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).