Things I am Thankful For

•  Jesus Christ and the fact that I understand what He means.
•  My dad’s friendship and loyalty and my mom’s liveliness and steadfastness.
•  My brother’s knowledge of Saved by the Bell trivia and reminder to take second chances and run with them.
•   My health and the health of my family; our ability to walk and talk and move and laugh.
• My friends: the longevity of love with people who have known me through all kinds of weather, their willingness to lend a hand even when what they are reaching out to is a huge mess, their senses of adventure to walk across a country, race around a city solving clues, or dress up as Native Americans for Thanksgiving.
• My church: the instruction and wisdom and consistency it unselfishly gives to me each day.
•  America: freedom and the chance to pursue happiness, the ability to redress grievances, and the availability of Starbucks coffee on every street corner.
• Our Armed Forces: the sacrifices made daily for the freedom of our citizens and the protection of those they’ve never met. 
• The opportunity to live. 

“May you live all the days of your life.”  Thomas Swift

Happy Thanksgiving, and God Bless!

LP

The Year of Living Biblically

I often spend my lunch hour perusing the shelves of Barnes and Noble.  It is a dangerous thing; a siren calling my name amidst the marble buildings and souvenir stands of Washington DC.  If I kept a Financial Excel spreadsheet, I would probably need to devote a column to Barnes and Noble.  Sharing a building with ESPN Zone and kitty-corner to the Harrington (Washington DC’s “Tourist Hotel”), the Barnes and Noble on the corner of 13th and E is my haven within the madness. 

Pulling open the heavy glass doors, I greet the guard, who knows my face but not my name.  I feel immediately at home, experiencing the perfect balance between companionship and solitude: there are plenty of fellow lunch-breakers and enough background noise as to not be eerily silent, but like me, these patrons have come to seek companionship in a book.  The act of reading and perusing allows one to be entirely selfish… but not really.  You can go into Barnes and Noble and read what you want, when you want, wherever you want… but you can then take what you’ve read and share it with other people if you so choose.

Then, I wander upstairs, exchanging relaxed smiles with a businessman who has loosened his tie for the hour.  It is at this point that I roam around and find something I want to read and then fight a battle inside my head over whether or not I should spend the money.  The answer is most always “not” but the action is most always “yes.”  Hey, there are worse things to spend money on, right?

A couple of weeks ago, I saw this book that I subsequently yo-yoed back to a few times.  I know you aren’t supposed to judge a book by its cover, but this one had a picture of a guy with white robes and an unkempt beard, the Stone Tablets in one hand and a Starbucks coffee in the other, and the Manhattan skyline in the background.  The cover art served as a delicious chunk of bait, but the first couple of pages were the hook through my cheek. 

The book?  The Year of Living Biblically, by A.J. Jacobs.  I am only about halfway through so far, but he’s several times mentioned his affinity for googling himself so if you see this A.J., I like your book!

The book is just like it sounds; this guy is going to live the Bible as literally as possible for an entire year.  My first reaction was that he was going to be a smart ass about it as many who aren’t (and some who are)  ”religious” might be tempted to do.  Now, this wasn’t a deterrent for me wanting to read the book.  I know myself, my affinity for sarcastic humor and my appreciation for a good story. 

But, to my refreshed surprise, that is not the approach that he takes.  He approaches his assignment seriously, reading the Bible for four weeks at five hours a day, consulting numerous versions, and seeking the counsel of rabbis, priests, and religious leaders.  One of his reasons for this project is his son, Jasper.  He said, “If my lack of religion is a flaw, I don’t want to pass it along to my son.”  I respect that.

It is also noteworthy that Jacobs is Jewish.  However, he relates his “Jewishness” to the Olive Garden’s being an Italian restaurant: not very.  He is agnostic, but from what I can tell, open to finding answers.

