We took a trip to New Hampshire in order to drive up Mount Washington (and spend some time in Littleton). And yes, we got the little "This Car Climbed Mount Washington" bumper sticker.

What I want to know is: How is it more people have not died going up this mountain?!

No guardrails next to a hundred-foot drop. Steep hills, smoking brakes. Barely room for two cars on the road. Unpaved portions of roadway. High winds. I could go on.

We absolutely loved the experience, but there was no small bit of terror involved. Both on the way up and the way back. I'm just thanking my lucky stars that the mountain closed the day before I was going to take Trevor up there alone in our little Kia last year. I think I would have had a panic attack on the ascent.

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These are adorable little houses that I pass on the way to the DC office in the morning. In some areas, it looks like the neighbors collaborated to coordinate their colors. It all looks very colonial.



I wonder how they mow their tiny front and back yards. It can't be practical to buy a lawnmower for five square feet. Communal mowers? Landscaping service? At least one of them took the,"you don't have to mow overgrown vines," approach to their lawn.

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This lovely vanilla buttercream cupcake came from Whole Foods on P Street. The buttercream was lighter than the one I made a few weeks ago, but the cake was drier. When cupcakes are too dry, I tear off the bottom half and throw it away. Because really, why bother eating bad cake?

One of the things I look forward to on my trips to DC are my dinners from Whole Foods. Me and all of the other yuppies line up alongside the prepared food counters and give each other self-satisfied looks.

The blog Stuff White People Like offers this advice:

"They also provide prepared foods, that single white people often purchase to avoid cooking. This is important information, as this section of the store is loaded with single white people."

I will vouch for this, having witnessed many a budding romance begin next to the hearts of palm salad. He goes to pick up a recycled paper tray and finds that a stack of ten come away at once. His other hand is full of silken tofu and greek yogurt. He smiles sheepishly. She puts down her basket and unsticks one tray for him. She picks a folding container which separates neatly. He makes what he thinks is a witty remark about her picking the "non-sticky" ones. She smiles at his pseudo-witty remark. They notice they've each grabbed a similar wedge of iceberg lettuce with blue cheese and bacon. And there it begins...

I like to stare at the Devonshire Cream and wish there was a way to get it back to Vermont. Eventually, they ask me to leave.

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One floor down from the top of the Washington Monument, we saw a lesson in the democratic society our forefathers built:

At the monument, you're shuttled to the top floor, where you can stay as long as you like. When you'd like to return, you walk down a flight of steps and catch the elevator back down, which arrives every 15 minutes. There's usually a wait, so the Parks Service has put up signs directing visitors to wrap the line around the elevator in a clockwise direction. Even then, it might take one or two cycles for your turn to head to the bottom. It's all very clear and orderly.

We were waiting about 10 minutes for our ride down, when a family of three arrived to take the elevator as well. Like so many people today, they believed the rules did not apply to them. The trio gathered in front of the elevator door, clearly taking notice of the queue and avoiding it.

We reached a point where the people on the line started looking at each other, as if to say, "Are these people for real?" Oh yes, they were for real. The mother looked up at the sign (Please form line this way ->) and sighed heavily. She pointed it out to the father. He chuckled, and told her it didn't matter. The adult son looked up as well, then glanced down the line with a look of triumph that said, "I am not like you, I don't have to wait."

A Park Service employee came around the corner and asked if they were waiting for the elevator. "Why, yes," they preened, so flattered at being asked, blinded by their sense of entitlement, that they were shocked by what happened next.

"Please step into line over there then," said the Park Service employee.

The mother blinked and froze for a moment before she moved. The father shook his head at the injustice of it all. The son looked everywhere but at the people in line. Right after "all men are created equal," in the Declaration of Independence, I believe there is a line about "first-come, first-served."

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The National Geographic Museum has a new frog exhibit on display. These little guys look like toys, but they're poisonous -- the golden ones are even deadly to the touch.

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A sign in Washington, DC. I think you pronounce this time, "Six a. o'clock m." There were several of these signs posted at every entrance to the building.

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These lovely ladies are Lucretia Mott, Susan B. Anthony and Elizabeth Cady Stanton immortalized in stone. The trio were relegated to the basement for 70 years, until 1997, when Congress suddenly remembered that women had been granted the right to vote and moved the statue up into the daylight.



I wonder what they would think of a woman running for president. And I wonder if they would vote for her.

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While the White House tour was underwheming*, the Capitol tour was excellent. We requested it through Rep. Peter Welch's office a few weeks ago -- and one of his staff showed us around the building for over an hour. The Capitol is filled with incredible workmanship tucked into every available space.



You can find uniquely American details everywhere, like the stalks and ears of corn on otherwise Roman-looking columns and statues memorializing important people and events from each state. Vermont's statues were Ethan Allen and Jacob Collamer. I vote we replace Collamer with Samuel de Champlain. Not an American, but hey... not many people were 1609.



Cameras aren't allowed in the House gallery, but we did see some suspension bills about memorializing Iraq War veterans being heard on the floor. Trevor enjoyed the artwork hanging in the tunnel between Longworth and the Capitol Building.

*We spent more time going through security than in the White House itelf. It was a self-guided tour; which essentially meant you wandered through velvet ropes as security guards glared. We reached the exit in about 15 minutes and looked around, bewildered, wondering if we had missed something.

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Dave and Trevor had a full week of sightseeing in DC while I was working.



Apparently, you only have to bring them up 490 feet in the air before they stop tormenting each other.

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It was a quick visit, we essentially took the subway from Madison Square Garden, got out and saw the tree (and the crowds) then went back underground and got into the car. I think Trevor was more enthralled by the subway system than by the big tree itself.

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