Trips
So I'm back.
DC was great, if unseasonably cold. It was very odd to be walking among snowflakes while surrounded by blooming trees and flowers. They've got tulips, cherry blossoms, hydrangeas, pansies. So when we got to our humble home I half expected the garden to look green and happy. It didn't. It looked brown and dead.
I did a virtual whirlwind of monuments while touring our nation's capital: I saw Jefferson, FDR, Lincoln and several war monuments: Korea, Vietnam, World War II (which Sara insisted we see because she thinks it aesthetically hideous). The Korean War memorial, of which I knew nothing, really surprised me. The silvery statues look as though they are stealthily creeping, their gear-laden backs hunched. It gave me a sense of men in battle, which is something few memorials do.
And of course I saw the panda. And of course he was adorable. He's a panda: it's in his DNA.
Now that I'm back and have done laundry and made enough banana bread to feed a small village it's time to get back to it: writing, that is. Stories, alas, do not write themselves. Not matter what they tell you.