Words for How We Feel Now

Thanks to Twitter, I stumbled upon this fantastic video by Emily Troutman. Bird and Deal were perched on my lap watching with me. It proved to be a great reading lesson for Bird, and Deal just liked seeing all the Obama pictures. And I must say, the song is catchy. I'm gonna download the Killers today.

So the word I would add to the montage is PEACE. How about you?

5:00 Fridays

A toast to our 44th President, our first chief who hails from the state of Hawaii. And I understand it's cold out there but I figured Barack deserved a tall, cool cocktail that's just like him.


Blue Hawaiian

1/2 oz rum
1/2 oz blue curacao (Stock up on this. I tend to use it a lot.)
1/2 oz creme de coconut
1 1/2 oz pineapple juice

Mix it up in a blender with ice. Pour into a tall glass. Garnish with a wedge of pineapple. Sip and enjoy what Hope tastes like for a Change.

Witness to History

One of many posters among the crowd. This one was held by a little girl of nine who had just arrived by train from Tampa with her single mother and younger brother.

Buildings across DC wore mantels of hope and change. This one speaks to a top of mind issue: wars we're waging in two countries. Notice the reflection of the American flag in the window.


Words from the AFL CIO.


My buddy Barack and I. I'm not packing on the pounds here, just seventeen layers.


Mac Daddy and I at about hour five in 19 degree temps. This is just before he started complaining about the cold. He wouldn't have made his Wisconsin brethren proud. Note the shearling coat. He hasn't worn it once in the seven years we've lived in North Carolina. I was bundled up to the max and didn't lose feeling in my toes until hour six. Our smiles were frozen on our faces.


Speaking of Wisconsin, meet Governor Doyle. Mac Daddy recognized him when he departed the warm bus on his way to his seat. Mac Daddy called out his name, which is totally out of character. Mac Daddy is a political junkie who knew the names and party affiliation of everyone who stepped off that bus. He cooed as if they were rock stars. I just snapped photos. Governor Doyle was extraordinarily gracious. He came over and shook hands with Mac Daddy and chatted him up for a while. Notice he is not wearing a hat or gloves and that his scarf is casually askew as if his wife made him sling it on for good measure. 1) He's from Wisconsin. 2) He got to wait in a heated bus and building.



I'm unclear why a cow and yellow chicky looking thingee was trapsing through the city. Yet another Wisconsin tie?


Roads and several metro stations were closed. Several people braved the cold to bike to the festivities. I swear there were a few thousand bikes parked here. We're getting greener already.


The crowd. No photo does it justice. Wall to wall people like I have never seen. Throngs. Masses.


A true fan. Her dogs had to have been barking after standing in those massive heels for so long. I think she got those boots from the Kiss Fan Club eBay store. Lord knows what's in the suitcase. Based on heightened security, I'm guessing she didn't get admittance to the swearing in ceremony or parade. The balloons were a nice touch.


Secret service. See the tall guy on the left? He was freezing his tenders off. He was visibly cold, painfully frigid. I offered him my extra fleece ear warmer headband. He declined. He tried really really hard to look cool (as in suave). Instead he just looked like a popsicle.

See the white structure on the left with a slanted roof? That's Obama's viewing booth in front of the White House. He walked down this path before taking his perch to watch the parade. Our seats were right in front of this shot.

Sniper dude on the roof. I think he looks like a Minute Man in this silhouette. You'd never find me on a roof pitched like that.


One of my favorite photos. Snipers on every rooftop. And in places we could not see.


The second limo is the one President Obama is in. And how do I know this? Because I watched him get out of it! Mac Daddy and I had parade tickets (Thank you, Ali!) right at the spot Barack and Michelle got out of their warm car and walked to their viewing booth, waving and grinning as one would expect. We were on pins and needles watching them, and the secret service was oh so very nervous.


President Barack Obama and his lovely wife Michelle. I could barely snap this photo because seeing them up close and personal took my breath away.