Due to his Jewish roots and length proportion of the Old Testament to the New, he decides he’ll spend 8 months in the former and 4 in the latter.  Makes logical sense.  Immediately, Jacobs stops shaving his beard, hires charmingly devout Mr. Berkowitz to assess his clothing for mixed fibers, and carries around his own chair to save himself from the risk of becoming unclean.  He visits the Creation Museum, stays a weekend with the Amish, and journeys to Israel in search of spiritual enlightenment and his ex-uncle turned ultra-devout religious guru. 

I have yet to learn of Jacobs’ final reactions, but one thing I am constantly thinking of while I read this book is this: there are a LOT of laws in the Old Testament or Torah.  Thought to ponder: was part of the the point of all these laws to realize that we as humans are incapable of keeping all of them and need another solution?

I recommend Jacobs’ earnest attempt to seek what captivates so many lives in what turns out to be both a funny and enlightening read.

Excitable Stray Coins and the Library of Congress

Someone recently told me that I am “easily excitable.”  As I ponder this term, I am reminded of a story that draws the worst connection possible with the main topic of this entry but made me chuckle today nonetheless.   This is because it is about Publix, my place of employment during my underclassman years of high school.  I must admit that I rather enjoyed this job.  Perhaps it was because half of Nease High School earned their car payments and mad money there, or because the Granny Smith apple-colored polyester vest I wore was so snazzy.  Perhaps it was because we found it fun to race each other to see who could be the fastest cashier or because I found entertainment in bagging groceries according to color (I thought about stopping when I realized that dishwasher detergent and green peppers don’t necessarily belong in the same bag), but whatever the reason it was a pretty great job for a high school sophomore.

I don’t remember anything special about the day in question, however, except this one particular instance of easy excitability.  I worked with this red-headed boy named Joel.  (Funny enough, if he logs into facebook at the right time and sees the live feed for this link, he could very well read this even though I haven’t spoken to him in a number of years.)  Even at the risk of him reading this I will say that Joel was a pest.  (Come on, Joel, you were.)  Joel caused you to check your six every so often to see if he was there, ready to scare you.  On this particular day, I had just finished my shift and was carrying my till, full of coins, to the back office to count my money.  Joel, in his finest form,  stealthily approached and jabbed either side of my back.  I proceeded to jump in the air and dramatically throw the till from my hands, catapulting and flailing a myriad of quarters, dimes, nickles, and pennies in every which way.   I think my drawer was off by at least 8 cents.  OK, I made that up, I really don’t remember, but I wouldn’t be surprised if some coins from my till are wedged into the netherworld that exists under the cash register.

Now you’ll see what I really meant to talk about and agree that it was a terrible lead-in.

My point is that I just get excited about things.  I like to yell at the television during a Florida Gator football game like Urban Meyer and Tim Tebow can hear me.  I think it’s so cool that I got to harvest grapes at my roommate’s family’s vineyard last weekend.  And I absolutely love the fact that I drive past the U.S. Capitol to go to the gym.

This morning’s sentiment was no different.  Here I am, two and a half years into living in DC, and some things have become normal, providing for an odd mixture of normalcy and excitement.  For instance, the Capitol is just there.  There are just going to be police officers on every corner.  You are just going to be late sometimes because the roads are blocked off for a Presidential motorcade or a gay pride march or a book festival.  These are things that inspire both gawking and a nonchalant shrug of the shoulders.

This morning, I walked from my house to the Library of Congress for a work assignment, chatting with my mother along the way.  Sidenote: I called to thank her for the new set of towels she sent to me after visiting and deciding mine weren’t adequate.  In true Diane fashion, I also received a note containing three steps for maintaining good skin throughout your life, if anyone’s interested.  Here’s a teaser: Step 1: Cover your face in the sun after you are 25. She said, “Aren’t you supposed to be at work already?”  And I go, “Nah, I’m going to the Library of Congress today.”

Just like that I’ve uttered a sentence that, while normal to me, is certainly not normal to her.

