58-59: face dance, "trixie, no!", peeing in your pants, escalator to heaven, the lime bait-and-switch, a ten-dollar shake, sculpture garden, scandalous george, pizza maker, robert and claire, second morning assault, the wrinkly man

June 9, 2025 to June 10, 2025

Alexandria and Washington D. C.

6/9/25

Because I slept ten hours the night before, I wasn't able to fall asleep until 01:00 last night.

This morning, my brain not entirely free from the fog of sleep, I heard the creaking of the stairs, followed by an urgent whisper, “Trixie! No!”

In my sleep-deprived state, I pulled the sheet over my head, figuring that would block out all noise and, more importantly, prevent contact with The Morning but, approximately 1.2 seconds later I felt a dog leap onto my face.

To be clear, I did say “my face,” not “my head.”

Again, “Trixie! No!”

Having had just over five hours of sleep I was determined to remain in a coma and pushed her away. However, my sloth-like morning movements were no match for a manic preteen puppy, and before I could react she was back on my face.

“Trixie! No!”

I moaned, gathered my wits, and rolled over onto my side as Scott walked her out the back door to urinate.

That’s when I heard the gunshot, or perhaps it was the back door slamming shut. I noticed yesterday, in the tranquil backyard as my hosts went in and out, how the screen door closes. It’s the pneumatic type which takes about thirty seconds to get eight inches from being closed, then slams shut with the force of a bank vault during a robbery. Like a person who lives near a train, I don’t think Scott hears it any longer, because five minutes later he returned (right about the time my heart rate dropped below 160 and I was starting to nod off), this time with Trixie on a leash, and it slammed again.

“Why,” I wondered, “couldn’t he have put that leash on at the top of the stairs?” What an asshole.

To be clear, the asshole is me, not them.

As a complete stranger, you invite yourself to someone’s house, relatives of a friend, and they feed you, give you a roof over your head, an extremely comfortable couch to sleep on, follow up with good conversation and kindness... and you write shit about them and their dog??? The dog who clearly loves you and wants nothing more than to have you scratch her tummy?

Wow… Grade. A. Asshole.

I feel compelled to add that it really was a nice place to stay in a nice community, that I enjoyed visiting with them, and that in spite of the 67 stitches I got on my face, Trixie is great. Maybe not as much at 6:30 in the morning but still, pretty awesome.

I wanted to do some sightseeing, but the timing didn’t work out so I wasn’t able to see as much as I’d hoped. I spent a couple of hours in a coffee shop working on the blog, then took the Metro across the river to DC.

As usual, I listened to the conversations of my fellow passengers on the bus taking me to the train. Today I was strategically situated to where I could hear two high school boys:

“I passed my Science exam!”
“Me too! What’d you get?”
Smiling proudly, “A 66.”
“Whoa, man! I got a 65!”

I shouldn't have been surprised when, about five minutes later, one of them made this fascinating observation:
“It feels weird to pee in your pants on purpose.”

One of the great things about Washington D. C. is that most of the museums are free. It's a wonderful place, and a gift from the government to all people. However, it's been a decade since I was last here, and when I went to the Smithsonian National Air and Space Museum I found that I needed to have signed up for a free ticket. At this point, the next available slot isn't until 4:00....so, on to the next item on my list.

Last year, we used Lime scooters to get around Frankfurt, Germany, and they were very helpful. Here they're about as beneficial as peeing in your pants on purpose on a first date, mainly because of the deceitful way they make you think you can go anywhere you want to go. Their bait-and-switch tactic is that you have to pay for a scooter before you can see any of the Prohibited Zones, and here in D.C. there are huge swaths of them. Those same areas happened to cover the very places I wanted to see. That meant a slow walk on a hot, humid day.... resulting in me getting to disappointingly few places.

Today was hot and humid, diminishing my desire to go exploring and sapping my will to live, or even find a restroom. Peeing in my pants suddenly sounded more appealing. I was able to make my way to one of the 10,000 food trucks to get some ice cream, leaving a slow, slimy trail of sweat behind me like a snail across concrete as I made my way.

