Drunken Noodles and Pomegranates

The Titanic sunk. The noodles were drunk. And pomegranate juice is everywhere. Disaster X3.

But Thai Tanic, the restaurant, was not a disaster. It was delightful.

Tonight we enjoyed Thai cuisine at the original Thai Tanic location at Logan Circle. The service was prompt, the ambiance very pleasant, and the food very good.

I enjoyed Drunken Noodles, one of my favorite Thai dishes, and Thai Tanic's version (which included some lightly grilled tomato wedges on top of the noodles) was delicious. The portion was large and if I wasn't heading off to the west coast tomorrow morning, I would have taken the remaining 1/2 portion with me. As it was, I was happily satisfied. My dining companions enjoyed shrimp, asparagus and mushrooms in a light red chile sauce, and pad thai (which he proclaimed the best in the DC area of the restaurants where he's sampled Pad Thai).

But as wonderful as the food and ambiance might have been, the best part of the evening was the company. Dining with friends is pretty close to heaven - oddly, a topic of our dinner conversation (but that's another blog entry).

Adedayo Thomas, the pied piper of liberty in Africa (as I like to call him), joined me and my Atlas colleague, Pechwaz Faizulla, for dinner on the at Thai Tanic. Two amazing and brilliant gentlemen, and me. How lucky am I?

Peshwaz is the editor of Chiraiazadi.org, the Kurdish website and the managing editor of Cheragheazadi.org, the Persian website. Prior to beginning this work, he was managing editor of Hawlati, the highest circulation newspaper in northern Iraq, and on the editorial board of the independent news agency, Voices of Iraq. He received his BA in English from Suliemany University, and his MS in Journalism from Columbia University in New York. Little did I know that Peshwaz is also a YouTube cooking instructor, specializing in opening a pomegranate in this video! Although, I shouldn't be surprised, he is a chef in his own right (I have sampled his cooking and he could open his very own restaurant if he wasn't so dedicated to liberty!)

Adedayo is an affiliate of AfricanLiberty.org as well as its publisher. Adedayo is affiliated with the Free Africa Foundation and IMANI Center for Policy and Education based in Ghana. Through the activities of Africanliberty.org, Adedayo promotes libertarian ideas in the core Islamic institutions of northern Nigerian states. I met Adedayo 2 years ago at the Atlas TTMBA training in Virginia. He was as amazing then as now. This morning he was our guest speaker for Atlas's Liberty Cafe and shared the experiences of being a troubadour for liberty throughout the African continent. What an amazing leader of liberty he is.

And then there's me. A redheaded grandma ;).  Like I said. How lucky am I? Very lucky.

Try Thai Tanic, I think you will be very pleased with what you find, but I can't guarantee your dinner companions to be as entertaining as mine. I'll leave that to you.

Bon appetit. (And good luck with your next pomegranate!)

God BECKons

He was here. Not God, well not in person anyway. But Beck was definitely here. He commandeered DC in a way not seen for decades.

I didn't go. I am not wild about crowds, or heat, or evangelical gatherings. But I did watch. And I was surprisingly moved. I am not a Glenn Beck fan. His TV personality is more than I want to deal with. And after yesterday it's obvious he is not an orator, but I was still impressed.

The crowd was mesmerized. The ministers of all faiths never unlocked arms. Beck challenged us to bring God back into our lives, and our families, and our communities, and our country. His message gave me chills.

He's right. We need to be more about love and those God-given principles that give humans an edge over animals. We need to exemplify what's good and fair and right. All things "virtuous, lovely, or of good report or praiseworthy."

It's been said that the Elders of Israel will be instrumental in saving the Constitution when it is all but destroyed, when it 'hangs by a thread'. But before they can save it, they need to understand it. Before they can understand it, they need to want to. 

Beck (and others) felt a need to light a fire and stir our curiosity to study the Constitution, to know it, to believe it, to trust it. To trust God's divine role in its origin; to believe that he established the Constitution of this land, by the hands of wise men whom he raised up unto that very purpose.

Beck (and others) felt they needed to remind those who are fighting for liberty that theirs is a great calling, to help them recognize in humility the great challenge ahead. 