After we hang up, I go through security which is  something I am entirely used to by this point.  I take the familiar path through the twisty corridors toward the main reading room, whip out my Researcher’s Card, turn over my purse and my packed lunch at the coat check, and head into one of the most beautiful rooms to grace our city.  The Main Reading Room inspires me to become an academic.  When I walk in, I want to go get a PhD in art or philosophy or history, just so I can use this room.  Now, in actuality, I am using this room already and without any of those credentials, but that seems to be besides the point.

I mentally make the switch to my “Indoor Voice”, should I need to talk to anyone.  I gaze up to the domed ceiling and statues of great thinkers and contributors to academics, knowledge, and learning.  I walk into Alcove Number 7, home to the Congressional Record.  The books in this room contain the official record of Congressional business since 1873.  1873!  It is something that I took for granted and tossed into the recycling bin upon delivering while working on the Hill, due to its availability online, but today this is chilling and sobering (and exciting).

I search for March 1973.  Pulling the dusty volume from it’s shelf of brothers, I flip open the pages and locate what I’ve come to find: the passage of the Church Amendment.  The Church Amendment immediately followed Roe v. Wade and served to ensure that private hospitals receiving federal funding would not be required to provide abortion services when they objected based upon religious or moral belief.

As I thumb through the pages, I think about the other monumental decisions that are recorded in the volumes of these records.  And I get excited.  Excited for history!  “Wahoo!” I proclaim!  (In my indoor voice, of course).

I love the excitability that this city inspires in many.  If you’ve been here awhile, have some visitors up to help you get a new frame of reference.  And then take them on a segway tour and take me with you, because that has got to be pretty exciting.

Hey Spin Doctors, tell us the truth

Representative Joe Wilson (R-SC) has been in the spotlight over the past couple of days after his controversial “You lie!” remark at Wednesday night’s Joint Session of Congress.  The latest article that I read logged his opponent in next year’s election to have raised nearly $90,000 in response to this outburst.  Rep. Wilson’s House website has been down for maintenance since the incident.  He apologized to President Obama, who claimed that “we all make mistakes.”

While Rep. Wilson’s verbal display of opposition was perhaps inappropriate given the setting, it doesn’t change the fact that he spoke the truth.  Whether he yelled during a national address or called the White House for a one-on-one conversation, the fact of the matter remains that our President is using political spin to achieve his agenda for the health care plan.

First, what was the point of calling a Joint Session of Congress?  This is not a commonly used tactic; it was only used once each by Presidents Clinton and George W. Bush.  So, while it is certainly an option, it’s kind of a big deal… which is exactly what Obama wanted it to be.  Gathering 435 representatives and 100 senators who interact with each other on a daily basis in a room together is not going to change how any of them feel about the current health care legislation.  These men and women are perfectly capable of calling each other’s offices, arranging meetings, conversing in the hallway, etc.  They don’t need the dramatics of gathering together in the Chamber to communicate.  So what was the point?  The point was to create a national display of urgency.  The Administration and supporting Democrats are not as happy with the progress of this bill as they would like to be, and Obama’s stepping it up.  He’s said so; this isn’t new news.  He wanted the American people to tune in to hear him reassure everyone that this bill is sound, that it won’t offer coverage to illegal immigrants, that it won’t use government funding for abortions, and that it’s opponents need to quit holding up health care reform.

This is all fine.  This is how the game of politics works.  I can respect that.  My problem arises when the wrong information is communicated.  Let’s take the abortion factor.

President Obama claims that no taxpayer funding will be used to provide abortions.  Supporters claim that the Hyde Amendment protects this statement.  Sheesh, this has been law since 1976!  But what they fail to tell everyone is that this health care bill is an entirely separate entity from the Health and Human Services appropriations bill, the only place where the Hyde Amendment is applicable.  This health care bill, as currently written, won’t be involved in annual appropriations.  This coverage is moot.

