That’s all I have to say about that
On a recent trip to Washington, Neil Smith was strolling by the now-closed Washington Monument with his wife and grandchildren. The Atlanta man wasn’t disappointed that the monument could be closed for two more years, but he wasn’t all smiles, either. The reflecting pool was not in a state that he had been hoping to see. Thanks to major renovation work, the pool has been gutted and totally rebuilt — but, still mostly drained, a letdown to photographers and movie re-enactors everywhere. “Forrest Gump would not be happy with that,” Smith said.
Like a more persistent jackhammer
Two teenagers were walking down 15th Street in downtown D.C. on Monday morning, but their steps started to have a little more bounce when they approached K Street.
They could hear a protest just down the block, a labor dispute featuring a picket line and D.C.’s ubiquitous labor drummers. “It’s like African drumming,” one said to the other.
A man sitting outside at a Starbucks on the corner was tapping his fingers to the beat, as well. The protesters may not have won them over to the cause, but they certainly won them over to their rhythms.
Give that fan a contract — when she can write
A toddler was at her first baseball game of the season — and only the second in her young life — when a pop fly flew into the stands at the Bowie Baysox game against the Akron Aeros on Sunday night.
The ball rolled away.
But seconds later, a man came by and handed it to the little girl. In a blur, he walked away, leaving her holding the ball and the girl’s father astonished.
An avid baseball fan, her dad hadn’t gotten his first foul ball until in his 20s and here was his daughter, less than 2 years old, with her own ball. Another fan, a grandmother, said she’d never gotten one in all her many years of loyal fandom. The toddler showed her ball gleefully but held it tight when they gathered to look.
She then headed to Olive Garden for scampi
Upon returning from a weeklong vacation, a Silver Spring resident dreaded what she would find when she opened her front door.
She had left the morning of June 30, when the power was still out, and she knew the electricity had not come back on until Tuesday, or maybe Wednesday.
She opened the door on Sunday to a powerful stench. So much until waiting until trash pickup to clean out the fridge, she thought.
The woman began tossing food, holding her breath as much as possible. Bad yogurt, stinky beans, curdled milk. Then on to the freezer, where she knew the raw chicken was waiting.
Out the five disgusting pieces of chicken went. Leftover dinners — gone. Frozen fruit, into the trash can.
And then, she found the real source of the odor: her two bags of raw shrimp. Once gray-purple and frozen, they now were orange.
The shrimp had steamed in the freezer.
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