You never know when God will beckon. Yesterday he was waving madly.

Twinkle, Twinkle

My Dad called me Twinkle when I was born. Oh sure, Jean Elizabeth was my real name, but he called me Twinkle for the first few years of my life - he told me that I had a twinkle in my eye way back then.

For nearly a decade I have had a small sign in both my office and my home that reads, "We can't all be shining examples, but we can all twinkle a little," but it was today that I saw the connection between my little sign and the nickname my Dad gave me. I was pretty tickled, to be honest.

Tonight I took a walk through Courthouse, it was a beautiful night. I was returning to my condo when a quick blink (or twinkle) caught my eye - possibly similar to that special moment when my Dad looked into my newborn eyes. It's almost the end of lightening bug season, in fact, it is the end. I haven't seen one for nearly a week, but tonight there was one remaining twinkle as I walked home. One last sparkle before the delightful sight of twinkling lights hovering just above the grass disappears for another year.

And as I looked to the skies there were stars, twinkling in the sky. One here, one there, and then another, and another. Twinkling, then fading out, then twinkling again.

DC was twinkling tonight, at my feet and above my head. I'm sure it won't be the last time. I continue to be surprisingly enchanted in this world of business suits, cement, traffic, power and titles.

My Dad was onto something, all those years ago before I knew anything about this busy world of DC. He knew that just like the lightening bugs near the grass and the stars in our night sky, I can't be a shining example all the time, but true to my Dad's nickname for me, I hope to always twinkle a little.

Don't we all?

24

24.

A simple number.

A multiple of 1, 2, 3, 4, 6, 8, 12 and 24.

Two even numbers, side-by-side. Nothing odd about 24 at all.

What do you think of when you see "24"?

The award winning TV show?

24 Hour Fitness, where you sweat off pounds and inches? 

How many hours you have until this time tomorrow?

Two dozen? Eggs? Donuts?

The number 24 will have significant meaning for me forever.

At this moment the number 24 means only one thing to me.

It's the number of stairs to my condo.

The number of stairs I climbed up and then down and then up and then down dozens of times during my frantic unpacking - breaking down boxes - hauling to the curb marathon over the past 4 24-hour periods (days). I am exhausted!

I may be old. I may need to lose 24 pounds, or more. I may have hit 24 twice, plus a few more years. But I am determined, I am stubborn, I am strong, I really AM exhausted. But I did it.

24 stairs. Probably 24 times. In 24 hours.

Not bad for an almost 24 + 24+ 24(1/3) year old.

Not bad at all.

Offensive Driving Techniques 101

Do you remember the phrase, "if you want to soar with the eagles, don't hang with the turkeys?". No? Well, I do. And there are a lot of turkeys on the streets of DC, so soaring with eagles seems to be a bit out of range.

And speaking of eagles, the 1970's driver's ed labs at Eisenhower High, home of the Eagles, were high tech and extremely advanced, so much so that we were written up for having the most user-friendly and technically advanced teaching stations in the southern California driver's ed world. It was a proud moment when I slid my size 5 jeans onto the seat behind the wheel of that simulator. I can still remember the thrill, and fear, as I placed my hands at 2 and 10, sat up straight and waited for the lights to flash green. NASCAR had nothing on me.

Of course, speed wasn't an issue since we were in a stationary simulated driving environment, but I still felt the wind in my long wavy auburn locks....oh wait, this isn't a dating site. Let me get back to the issue at hand. Soaring with eagles, wasn't it? Anyway...

Defensive driving was stressed in every clip of the semester-long video taped course, and restated in person by the driver's ed instructor on a daily basis for those 4+ months of intense days in THE SIMULATOR. (think the Governator's voice).

But with all of the technology, repetition, simulated driving situations and even on-the-road, behind-the-wheel driving, no one every mentioned offensive driving - the most widely used driving technique in the DC area.

So here I am, the product of a recognized-for-innovative-excellence driver's education program, but clearly missing the learned skills of offensive driving. Thankfully, when driving the streets of DC,  instincts prevail and the desire to live overcomes any learned skills or formerly held belief that courtesy is paramount on the highways. An almost zealous need for speed takes over as focus is narrowed and determination kicks in.

