Friday, September 30, 2011

DC Metro? ...........God help you

Having been married to my husband for less than a month, I still have the inexplicable desire to make him happy. The job generally includes tasks such as packing his lunch, being on time, And decorating his bathroom with colors that would make Lisa Frank do a spit take.

But mostly showing up on time.

Last night, I told my husband I would be home by 11pm after an evening performance of Les Miserable. After a series of random misadventures, I finally maze it home around 12:30, and this why today I hate the metro system.

I'm still not sure how it happened (I've lived here for two years) but after all this time, I still can't find my way from the Kennedy center to Foggy Bottom. Now, anyone who knows DC will tell you that this is not a journey to undertake on less than a full night's sleep and a full belly. Last night, I had neither.

And I was in heels.

Nevertheless, I didn't feel like waiting the 12 hours required for a taxi after a sold out show, so I hoofed it.

After 45 minutes of wandering through GWU 's many picturesque statue gardens, I completed the normally 15 minute commute by collapsing on the nearest train bench and sobbing in relief.

Only to discover that I had jumped on the wrong line in the wrong direction and was halfway to Vienna before realizing the mistake.

So, like any normal human being, I pulled out the iPod and spent the next half hour stuck in the Court House stop, swing dancing with myself and anyone who happened to walk by. I admit, my attitude towards technology in general was not at it's peak, however, I still managed to squeeze in a decent lindy before hitching my way back to the original starting point.

Shortly after midnight, my saint of a husband picked me up two stops early and carted my weary feet to bed.

I may never leave my pillows alone again.

Wednesday, August 24, 2011

Working Towards a Wedding


So, I'm getting down to the last full week before my wedding and the nerves are finally starting to worm their way in. Up until now, I haven't felt the least bit nervous. Everything has gone pretty much according to plan and if it hasn't nobody cares. We got everything out of the way, so we could take a break during August and just enjoy each other. We've had a great few weeks of wedding showers, moving and talking about Morocco. I really can say it's been perfect.

The only hurdle that I can't seem to leap over today is my apartment. I have to move out in less than a week and haven't even started packing yet! My luggage arrived this morning and in a flurry of wedding and work related activity, I have yet to put anything in it. But, as Adam used to tell me, "It's all circumstantial."

None of the stuff I usually tend to freak over is worth the energy.  It's always something that works out in the end and never really needed my frazzled nerves to help anyway. The apartment will be packed and we will be out of there by this weekend. The kids will arrive on the airplane and someone will be there to pick them up. I will somehow manage to make it through the next four days of work without having a nervous breakdown.

It's amazing how God has really walked me through this. I had the most wonderful surprise at my bridal shower when my sister in law gave me a video of my husband to be answering questions she had asked about me! I got hear what Brian really thinks about my cooking, my quirky habits, and the way I look at people and God. It was really fascinating to see myself through his eyes and get a different angle.

It told me that despite my terrorized apartment, my ADD way of thinking, and my random moments of indecision, my husband loves me and will be there waiting at the end of the aisle next Saturday.





Thursday, August 4, 2011

Whoulda Thunk?

Veteran diplomat Ryan C. Crocker can handle Islamist insurgencies, hostile heads of state and management of some of the world’s largest embassies. But what’s he going to do about the cats?
The new leader of the U.S. Embassy in Kabul has probably already walked past (and possibly petted?) Gordo, Freckles, Dusty, Ferdinand and Maria Teresa or any of the other 25 to 30 felines that populate the downtown diplomatic campus. But in case he has not been briefed on the bizarre battle over their fate (kill them! save them! fly them to Berkeley!), here are the basics.


Somewhere in the murky past, at least one, if not two, embassy staffers were bitten and/or scratched by the somewhat-feral cats that wander the grounds. Security of all forms is sacred here, so red flags went up, warnings went out, rabies vaccines went in. “I’m not anti-cat,” one senior diplomat explained. “I’m pro-public health.”

The writing was on the wall. The cats’ days were numbered.  “That meant exterminate,” one staffer recalled.
Enter the cat committee, which perhaps unsurprisingly is made up of people who love cats. But that doesn’t fully explain them. Working in Kabul is not easy. Staffers endure endless hours and monotonous food, walled off from the city where they work and a world away from their loved ones. Plus there’s the nagging threat that people want to kill them. The embassy bar is called the Duck and Cover.

“We basically can’t go out at all. We can’t walk across the street; we have to take a tunnel. There are no kids, no families, and basically what we have is the cats,” said one member of the committee. “It’s as close as we come to normality.”

In April, one of the embassy’s top diplomats, James Keith, convened a town hall to discuss the extermination order. Cat lovers came out in force to vent, but Keith stood his ground. The proposal that emerged would allow diplomats 60 days to adopt and ship out the cats they wanted, and the rest would meet some unspecified, but presumably unfortunate, end.

This did not assuage all concerns. As per a May 26 e-mail from a USAID staffer (Importance: High), the anti-cat crowd’s solution would do nothing for public health. Many of the cats, domesticated and immunized, it read, are “fiercely territorial” and, therefore, keep out feral cats, as well as vermin, poisonous snakes, rats and mice, “which certainly are more of a health risk to the Embassy Community.”
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Sixty days passed. The debate went on. Amid the diplomatic politesse of meetings and draft proposals, some interesting guerrilla tactics emerged. Taking a page from the Taliban’s book, someone taped a night letter on the wall of the Duck and Cover. “Warning,” it read, above an image of two insurgent cats toting AK-47s, “we will break out our fellow comrades from your compound.”
Another flier that popped up in USAID offices pictured a cat in a Guevaraesque beret: “Viva la revolucion,” signed El Gato.
A more sensitive soul composed an ode under the nom de plume Bacon and the Katz. It began: “Why oh why must we die?”
“Most of you will return to the US where the living is easy and good / We apologize if our actions (purring and eating) have been misunderstood. / Please do not despise us nor wish for our demise / We cannot help it that we have cat’s eyes.”
The humane-removal advocates had a few tricks up their own oxford-cloth sleeves.
Until recently, embassy staffers who lived in a trailer (officially: containerized housing unit, or CHU) were allowed to keep a non-dog. “Small pets (mainly cats) are permitted in the CHUs” was the policy as outlined by the “welcome to post” cable given to arriving diplomats earlier this year. A more recent version, officials said, quietly omits the language permitting cats.

Witnesses have spotted fewer cats these days. Embassy officials insist no cats have been killed. Some remain safely housed in trailers and apartments. Staffers are putting together a name-and-picture-book cat census for those that stay. Evacuation plans have also begun. One committee member has found shelters in Berkeley, Calif., willing to take in what one person called “Afghan refugee cats.”

Who knows where this will lead. Surely a diplomat of Crocker’s caliber can find a solution. If not, the cat fight may very well continue.  

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