Monday, July 8, 2013

Bad Day 361--The storm is my friend

So twice in the last month I have gone to see the monuments during a storm warning and both times, it mostly passed us over. This evening, we went to see the WWII memorial, Lincoln, Vietnam, Korea, and I finally got to see MLK. I was a little scared that the MLK one would be awful because I had read all the reviews about it when it opened, but actually it was lovely and appropriate, although I thought he looks a little stern. It's in a beautiful location along the tidal pool among the cherry trees. We saw more than a few couples on dates having picnics and holding hands. It must be terribly romantic during cherry blossom time. Maybe this year since I'll have someone to hold hands with, I'll actually go see the cherry blossoms. This is the statue at the memorial for Dr. King.

But anyway, back to the storm--the wind blew and the clouds were black and boiling and all the tourists left, and nothing happened. Nothing. We got a few drops of rain, but it cooled off and the monuments were all relatively empty and it was so very nice compared to how hot and crowded it was on July 4th. So, I think I'll ignore storm warnings from now on. (No, Child 2. I won't actually ignore them.) But it was nice not to get drenched or struck by lightning and still have the place all to ourselves.

Husband still has more than a week left, so I think we might hit 370 days before he is home. Ugh. Stupid travel time. Also, I re-took that personality test and I am not Newt Gingrich, I am Captain America! Also Superman and The Flash. I feel much better now.

This sportscaster in England is having a worse day than me.  He made rude comments about the appearance of a French player implying that she worked harder because she wasn't a "looker." To my extreme delight, she won the entire tournament. Here she is looking pretty cute holding her trophy.

Then, my favorite part of the story is that during a press conference, some idiot asked her how she felt about that. (Seriously? Do reporters ever ask football players if they feel fat or baseball players if they are self conscious about their paunch?) And she replied that true, she wasn't a blonde, but that she had never dreamed of getting a modeling contract. She had, however, dreamed of winning Wimbledon. Mission accomplished, Ms. Bartoli! And to the idiot sportscaster, thank you for making me very grateful for role models like Marion Bartoli. I have always told my daughters that substance is more important than style. True, style is fun, but it won't win tennis tournaments. That is done with hard work, determination, and talent--qualities which real sports fans appreciate.

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