Additionally, funds under this health care bill can be used to purchase private plans that could then be turned around to fund abortions.  All someone would have to do would be go and get an abortion, and then the clinic could submit the bill to the Department of Health and Human Services, Kathleen Sebelius would write them a reimbursement check, and they’d be on their merry way with their government funding.

Check out why the Hyde Amendment won’t apply and these talking points for further information.  Additionally, the Congressional Research Service, a non-partisan research institute for Congress, has provided an answer to the question of availability of funds for abortion within this health care bill here.

Now, I am not trying to keep it a secret that I don’t particularly love President Obama or that I think this health care bill is full of terrible provisions or that I don’t want my government to pay for abortions with their funds that I pay into with my taxes.  I respect the office of the presidency and sincerely wish for our nation’s representatives to get it together and come up with something legitimate.  Nor am I trying to sell you on not loving Obama or change your mind on funding abortions.

I am just saying that we deserve to know the truth.  If America decides that our government will fund abortion, so be it.  Opponents will fight tooth and nail to stop that from happening, but that is the beauty of our democracy.  But, Americans should know what we are getting and what our tax dollars are going toward upfront and not down the road, after the bill has been signed into law and it is much harder to get things back the way they were or go in another direction.

Politicians are professional spin doctors, and our President is no different.  This is just one example.  Whether you are pro-life or pro-choice, you should be pro-truth.  Seek the truth and challenge those who proclaim false statements.  Call your Congressman.  We have got to stop drinking the Kool-Aid on this one.

Defying Urban Inconvenience

I’ve found that one has to trade convenience for living in the city.  This seems kind of counter-intuitive, doesn’t it?  You would think that living in a big city would mean that the world would sit at your fingertips, ready to cater to your every whim, need, and desire.  After all, it is entirely possible and highly likely to spend an entire month within a ten-block radius without leaving.

However, close quarters and high amenities doesn’t translate to convenience.  For instance, traveling the 2.09 miles from my front door to my office should, according to Mapquest, take 7 minutes.  Many in America would dream of a two-mile, seven minute commute to work.  One should be so lucky.  My very own mother travels 29 miles each way every single day.  Funny thing is, our commute has the potential to take the exact same amount of time.

One of the first things I did when I got my new job in Chinatown was figure out how I was going to get to work every day.  I checked the bus route, quite apprehensively, as I had never even ridden the bus before.  (I know, EMBARRASSING!)  I found out that the D6 picks up two blocks from my house and drops of a half a block away.  Perfect!

So, I go to the bus stop after reading the schedule, in hopes of catching the 7:31am Westbound bus.  But this is really a crap shoot because it could come at 7:31, pass me at 7:29 as I chase after it, or not until 7:43.  It has a mind of it’s own, it answers to no one.  I could arrive at 7th and E at 7:40 with time for a Starbucks visit, or not until 8:10.  You just don’t know.

Although unreliable, the bus is almost always interesting.  I’ve made a bus stop friend, Roger, who ran for Congress in 2006, has written a book, went to Harvard, and now gives Capitol tours to dignitaries.  I’ve witnessed two men fighting over whether or not the SmartCard lets you go into a negative balance.  (It does, by the way)  One man was so angry that he began screaming at the other man.  Everyone on the bus booed the yelling man and told him to get off!  He got angrier!  Finally, a woman in a wheelchair lifted her head.  This was shocking, as she appeared comatose.  What did she say?

“I’m getting ready to get out my knife and cut you both if you don’t shut up.”

I love Washington DC.

But, if the colorful bus ride doesn’t tickle your fancy, I’ve found a beautiful and environmentally-friendly (look at me, Al Gore!)  solution.  Bike riding.

I’ve mentioned before that my mother snuck my pedal-backward to break red cruiser in the UHaul a few years ago.    Well, I’ve filled the tires with air, dusted off the cobwebs, and taken to commuting to Chinatown on it.  It is the only beach cruiser I have seen on the work commute.  Yeah, I like being different

It’s quicker.  It leaves when I tell it to leave, not when it feels like it.  It’s exercise-ier.  You get to roll your pant legs up and weave in and out of tourist groups on the way to the bike lane.  You can sometimes run the red light, just because you are on a bike.

