.  And the disciple, Bryce Harper, will take his place as Paduan soon enough.

NatsTown has gotten more than a little excited about this.  But the best part?  That Nationals Park is sold out for tonight’s game…and it will be full of actual Nats fans!

Bonus sports goodness: I heard on NPR this morning that there are three local-ish folks on Team USA in the World Cup.  Exciting!  (The England match is on at 2:30 EDT Saturday, June 12.  Just sayin’.)  And it’s finally official: Ted Leonsis owns the Wheeeeeeee-zards.  Hooray!  I mean, I don’t really care about the Wheeeeeeeee-zards, or NBA basketball generally, but it can’t hurt them.  He now owns the Phone Booth and both of its professional residents.  That’s good news!