I'm a member of the DAR. My mother put me in it. She's one too. It's not like I asked for it or ever do anything with it; it's just sort of there, creeping me out. And it doesn't get me discount tickets to Constitution Hall. I've seen some good shows there--Laurie Anderson, Black Crowes, Mary J. Blige. But it still creeps me out.
Bundled up the baby girl and took her down to the Jefferson for the witches' broom dance and to hear Caroline Casey speak. Blew me away as usual; one quick riff was on how Dick Chaney is allergic to pomegranates and we should envision him surrounded by pomegranates. I can see/feel it, all the vivid red bursting seeds bubbling around him and him thrashing, his thin lips stretched and screaming in horror at being surrounded by all that life, all that juice, all that healthy sexy fruity goodness.
A long walk back to the Metro, but DD is a trouper. DIY vendors had set up shop on all corners, about 10 per jumbotron screen. The screens were broadcasting the Lincoln concert again. People were walk/dancing around the memorial throwing their hands up to "Shout." Black people were doing that, to Garth Brooks. My goodness. I got a t-shirt for Favorite Cousin, but even though I wanted an Obama family tote bag, I'm not buying anything for me this year. My friend BAker got me an Obama lighter Friday, so I'm a happy girl.
Everyone wants a piece of something from these days; so many people love this next president and his family and everything about him. People want to sing for him, work for him, paint pictures of him. It's such an astonishing energy to be surrounded with, after that eight-year case of food poisoning. It's as luxurious as swimming in pomegranate juice.