Before his internship started, Spence and I went to D.C. to see some sites and spend a few nights on Pennsylvania Avenue before retreating to his basement in Alexandria.
He actually lives really close to Mount Vernon, GW's palatial 1700s estate. In fact, his ward meets on land that was part of Washington's spread.
I think Washington was right; he had the best backyard in America. Exploring his home, gardens, harbor, stables, and fields, we saw the genius and the vision of the nation's first president. Suffice it to say you have to go, and that he was an inspired man.
Of all things to share photos of, this is the Washingtons' outhouse, which I thought was finely named in its day: the necessary. Such a more tasteful word for the bathroom. We were also sobered by his slave quarters, impressed by his inventions, and grossed out by his dentures.
Mom and Gaylen were also in D.C. for the weekend—and they had a car! With such good fortune, we made it to Arlington, the National Cathedral, Rock Creek Park, and the temple, all in 24 hours.
The stained glass was beautiful, but we didn't see any fireflies. (Spencer was promised fireflies.) We took a pass from both sides and to see it floating in the night sky (right before the underpass spray painted "Welcome to Oz").
When Spencer and Gaylen worked, and Coco and I cycled up the C&O Canal, another Washington brainchild. Then we admired art in the National Gallery, which was featuring an entire Gaugin exhibit, all exotic. We also toured the two works the National Gallery director would grab first in case of a fire: the only Lenoardo DaVinci in the Western Hemisphere,
Ginerva de' Benci, and Rembrandt van Rijn's self portrait. Each is worth its own post.
Our photos stop with the requisite loop around the White House, where the snipers who usually hide atop the roof certainly made their presence known. This was the day of rapture, after all.
Jace would be so jealous. Niels and I watched Bloodsport tonight, back to back (well, Niels watched it back to back. I just caught the epic synthesizer love scene and Jean Claude's final match. MATAY!).
We had some nice beach time at the lake, too, where Aunt Deb showed Katie and me a thing or two about human ruddering a stranded sailboat.
The masking tape failed overnight, but that navy blob in the window—yes, that's the neighbor's newly acquired intramural championship T-shirt, hung up so the world can know an intramural champion lives here.
The Gras Fairez (the boys tried to be Grass Fairies last season but BYU frowned on that, thus the new, Latin-esque spelling) claimed the upper-division soccer title. I celebrated by basking in intramural dominance at the pool with Emily (who won her own matching t-shirt in softball that day).
He actually lives really close to Mount Vernon, GW's palatial 1700s estate. In fact, his ward meets on land that was part of Washington's spread.
I think Washington was right; he had the best backyard in America. Exploring his home, gardens, harbor, stables, and fields, we saw the genius and the vision of the nation's first president. Suffice it to say you have to go, and that he was an inspired man.
When Spencer and Gaylen worked, and Coco and I cycled up the C&O Canal, another Washington brainchild. Then we admired art in the National Gallery, which was featuring an entire Gaugin exhibit, all exotic. We also toured the two works the National Gallery director would grab first in case of a fire: the only Lenoardo DaVinci in the Western Hemisphere, Ginerva de' Benci, and Rembrandt van Rijn's self portrait. Each is worth its own post.
Our photos stop with the requisite loop around the White House, where the snipers who usually hide atop the roof certainly made their presence known. This was the day of rapture, after all.