I’ve found a way to defy the inconvenience of commuting to work in the city.  Until it starts getting freezing…

DC Tourism Do’s and Don’ts

Image Obtained from JonKeegan.com

 

 

As tourist season begins to wane here in Our Nation’s Capitol, I feel it is only appropriate to share some of the do’s and don’ts of being a Washington DC excursionist.

DO visit the National Mall.  DON’T ask people which stores are the best.

DO ride the Metro instead of taking a cab.  You’ll save tons of money and you’ll get to feel urban.  DON’T stand on the left side of the esclator; that is meant for walking.  Stand on the right.

DO read the signs for directions.  Heck, carry a map with you.  DON’T read your map while attempting to cross the street.  Drivers here are merciless and it is rumored that Adrian Fenty rewards cash prizes for splayed tourists.  Joking…maybe.

DO walk to 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue for a glimpse at the White House.  DON’T stick your face all the way through the iron fence.  It will get stuck. 

DO take a tour of the U.S. Capitol Building.  DON’T judge your Congressman for allowing the intern to dress like that.  It’s no use.

DO take a segway tour of the monuments.  DON’T laugh too hard at your teenage son when you make him ride the segway.

DO eat at Old Ebbitt Grille.  DON’T eat at the Union Station food court… you can do that at the mall at home.

DO buy some DC swag, including t-shirts.  DON’T get upset if I ask you how you started your career at the CIA.

I’ve Had a Revelation

That’s right.  I’ve had a revelation in my seemingly never-ending quest to find a career that I love.  And here it is:

I want to create experiences that people will remember for the rest of their lives.

I have been struggling to sum up what it is that I love about everything that I’ve ever loved to do, and this is it.  For one, summer camp.  Camp means so much to me for many reasons, but I think that the biggest reason is because it has shaped my very character and being, molded the way that I live my life, and given me such joy in passing that along to others.  It is a pillar of my childhood, and I will cherish it for the rest of my life.

Second, travel.  I LOVE to travel.  There is something about exploring a new place and culture that gets into my system.  I love to see the amazing places that God has created, to see something so beautiful that it takes my breath away, and to know that it pales in comparison to what is on the other side.  That is real for me.  It is raw, and true, and so easy for me to understand.  I have rafted down 21-foot waterfalls, stared into the eyes of wild dolphins in the middle of the ocean, gaped in awe at the Sistine Chapel, felt a deep sense of patriotism while staring at the two gaping holes in Lower Manhattan, and knelt humbly at the altar in Santiago after finishing a 600-mile trek.  These are all events that have deeply impacted me, and I will remember them for the rest of my life.

Third, working at the U.S. Capitol.  Sure, the politics were fun.  The research, the learning, the craziness… all so fun and educational.  But my favorite part about it?  Being there.  Simply, it was choosing to walk through the Rotunda on my way to work and stand where Abraham Lincoln’s desk used to sit.  It was watching Members of Congress in shorts and t-shirts speaking about energy last summer even after the Speaker turned the lights out.  It was sitting in my boss’s office with my shoes off and a beer in hand and watching “Recount”.  It was watching visiting families’ faces as they walked inside the Dome of the Capitol building for the first time.  I worked in the most powerful building in the world, and I will remember it for the rest of my life.

So, with this connection, I think that I need to look for something that allows me to be a part of this again.

Where is the dating free time activity?

“Scuse me.”

A persistent tug on Owen’s t-shirt accompanied the interruption.  Owen halted his conversation with Roger O’Rourke, the jovial camp director whose football-player limbs resembled unmovable tree trunks, and smiled down at a squirrely boy of about eleven.  Roger patted the boy on the head, smiled at the pair, and walked toward the line of campers waiting to gain entrance into the camp store.

