D.C. Unforgettable

I’m in Washington D.C. at my sister’s house. Part of our “pre-trip” preparation was to plan to visit some of our tax-paying dollars in the form of one of the many federal museums. I, being a history buff, (and by “history buff” I mean “someone who likes to see interesting and possibly inspiring artifacts like George Washington’s wooden dentures and Mr. Rogers’ red cardigan sweater”) suggested such classic historic warehouses like the Smithsonian, the National Gallery of Art, and Madame Tussauds Wax Museum.

So it was when someone suggested we visit a stressful and serious depository of historical artifacts like the Holocaust Museum I nearly shot Diet Coke ™ out of my nose with laughter. “How funny!” I told Meghan later. “Ha, ha, ha! They think we’d want to go there.” “But, Mom,” was her response, I do want to go; I think it’ll help us work on ‘Underground.’”

Great. All these years living of with me and my daughter still somehow managed to develop depth and a social conscience. Where did I go wrong? “Um, yeah. We’ll see,” was what I croaked. “There’s not enough Diet Coke ™,” is what I thought.

Well, obviously, there IS enough Diet Coke. On Thursday, Kev, Megh, and I ventured through East Coast traffic and the maze that is D.C. to Raoul Wallenberg Drive where we found…the museum and not a parking place for 12 city blocks. Kevin, the undaunted male-type hunter that he is, circled the area like a hungry barracuda prowling, waiting, and mentally willing a vehicle to leave and make way for him to park near the building. (It should be noted that even a human bladder has limits when it comes to prowling, waiting, and willing metal-based inanimate objects to make way for my own personal inanimate object…) Fortunately, Kev’s mental mojo worked and we parked without incident or accident.

Distressingly, the entrance to the Holocaust museum was blocked by a line of strangers. At first I was hopeful that Kev would get discouraged and offer to buy me a Starbucks instead…but no, it was just the metal detector line; and 7 minutes 45 seconds later I found myself in the middle of a place I swore I’d never go. I’d like it to be known that the reason I didn’t want to go to this particular place was not because I have something against this museum…(I think everyone should witness the historic horror so they don’t)…I traditionally avoided the place because I’m a coward and feared I’d end up carried out on a stretcher curled up in a fetal position, howling and sobbing.

But I walked, on my own power, through all three floors which even included a brief ride in a packed elevator. I watched almost all the media and read most of the signage.

Impressions:

1)The information on Hitler’s rise to power and his philosophy was impressive including the video on anti-Semitism which had a lengthy discussion of Jesus Christ.

2)The tact with which they showed the atrocities was commendable; they offered the most disturbing media positioned so that small children and those who would rather not observe the images safe and sound (I watched all of them, I want you to know).

3)The desire for people to not lose sight that the millions of people who suffered under this atrocity was made up of individuals was remarkable and admirable.
I made it through and avoided very little. To me, it is a sign of my further healing.

We drove home in late afternoon traffic, mostly in the heart heavy silence that accompanies such knowledge and grief. Well, Megh and I were quiet. Kev was irritated by the “too many” others sharing his road and the GPS who didn’t direct him to the empty HOV lane. We must never forget.

And now, I’m watching football and having a glass of wine while Denver is getting trounced. Meghan and Kevin are playing video games. Life is back to normal.

And then I read this: "Dictator Stalin voted third most popular Russian in Recent Poll." See for your yourself.

We MUST. Never. Forget.

(Mostly) Speechless at: marcyjoybryan@gmail.com

Holiday Cheer? I THINK NOT!

I am stressed. It's as a direct result of a To Do List. It is a large list. One might consider it massive. I tried to guiltify my mom and sister into helping me work on said list, however, my mother...a wise woman but unaware of her duty to her grown children...refused saying (and I quote), "It won't matter, you'll add more to it faster than we can accomplish." I ask you, dear reader, what good is a mother if she won't help you maintain your co-dependent ways?

Frankly I would be a lot better off if I lacked the needus-to-accomplish gene that produces this incessant need to make lists of all the things one thinks of that needs doing in one's life and the lives of those around one.

My husband, Kevin, before he was my husband, almost didn't reach husband status because he made fun of my list-making. "Made fun" here means to post ridiculous things like "go to the bathroom" and "breathe" on my "Things To Do To Graduate" List back in the '80s.

OK…I know…so my list is long and isn’t getting any shorter during this whinefest. So what am I going to do about it?

I think I shall do three things:

1) I shall check my email.
2) I shall compose it on a scrap of paper and shove it into my cavernous purse.
3) I shall offer you an interesting video that I just found while pretending to work on the aforementioned list.

Sigh ...It’s a list about a list concerning lists. I might be hopeless…
Here’s the video I promised.

Christmas Ar-teest? Or Alien Invader?

As another example that my daughter, Meghan, might possibly be an alien life form or an upgraded android is her approach to cookie making.

Last week we were making our typical Gingerbread Cookies. And equally typically, I rolled out the dough and Megh was to cut the cookies out.

I dutifully rolled the dough out and then ran off to accomplish another holiday task. When I got back about a half hour later, I found my non-task oriented daughter painstakingly carving tiny details into a cookie model of our house.

Please let me emphasize that she cut out ONE cookie in the time it takes a typical holiday special to play its opening theme song, have and a solve its crisis AND pimp itself and 6 other products. In the same amount of time I can roll, cut, and bake nearly 50 hearts, stars, and angels.

To illustrate...

If this is my gingerbread house:



Then this would be Meghan's:



She's an artist living in a "get 'er done" world.

You might want to pray for her at: marcyjoybryan@gmail.com

I'm Full Of Cheer

Can't you tell? (Click on image to get full globulescence.)

I will never look at purple, slimy, fecal-shaped things the same again at: marcyjoybryan@google.com

Worked All Week to Publish the Cookbook

And I feel great! (Click Picture for Full Effect Close Up.)

These claws are the fastest in the ocean. And yes, my eyes are crossed, why do you and your identical twin ask?

I Dare You To Be My Friend at: marcyjoybryan@gmail.com