My independent nature has kept me behind the wheel of a car since the day I arrived, in spite of the very efficient (and easy) Metro system that gets you wherever you want to go for just pennies. However, over the past few weeks, my will-to-live has run rough-shod over my independence. And thank heavens for that. There have been too many close calls with taxi cabs, pedestrians, bicyclists, parking meters, one-way streets (yes, I've turned into one so far) and congested traffic in general.

Oh, don't get me wrong, I may have turned into a one-way street going the wrong way, but I have also mastered the technique of cutting in front of cars, easing my way into a lane that is crammed bumper-to-bumper with commuters, pretending to not care that the speed of traffic is an average of 5 MPH, built up muscle to carry pounds of quarters at all times for the parking meters, and mastered successfully parallel parking in a space even my first bike wouldn't fit in. I can do all of this, it's just whether or not I want to. Turkey, or eagle, that is the question. Join the turkeys or soar with the eagles.

The ability to drive on the offense, while remaining acutely aware of other drivers and being defensive, is a quickly learned skill and I believe I've mastered it, which means I am still alive, still driving, but much more inclined to return to the simulator-like safety of the Metro than stay on the crazed-driver infested roads of DC and NoVa.

So, the Metro will see a bit more of me, even if my hair won't be blowing casually in the wind (except as the train approaches). But on those occasions when I do choose to drive, I will think of THE SIMULATOR fondly and sing our Alma Mater with a new found pride, because even if I am stuck on the ground with turkey's, in my mind I will always be an Eisenhower Eagle in size 5 jeans.

And that's that. Survival of the fittest. Avoid turkeys.

Be strong, be bold, be offensive. Be an Eagle!

And...I'LL BE BACK. (think the Governator's voice).

The Slow Demise of the Futon Era

Between home and office I tug a wheeled briefcase. It makes me feel as if my life is together.

But it really isn't. It's not that I have too much going on, in fact it's the exact opposite. Between home and office I have a half dozen or so personal belongings (not counting clothing, shoes, personal items). It's not that I have too much going on at all, It's that I don't have enough going on.

But this is about to change...

Yesterday a recently ordered area rug arrived for my office. Today I am expecting to see two new lamps. And tomorrow *drum roll*  the moving van arrives outside my condo. Life is about to become a bit more normal, which will be an amazing relief.

Soon I will see familiar belongings and spend hours placing a single piece of furniture or hanging a long-loved painting. It will be heaven; my new life and world will begin to seem more like home.

In response to an email from me explaining my schedule this week (which will be arranged to accommodate boxes and furniture and moving help), my boss declared the end of the futon era. All I could think of as a response was "Praise be and hallelujah!"

It's been a very slow but sure transition from NM to VA, but it's finally coming to an end. And not a moment too soon. 

Once my things get here, I will feel more familiar and I will be able to pretend that I am home. 

I wonder if that will ever really happen again. Me at home. Maybe in another era.

For the next few days, I'm still in the futon era, preparing for whatever is next. 

Bring it on.

Puddle Jumping in Heels

Take note. Black heeled pumps - so appropriate for the office - just don't work on the uneven sidewalks of DC in the middle of a storm. Puddle jumping in heels is not an Olympic sport, but it should be.

Let me backtrack a bit. This morning I woke up to thunder, lightening, dark skies and sheets of rain pounding on the drenched sidewalks two floors below my bedroom window. Following a near mid-life crisis of locking my keys in my condo (requiring a $251 visit from the local Arlington VA locksmith - a Sumo wrestler look-a-like with no fewer than 1000 keys dangling from his belt), the skies cleared just long enough for me to arrive at my office completely dry. Several monitor-staring hours later, it was time to head home, so I packed up and headed down to L Street only to find rain drops falling on my head, so I "did me some talkin' to the sun"...well, kind of. And for two blocks I implemented what I believe will become known as a best practice forward motion in a rainstorm. I did not wear my flip flops, remembering that they get slippery when wet. I did carry an umbrella to protect me AND my rolling briefcase from becoming drenched. And I paced myself, I didn't run or race down the sidewalk to beat the parking garage gate as I usually do.