“Henry!  What’s up, buddy?  Where’s Mitch?” Owen asked.  Mitchell, Owen’s little brother, and Henry were cabin mates. 

“Oh, he’s in line for the camp store.  Actually, I was looking for you.  I have a question,” Henry said as he leaned against the stone wall that lined the stairs down to the swimming area. 

“OK, sure.  Shoot!” Owen hoisted himself up on the wall and let his legs dangle in the air.

“Well, ok.”  Henry pushed his glasses up his nose to keep them from sliding too far.  “I was wondering if you knew where the free time activity on dating advice is.  I waited in the chapel for a half an hour, but no one showed up.”

“Oh, I’m sorry about that man,” Owen replied, biting his lower lip to keep from smiling.  “I’m not real sure what happened, but you should go ask Jenny.  See her?  She’s out on the dock lifeguarding.  She’s in Watersports; I think they were the ones in charge.” Owen pointed his finger to the floating dock at a pretty blonde counselor wearing a red bathing suit and a lifeguard buoy over her shoulder. 

Following the imaginary line from Owen’s finger, Henry squinted past the group of kids playing a game of Marco Polo and located Jenny.  “Got it,” he said.  “Thanks!”

“No problem,” Owen grinned.  He watched as Henry bounded down the steps two at a time and dodged a group of girls sitting on the edge of the dock shaving their legs.  Hopping over a discarded yellow life jacket, he rounded the corner and tapped Jenny on the shoulder.  From the top of the stairs, Owen could see Jenny wince as she shrugged her shoulders and pointed to the pavilion.  Henry nodded dejectedly and walked away, sticking out his lanky arms to keep his balance on the swaying dock.

Henry climbed back up the stairs, only this time it was one at a time and at a much slower pace. 

“Man!” he said when he arrived at the top, kicking his high-top sneaker at the wall. 

“What’d she say?” Owen asked.

“They moved it to the pavilion, but it’s already over.  How come they didn’t tell people?”  Henry flared his nostrils and crossed his arms.

“Well, buddy, I’m not sure why, but maybe I can help you with something,” Owen offered, willing himself to think of something sad so he wouldn’t laugh.  “Do you have a question?”

Henry looked up, his eyes hopeful.  “Yeah.  I do have a question.  I was wondering… I was wondering what I should do if I want to ask a girl to the dance…” His voice trailed off along with his gaze, which was now aimed at the dirt floor.  After a few seconds, he peered through the top of his eyes up at Owen.

“You wanna ask a girl to the dance?  That’s awesome, man.  Who is she?” Owen held up his hand to give Henry a high-five. 

“Shhhhhhhhhhh!” Henry waved his arms frantically.  “She’ll hear you; she’s swimming right there.”  In a very nonchalant manner, Henry pointed at a group of giggling girls splashing in the lake.  “She’s the one with the brown hair and the purple bathing suit.  Her name’s Lucy.” 

“She’s cute, Henry,” Owen grinned.  Lucy emerged from under water with her hair piled on top of her head and they heard her shout to her friends, “Look!  I’m Martha Washington!”  The girls giggled as Lucy flitted around the swimming area offering the other campers a cup of tea and a visit with her husband, George.

“Yeah,” Henry agreed.  “So, how do I ask her?  She’s always with a bunch of other girls.  How are you supposed to talk to one of them?  She asked me to the dance last year, but she hasn’t even talked to me yet this summer.”

“Oh, well if she asked you last year then she must like you,” Owen offered.  “She’s probably just shy around you.  Girls are like that.”   Owen swung one of his legs up on the stone wall.  “Let’s see…  Well, you could talk to her counselor.  I know Anne – she’d ask her for you.  Or, I could ask Lucy for you if you want.” 

“No!” Henry’s eyes grew huge.  “You can’t ask her for me, she’ll want to go to the dance with you.  You’re a Leader-in-Training.  I’ll never stand a chance.”

“Okay, okay,” Owen held up both hands, backing off.  “How about we talk to Anne?” 