This is what ten dollars will get you. Sunglasses not included.

From there, I made my way to the National Gallery of Art Sculpture Garden. Here are a few pictures of the ones I found interesting.

I can't say I like this one, but did find it interesting, if creepy.

I was determined to make it to at least one of the Points of Interest on my list so I rented a Lime scooter, which took me about a hundred yards before it started making a weird, bird-like sound, then died, indicating I was in a Prohibited Zone.

Abandoning it, I strode purposefully, steely-eyed and unyielding in my determination to make it to my destination. As I made my way to the GPS coordinates I had culled from my research, I ignored all obstacles, breezed past people handing me bracelets for a "donation," bound around hordes of obese tourists, and longingly but singlemindedly passed ice cream vendors, all the while accruing a thick layer of sweat which glued my clothing to my skin which would later require surgical dissection to remove.

Up stairs, down stairs, around corner after corner until I finally arrived at the location, a statue of George Washington, shirtless and buff. Yes, you read that right: Our first president shirtless and buff.

In 1832, on the centennial of Washington’s birthday, Congress decided to honor our first president with a sculpture and selected 27-year-old Horatio Greenough to make it. He sailed to Italy and after selecting the marble spent the next eight years working on it. Once completed, it took twenty two oxen to drag the twelve-ton sculpture to a port in Genoa, and once there the U.S. Navy ship appointed to pick it up was too small for such a heavy lift so they enlisted a specially modified commercial vessel. This, at great cost to the U.S government.

Upon arriving in the Capitol city in 1840, Greenough’s sculpture was met with shock. Washington’s chiseled muscles and robes seemed to mock the buttoned-up statesman, and Greenough's counterargument that 1790s clothing already looked ridiculously out of fashion was ignored. When it was placed in the Rotunda, engineers were concerned that because of its massive weight the floor would collapse, bringing part of the Capitol down with it. Even after a large pedestal was brought in to distribute the weight there was concern about a collapse, so George was evicted and taken to the East Plaza.

The new location scandalized onlookers, and people believed the bare chested president looked ridiculous with pigeons perched on his bare arms, which accumulated snow in the winter months. Even so, he remained there for twenty years until a crack was discovered on his back, after which a temporary shed was erected during winter. He was moved once again, to the Smithsonian’s National Museum of American History and placed here for you to see:

Except that, after all of my hiking through the heat, and the painfully long exposition, neither one of get to see him.... he isn't there.

this picture was stolen from the internet

There will be one particularly nice highlight of the day: I'm meeting a friend that I haven't seen in 10-12 years, Robert. He and his friend Claire are meeting me for dinner, so I made my way to the restaurant.

On the way to the restaurant I saw a sculpture which, I believe, is a pizza maker adding a little parmesan to his pie.

I just can't get enough seafood on this trip, and this was surprisingly inexpensive for the volume.

<><><><><><><><><><><>

6/10/25

On the second morning with my hosts, I once again heard the creaking of the stairs, then:

“Trixie! No!”

Unlike yesterday, I roused slightly and, remembering what followed after I’d heard those words yesterday, strategically placed a pillow over my head in an attempt to ward off a dog doing a happy dance on my face. It worked, but unfortunately, that left my groin open, a strategic opportunity immediately pounced upon by Trixie.

“Trixie! No!”

There was no going back to sleep after that.

I spent the day in a bakery working on the blog, then Kathy and I went out to dinner.

She does NOT look 87 years old. I have more wrinkle than she does.

I promised fewer food pictures, but didn't say none.

After all the energy I expended sitting in that bakery today I figured I deserved dessert.

Should I be concerned about mud on the C&O trail?

Rate this entry's writing	Heart	10
Comment on this entry	Comment	2

Larry FrahmI agree with your self descripsion, maybe even Grade AA.
Reply to this comment
1 week ago

Mark BinghamTo Larry FrahmI can’t disagree with you, but consider that A batteries are larger than AA batteries, and AA batteries are larger than AAA, so there’s that.
Reply to this comment
1 week ago