So what can I say to do justice to this experience? How can I adequately paint the picture of what it is to be a witness to history? The thing is, it's not hyperbole to say we witnessed history. We all did that day. Whether on CNN, BBC, or 15th and New York, we watched history unfold before our very eyes. And indeed it was a privilege. I've been running over the weekend's events in my head like an 8mm movie. We'll have a tale to weave one day when we tell our grandchildren about January 20, 2009. History is made in small ways and grand strokes everyday, but it's not everyday that we are wrapped in the folds of it.

Mac Daddy and I bundled up and headed to the Lincoln Memorial on Sunday for the We Are One concert. It was pretty freaking cool to see a sea of hopeful souls, all in awe of history being made. We met up with an old college friend of mine whose mother had seen Martin Luther King Jr. speak in the very spot decades ago. Poetic. It was simply poetic. I don't know about you, but it's not just everyday that I get to see Bruce Springsteen, Kal Penn (whom I love...yeah for the Indian actors!), Steve Carell, James Taylor, Laura Linney, Garth Brooks, Usher, Denzel Washington, Beyonce, and U2 share a stage. Garth really brought the house down. Everyone audibly gulped when Bono waxed every so slightly about Palestine. There was no room to dance, but we all swayed. We clapped. We cheered. We hugged strangers and befriended all those around us. You see, we were surrounded by half a million people who share our values and sensibilities and enthusiasm. We were engulfed in passion. And later when we got home, we embraced Bird and Deal and sang Woody Guthrie's This Land is Your Land along with the TV.

On inauguration day we bundled up as if were were shooting in the Himalayas with David Breashears. We made our way toward the Mall but turned away in the end, fearing we'd lose our parade spot for which we had a first class ticket (right next to the CBS jib). The scurry of secret service agents, police, and soldiers was straight out of an MGM back lot. We met secret service agents from Oklahoma and New Mexico and were privy to some behind-the-scenes tales of candor. We learned that one in three secert service agents was in DC on Tuesday. And the poor guys had been perched in their spots since 3:00 AM. AM, as in the middle of the night. The wee hours. We heard stories from a particularly friendly cop from Maryland who ushered Demi Moore, Ashton Kutcher, Tobey Maguire, and Usher to their service jobs on Monday. He had almost 20 years of service under his belt and was full of stories for our keenly attentive ears.

What struck me most was the crowd. A human Crayola box filled with all shapes, colors, ages, religions, backgrounds. An Arab woman and her New Yorker husband and their three kids shared a bleacher seat with us. African American women lead us in song in an attempt to warm us up. A Jewish couple chatted about their hopes for Obama's administration. A retired couple, the man on crutches, sat patiently sipping tea. Young hipster kids smoked incessantly and visibly wept when Barack Obama took his oath of office (and truth be told, so did I). We met people from Tampa, Las Vegas, Rochester, Atlanta, and yes, even a few locals who dared to venture out. Everyone was excited, positive, eager. And I'd be remiss if I didn't mention we were also hungry, freezing, and tired. But it was so worth it.

And let's not forget that united people, no matter how cold and uncomfortable, still have a sense of humor. Upon Joe Biden taking the oath of office, the crowd broke out chanting "Cheney's out!" and "Cheney no more!" The cheering and clapping and eruption of joy was deafening when Obama took his oath. Mac Daddy and I kissed as if we were under mistletoe on New Year's Eve. Indeed, on January 22, a new year had begun.

Sitting on the Edge of History

Here we sit perched on the edge of history. H.I.S.T.O.R.Y. And for a change, we are participants, not mere observers. Not watching it on our seven year old 245 pound Sony Wega TV from the comfort of our Lego strewn family room. We are in our nation's capital, among the cast of characters playing a small role in this new episode of America.

The Dirty & Noisy family is in frigid DC awaiting the Obama festivities. Today starts with a concert at Lincoln Memorial. All I can do is hope to catch a glimpse of Bono and Will.I.Am. All I can do is hope to hear Obama's booming words. I have been lucky to see him up close and personal a couple of times so I am not so desperate to see his beaming smile and graying head within reach. I simply want to be a part of the moment. I want to be wrapped in the making of history, surrounded by my fellow Americans who worked so hard to get us here today. I want to document this as a proud chapter in my own life story and as a prelude to my sons' civic engagement. I want to bask in victory, gratitude, inspiration, change.