“Yeah, okay,” Henry said, looking relieved.  “That’ll be good, I’ll do that.  Maybe I’ll make a present in Arts and Crafts tomorrow to give her too.” 

“Good idea, buddy,” Owen replied.  He grinned and clapped Henry on the back.

“Hey!” A voice yelled from the top of the stairs of the camp store.  “Henry!”  Mitchell waved his arms in attempt to get his attention.  “You want a slushy?  Oh, hi Owen!”

Owen smiled and waved at his brother, four years his junior.

“Yeah, get me a red one!” Henry yelled back.  He turned to Owen and smiled a half smile.  “Thanks… Should we talk to her at dinner?”

“Yes, dinner is good.  Come and find me.  I’m on dish duty today but we’ll catch Anne on the way out.”

“Cool!  Thanks, Owen!”  Henry bent over, re-tied his shoelace, and ran up the stairs to skip in line with Mitchell.

Owen watched for a moment as the two of them spiritedly debated which flavor slushy was better.  He turned toward the waterfront so Henry would not see the chuckle that he could no longer suppress.

Dissatisfaction or Restlessness or Normalcy?

What do you call it when you dream about a million different things that are not a part of your life at the present time?  I definitely don’t want to label it being unsatisfied or having the symptoms of “the grass is greener on the other side” syndrome… because I don’t think that’s it.  I have a lovely and beautiful life with family and friends that any sane person would envy, I have a roof over my head and food to eat, I am fully confident in the meaning of life (to love God and to serve God and to love your neighbor as yourself), and I admittingly have done some pretty cool things for my age – hell, for anyone’s age.  I am blessed, and I wake up each day knowing that.

So part of me feels selfish or like a jerk to not be satisfied.  What do I do when I get bored sitting at a desk all day and daydream of visiting different places around the world?  Or dream and plan and search for a career that I can be in love with and feel like I am truly using my talents? 

I wonder how much of me is scared to keep branching out and how much of me doesn’t do it because I don’t know what to do next.  Hmmmm.

Camino Meal

Travel invokes a feeling of nostalgia within my being that I desperately yearn to duplicate.  It is no different with my latest adventure, the Camino de Santiago. 

Cat came to visit this weekend, and we decided that we would attempt to replicate various food items that we had eaten along the trail.  The dream began big with thoughts of an amazing piece of fish from Galacia, or jokingly, an entire octapus spiced, oiled, and chunked into squares to be eaten with toothpicks.  But as we found ourselves with a limited amount of time and resources, we settled on the following.

1. Patatas Bravas

This item was a regular on our tapas selection list.  Simply, chunked potatoes and a sauce.  Cat duplicated this pretty well, right down to the incredible pang of spice that makes your mouth water and desire a cool beverage. 

2.  Omelette Sandwiches

We ate these almost every day at a bar.  You basically slap this puppy\

on a toasted French baguette and you are in egg sandwich heaven.  Of course, this shopping experience was made classic when Cat asked the deli guy at Safeway for churros rather than chorizo. 

3.  Tarte de Santiago

This was one of our favorite items to eat on the trail.  It has the consistency of a dense pound cake, and you top it off with a stencil of the cross.

Don’t worry, that wasn’t ours.  The one I made turned out way soupier, but I was very pleased with it once i put it back in the oven and let it cook properly.  We didn’t have a cross outline (or scissors, for that matter), so Cat was able to tear a compelling likeness out of a slice of computer paper. 

Of course, what is any of this without some chef’s juice?  I had a bottle of Spanish wine that I thought was one I toted all the way back over the Atlantic, but alas, we found out that this one was bottled in Spain and purchased in Maryland. Oh well.  It was still delicious.

We sat on the sofa, turned on Comcast’s Music on Demand of a Spanish music video to remind us of every single bar television, and toasted our friends that we met along the trail. 

Our hearts want to return to the simplicity of the trail.  But, this wasn’t a bad substitute for the time being