I wore heels and jumped carefully over any puddles while maneuvering the uneven and flooded sidewalks of DC tugging a rolling briefcase behind me. Today was my first rain day and I prevailed. I think my attitude made all the difference (of course, I didn't really have a choice), and I owe that to Paul Newman and Robert Redford: Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.

And so there you have it. Today I met a Sumo wrestler, felt rain drops on my head, talked to the sun, sang in the streets of our nation's capitol, went puddle jumping in heels and trained for the Olympics. All for the cause of freedom. How many people can say that?

Just another day in DC.  Tomorrow I'm buying galoshes.

Disenchantingly Enchanting

DC is a strange world of its own. It's a melting pot. It's a humid place in the summer. It's a cold place in the winter. It's where our President lives. It's a destination for a global audience. It's not part of the United States, and yet it is. It's our nation's Capitol. It's where I live - well, within a few miles since I am actually living in Virginia. It's where I work.

And it's gray. Gray streets. Gray buildings. Gray suits. In this fashion year, gray purses, gray shoes. Lots of gray hair mixed in with the bold and bright colors of the young and restless. Sometimes (often?) gray sky.

But still, there's something about this place that can't help but grab you. The history. The monuments. The power. The people. The possibilities.

I drive by the Washington Monument every day. I cross the Potomac twice a day. I walk the streets and wonder who might have just walked there before me, or who might come along after. I marvel at the lighted monuments when I pass them at night. I shake my head in wonder as I turn left or right to avoid the heavily guarded side entrances to the White House grounds on my way to work.

Oh, I'm still sleeping on a futon (now covered in two layers of quilts and a just-bought Beauty Rest egg foam mattress pad). And my furniture has not yet arrived so comfort is not at the top of my daily experience, but I am somehow, somewhat enchanted in this land of disenchantment. Where people fight for power, lie for admittance and deceive for votes. My physical discomfort is somehow, somewhat strangely balanced by the warm emotions I feel as I experience daily the amazing reminders of freedom that surround me. Books, papers, speeches, monuments, testimonials, experiences and stories of those who fought, those who advocated, those who sacrificed, those who taught, and those amazing souls who continue to fight the good fight for liberty. In Washington, D.C., in the surrounding areas, and in my office Atlas Economic Research Foundation. Pictures and papers from the archives of Atlas telling a story of courage shared by so many as together we work toward global liberty for all mankind.

So, my enchantment comes from the root cause of everything that is DC - liberty. The ability to be who you want to be, where you want to be and how you want to be. The freedom to choose your life with respect for the right of everyone else to do the same. The freedom to hold hands in public, uncover your hair, breathe fresh air without the interference of cloth, walk on the streets without fear, share ideas without restriction, own property - both intellectual and physical without threat of government dominion, express personal faith and beliefs without prejudice, and more.

So, disenchanted as I may be at times, every day that I am here I become more enchanted. More here. And less "there". More grateful and less melancholy. More excited and less overwhelmed.

Today I am loving my life in DC and I am looking forward to many more days like this, celebrating and promoting and encouraging freedom around the world.

Gray can be beautiful. It's just not a shade I wear too often. I think I will have to experiment a bit. It is, after all, one of those neutral colors that goes with anything, even a redhead.

Ciao. From DC. With a smile (and a new gray suit).

Wishful Thinking

I wish I may, I wish I might...remember when that little mantra, whispered quietly as you stood in your front yard and gazed up at the stars, used to work?

It probably does still, and the the stars probably align at times too, but today I am not wishing upon any more stars, aligned or not. I'm kind of over stars right now.

"One day more" turned into one week more; one week more turned into two weeks more, and two weeks more is still mid-morph.  But I am here, in DC, smiling and wishing and thinking about how lucky I am to be here.

Good things don't come easy, but this move to DC has been a bit more difficult than I could have ever imagined. It can only mean that great things are ahead....right?

Life has taught me to be strong, tenacious, determined, forthright, but that being said, futons are not all they're cracked up to be. And sitting on the floor leaves a bit to be desired too.

It's amazing how a simple experience, such as a terrible move, can make you appreciate the little things. And I do.

But still, I wish I may, I wish I might...sleep on a real bed tonight.

Soon.