We are still debating taking Bird and Deal to the Lincoln Memorial concert. Oh, how we want them to feel the energy and the digest the significance of this inauguration. We want their civic memories to begin ignited with glory and excitement and positive vibes all around.

Tuesday marks a chapter closed in our tumultuous recent history. And now a beginning replete with the most slippery of emotions: Hope.

Hope is where we are hanging our hats. The Change we hoped for has come.

Writing That Moves Me

DC Urban Dad is playing the role of doctor today, and so I'm following through on what the doc ordered. Sadly, what he ordered had nothing to do with obtaining new shoes, a Wii Fit, iPhone, or trip to Hawaii lickety split, but it's pretty cool nonetheless. And you what, it's actually a whole lot better.

He's given me an award. Moi! An award! I'm feeling so Sally Fieldish right now! This is the best thing ever since my marching band trophy in seventh grade!

So here's where the attached strings start getting frayed.

When accepting this auspicious award, you must write a post bragging about it, including the name of the misguided soul who thinks you deserve such acclaim, and link back to said person so everyone knows he or she is real. Choose a minimum of 7 blogs that you find brilliant in content or design. Show the 7 victims’ names and links and leave a harassing comment informing them that they were prized with “Honest Weblog.” Well, there’s no prize, but they can keep the nifty icon. List at least ten honest things about yourself. Then, pass it on!

First of all, let me say that DC Urban Dad is one rocking father. I am a daughter. I have a father. I can speak firsthand to the importance of a strong father/daughter bond. I can speak from the perspective of a woman who was never a daddy's little girl. You see, I missed out on the magic of father/daughter bonding. It's a post in and of itself that I won't get into now. But I can see in the tone and heartfelt melting of DC Urban Dad's writing and heart that he cherishes his little girl. She is one lucky kid. She will be destined for greatness simply because she will be known she is loved. For that I applaud him, honor him, and toast him. So go take a gander and see for yourself. He's unapologetically human, proverbial warts and all.

So here goes, 10 things about me that you will likely regret reading:

1. I make my bed everyday but Sunday (my idea of letting up on being uber anal). I cannot function if the bed is unmade. Seriously, it is paralyzing.
2. I never had wingback Wanda hair but I did have purple hair and a Josie and the Pussycats stripe in high school.
3. I once bowled a 3. In ten frames. I was not drunk, blindfolded, or in diapers. Just an extraordinarily shitty bowler.
4. I had bunion surgery. It was worse than childbirth (my sons' births, not my own, of which I know nothing about).
5. I once had over 200 pairs of shoes that I kept labeled in boxes, organized by season and color. Clearly that was before I had children.
6. I talk with more moxie than I really have. I actually lack confidence and compensate for it with sass.
7. I can put my whole fist in my mouth. It's proven to be a fantastic bar trick over the years.
8. I was married once before I met Mac Daddy. I was young. It was horrible. I tried to call off the engagement but didn't have the guts to do so. See # 6.
9. I like limburger cheese. I lived in Deutschland and ate the real deal. I'm telling you, it's good stuff.
10. I cannot ride a bike. This is not a joke.

So here are the fine folks I'd like to tag, all with an excellent voice, all with a story to share:

Julie Pippert: Using My Words
Dad's House
The McMommy Chronicles
Wat da Wat?
Emancipation of a Drama Queen
Magpie Musing
Okay, Fine, Dammit

5:00 Fridays

The cocktail wearing today's Dirt & Noise mantel requires no further explanation. Consider what today is...the last Friday that Bush is in office. This drink packs a punch so exercise caution and responsibility.

Adios Motherfucker

1 oz gin
1 oz light rum
half ounce tequila
1 oz vodka
1 1/2 oz blue curacao
2 oz sweet and sour mix
1 oz Sprite

Shake all the alcohol and sweet and sour mix in an iced cocktail shaker. Pour into a festive tall glass filled with ice, then add Sprite on top. Just for kicks, garnish with one of those tiny toothpick American flags poked into some blueberries.

Now party like it's January 20, 2009!

Wordless Wednesday: What I Miss