1,001 Words

Sunday, February 25 - 11:40am - Arlington, Virginia

I heart snow.  I mean, I freaking heart snow like no one’s business.  Snow is awesome.  It can take an otherwise crappy, cold, gray winter’s day and make it magical.  Little flakes add up to make a dusting, and then they make a covering, and they make a beautiful mess.  Everyone should get snow days.  Everyone should be told, when it snows, stop whatever responsibilities you have and just go outside.  Enjoy it.  It’s nature at it’s finest.  Of course, here in Washington, we mess it up simply by being scared of it.  Schools are already canceling, I’m sure.  But it’s freaking gorgeous outside.

I woke up this morning to the sound of sleet pounding on my window.  It’s like the sound of rain, just not pleasant in the least.  Sleet is nature’s big winter middle finger.  There’s nothing good about sleet.  It’s not rain, it’s not snow.  It just bites.  I went off to the grocery store after brushing my car of the 1/2 inch of sleet and getting soaked in the process.  The drive was fine, and the mayhem was subdued at the Cherrywood Safeway.  I suppose all the "Bread! Milk! Toilet Paper!" people had already raided the store.  The beer aisle was fine.  Twenty minutes later, I’m leaving the store and it’s a winter wonderland.  There are humongous flakes falling, everything is now coated in snow instead of sleet, and it’s just gorgeous.  I drove home, doing a little skidding along North Quincy (no one was around, so it was kind of fun - remember kids: steer into the skid while letting up on the gas!).  I threw the groceries in the house, and went for a walk.  It was like something compelled me to go outside.  I needed to be outside.  I had to take a look at the snow.  We haven’t really had much snow in the DC area this winter, and our big storm left three inches of ice and sleet compacted.  You couldn’t shovel it, you couldn’t get around it, it was in the 20s for a week, and it just sucked.  So I had to get out and see the beauty.  I walked around Quincy Park, taking random pictures of things which struck my fancy.  I love snow because it makes every sound muted.  The world is quiet.  It’s white.  It looks reborn.  I know tomorrow, everything will be gray and slushy and annoying.  But right now, the world looks awesome.

Below are three attemps at being artsy.  I tried to take a shot of my footsteps in the snow.  I suppose I should have dug in a little deeper, so as to show the grass.  Oh well.  The second picture is of the W-L baseball field dugout.  I thought it looked neat in the snow.  Baseball, a sign of spring, against the backdrop of winter.  Saturday afternoon, I saw some high schoolers starting practice for the upcoming baseball season. I thought, "What a great sign of spring."  The snow has put that idea on the back burner, at least for a few days.  The last picture is yet another quasi self shot, a portrait of the photographer as a cold man.

Title is a line from the song "Amid the Falling Snow" by Enya.  Yes, I know that’s a lame choice.  I liked the lyric.  Do you know how hard it is to find a non-Christmas related snow song?  That new one by the Chili Peppers isn’t all that good, so don’t give me any of that crap.

Saturday, February 3, 2007 - 5:20pm - Middletown, Virginia

The picture hanging out over there is from Northbound Interstate 81, just before it’s junction with Interstate 66.  Saturday afternoon, I hopped in the car for a random drive.  I live along I-66 in Arlington County, just a few miles of its eastern end in the District of Columbia.  I see this end all the time on my way home from work (when I’m in a semi-scenic route mood), so Saturday I decided to check out the western side.

