sunday driving with ADD

As you may see from the date here, it's been a busy couple of weeks, and no time to sort it all out and post the sordid details of my life. Not that there is anything sordid, which explains the small size of my readership. I am sure if I put more in about my secret life as an ass-kicking extra-terrestrial hunter, I would get more people hooked. Whoops.

On to a few thoughts I have ruminated on recently. I am re-reading Pride and Prejudice, after certain events in my family encouraged me to seek out another family to surpass my own in drama and silliness. I wonder if every woman with sisters reads books like P and P, and imagines herself only as Elizabeth--the sensible one with a keen wit. One could hardly be a reader and relate to Mary or Lydia in the book. Maybe someone could relate to Jane, but I am certainly not that person. She's far too forgiving and optimistic. Other books like Little Women come to mind, where I of course relate to Jo (wanting a strong, manly-type profession--whoops again--and not caring so much about domestic bliss until the end) and the other sisters remind me of my sisters in some ways. I guess that's why they are so popular, besides the obvious fact that they are excellent books. One character in literature I could not relate to, but envied terribly, was Nancy Drew. She was so independent, skilled at everything she tried, and cool under pressure.

A thought struck me just now: all of my favorite female characters in literature did not want to be girly, or do normal-girl things like get married off to a rich man, be content with embroidering by the fire, gossiping, and popping out scores of children. Eowyn, my favorite of all from Lord of the Rings, wanted to die in battle rather than sit with the other women and wait for news. Well it explains a whole lot. You shrinks out there, have a blast with my identity crisis.

I am no Nancy Drew when it comes to high-pressure situations, borne out by certain events today. We had a lovely day, visiting our former church home, Truro Episcopal, in Fairfax. More specifically, we came to see our dear friend Ed Knippers, whose website I have finally put up and am not ashamed of. There is still much work to be done, but I can't believe I got the software to cooperate. Anyway, we went to see him and participate in the Lessons and Carols service, which was great. I love the old hymns, liturgy, and having Communion every Sunday. If I didn't love the people in my own church so much, I would feel quite at home in the very English Episcopal setting (one that believes in the Bible's authority, I might qualify here. It's no good having liturgy if you don't believe what the liturgy's about).

Will I finish my story or not? I am queen of digression and editorializing. sheesh. (oh--check here for a real editorializing treat by yours truly! but be warned, it's bitter.)

We had a great time, ate lunch, visited Ed's studio and saw some tremendous stuff, and I was driving us home on the D.C. beltway, listening to the British version of Harry Potter book 2 on the speakers. I don't recall seeing the signs for 95 north, and before I knew it, we were nearing the Wilson Bridge in crawling traffic. For those of you who are unfamiliar with it, let's just say I had no business being on the Wilson Friggin Bridge if I wanted to go to Baltimore. Idiot!!

I yelled at D for playing his Nintendo, yelled at A for asking for his Batman for the 40th time, yelled at myself in several languages, and yelled at the traffic. D had youth group tonight and left his cell phone at home with every important number on it (I have bare bones numbers on mine). We were out of diapers in the diaper bag because, I mean really, isn't three more than enough? No. Of course, today was a super-pee day for A, where every change is just in the nick of time before the diaper disintegrates into a pool of gelatinous cotton-goo.

Things were tense. The upshot was we got to eat at La Madeleine's in Alexandria, whose tomato-basil soup we have nicknamed "crack soup," it's so addictively yummy. A was charming with the wait staff, ate about 10 huge strawberries, and danced around the floor while D went to buy some diapers down the street. We met a family with a daughter the same age as A, whose name would have been his if she'd been a he. Spooky.

We are safely home, obviously, and A was a real trooper through the whole ride. "Lots taffic, mommy?" he asked over and over. Mommy mad at shelf, that's for sure.