The Pressure of a Balmy Winter Weekend

 In the sixties!  In the northeast!  In January!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!  Whatever will we do?

First, we must be grateful.  Very grateful.  Because it won't last and the wrath of winter will come back and bite us in the ass and knock out our electricity and force us to be stuck in traffic on the GW Parkway for 12+ hours.  (And no, that didn't happen to me.  But I have PTSD just thinking about it).  Make no mistake - trees will fall once again.

Second, and most importantly, we must make the most of this precious gift.  It musn't be wasted! We must go outside and dance and sing and skip in the 60 degree air!  And then on Monday, we must discuss our chosen outdoor activity with friends, family, co-workers, and Starbucks employees.  And we better have something good.  It can't simply be taking the dog for a walk.  No.  It must be impressive.  Unique.  Something that shows that we had a true appreciation for the weather blessing that was bestowed upon us.

On Saturday morning, my husband and I faced this challenge.  What to do?  A simple park seemed insufficient.  The National Zoo was out of the question (worst. zoo. ever.).  The Smithsonian is overrated (National History Museum = Stuffed Zoo).  Sipping on Bloody Mary's at a sidewalk cafe, though enticing, felt inappropriate.


So we decided on the airport.  After all, what's better than the smell of burning jet fuel on an overcast day?

Braden loved it.  Casey hated it.  I was just grateful I was watching the planes, and not flying in them. 

Not bad though.  Not bad at all.  This should cause some jealousy at the water cooler this morning for sure.  (The fact that I will not be talking with anyone at a water cooler is irrelevant).

For January, I'll take it.