Where I live, I-66 is a modern urban interstate.  It’s two lanes in each direction, buried between sound walls, Metro’s Orange Line running along the middle, and surrounded by houses and office parks and the like.  Once you get about 30 miles west of where I live, past the last junction with US 29 near Nissan Pavilion, the road changes quickly.  It suddenly becomes a bit more rural.  The exits get a little more spread out.  You can start seeing the piedmont of the Blue Ridge Mountains, signs for Luray Caverns and Skyline Drive, and some random towns you only hear about every now and then in DC, and they may as well be on the other side of the world.  It amazes me that people will commute from this far, solely so they can get a big yard and what they deem decent schools and out of the lights and buzz of a city.  It also amazes me that 30 miles to the west, and you’re in a different world.  You’ve left behind the outer DC suburbs, and you’ve entered the transition area to Appalachia.  There’s still a rustic feel, there are still farms, you can see plenty of trees (even with the lackluster scenery on a cold February day).  It also amazes me that when I lived in St. Louis, this kind of out-of-the-city scenery could be had in just 10 miles or 15 miles.  In Boston, it seemed like it never happened, even if you traveled into New Hampshire.  And, when I was growing up, you didn’t have to go 30 miles - just about 5 or 10.  Ah, such is life in the sprawling world of our nation’s capital.

I brought some CDs with me for the drive, and "Fast Car" was on one of them.  Not Tracy Chapman’s version, but one by Canadian singer David Usher.  It’s not a bad cover.  And the subject line comes from the song.  Ever since I got a license, I would always go out for random drives.  I know, I’m helping global warming and aiding terrorism by buying extra gas and running my car further into the ground and all that.  But it was always a place and way to clear my head, be it from serious things to the usual high school/college/young adult life bullshit.  Even if I couldn’t clear my head, I could organize my thoughts so at least whatever issues the day brought were a little neater inside my brain.  Sometimes, those issues could be sorted out in a 45 minute drive around Montgomery County.  Sometimes, I would want to circle the entire Beltway to get things going.  One time, I drove all the way to Norfolk.  The drive back was a long one.

Sometimes, it would seem like a drive was a way of escaping.  My first few months in St. Louis, when I hated everything, I would often drive west along Interstate 70, in what I guess was a hidden agenda of escaping St. Louis.  At a certain point, I would have to turn back around.  The drive back could be rough, because I was just heading back to whatever I was trying to avoid.  As the distance signs kept counting down back to St. Louis, I could feel whatever issue was bothering me with my new Midwestern life was coming back.  After a while, I learned to like St. Louis and these drives weren’t about avoiding things. 

Saturday’s drive was all about that.  There are some issues going on, and I’m not going to get into them all because they’re not my issues, per se, and I’m not all about spewing my personal life here.  Chances are, if you read this, you know what’s going on.  Saturday, I just wanted to drive in a direction which was away from issues.  After 70 miles, counting down the mile markers on I-66 until we hit zero (on the on-ramp from westbound 66 to southbound 81), and I don’t think the issues really went away.  I just decided I really didn’t want to drive to Roanoke.  I took the scenic way back, coming along US 50 to Middleburg, then north on US 15 to the Dulles Greenway.  The issues are still all around.  But I feel like I got a little bit of reorganizing done in my head, and I might be better able to tackle the issues.  It doesn’t matter if I’m ready or not, because the issues will come to a head when they do.  I just know I need to be in the right place when other people come to need me - similar to an athlete preparing for the big game.  I might need another drive from time to time, but I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.

This week, keep your mom in your mind.  She’s an important lady, whether you live down the street from her, or a cross-country flight away, or if she’s no longer with us.  It’s a tough week for moms.  My mom is having back surgery Wednesday, and she’s barely in the Top 3 on the Mom-Related-Issue list out there.  So keep your mom in mind, and maybe keep someone else’s too.  She might need your help.

For further reading on the interstate highway system, I highly recommend Divided Highways by Tom Lewis.  It is probably the best book about the history, positives, and negatives behind this modern marvel.  For inspiration on tackling issues, I would recommend "Bring On the Rain" by Jo Dee Messina.  For a random picture of late-January’s snow/ice mess in DC, look to the right.  That was January 21, along North Quincy Street in Arlington, Virginia.

Title is a line from the song "Fast Car" by Tracy Chapman.  David Usher’s version isn’t too shabby either.