Skating DC Memorials

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It’s been an excellent weekend for skating, and DC’s a great town for it. I was out on my wheels for four hours yesterday and four more hours today, and my legs sure are tired. Yesterday I went down New Hampshire to Dupont Circle, down Massachusets Ave. to 16th Street, stopped at the White House to watch some roller hockey players at President’s Roadblock, then circled around down the Mall to the Smithsonian Museums.

I switched to sandals at the National Gallery of Art and checked in my backpack and skates to wander about the galleries and look at paintings. Beautiful collection! I got to see works such as Copley’s Watson and the Shark, Rembrandt’s Apostle Paul, Da Vinci’s portrait of Ginevra de’Benci, and an especially intriguing series of four narrative paintings by Thomas Cole: The Voyage of Life.

From there, I skated up to the Washington Monument, then around the Tidal Basin to the Jefferson Memorial, where I stopped to take photos of the view from the Memorial to the White House. From there, I struggled down the rough gravel paths along the opposite end of the Tidal Basin to the Franklin Delano Roosevelt Memorial, a pleasant affair of fountains and carvings decorated with quotes by FDR.

Today was a Mall-and-Reflecting-Pool Day. After hanging out again at the Washington Monument and lounging a bit on the grassy hill to watch kitefliers, I went around the Reflecting Pool a few times, then took off my skates to view the following Memorials, in order: Korean War, Vietnam War, and the Lincoln Memorial. Then, I rolled back down the Reflecting Pool and back up to the Monument to watch the sunset. As it grew dark, it was a long, grueling uphill skate back around the White House and up Meridian Hill to get back home.

Whew! Some additional skating notes for beginning and aspiring DC skaters tomorrow. (And Aaron might also have some advice.) I’m exhausted.

Mobile Blog

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With the Blogger API up and running again, I can post to my mobile blog once more; only now it’s published to my blog sidebar on this page. (Which leaves me at a loss as to what to do with the blogspot space. Ah, forget that.)

Well, it’s such a nice day, I’m off to skate down to The Mall so I can hang around one of the Smithsonians. See you in the mobile sidebar! :D

Martin Burnham saved his wife

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Martin Burnham’s bullet-riddled body was found “covering” his wife. What a hero; apparently he tried to protect her to the last.

According to Lt. Col. Padua, the Scout Ranger Team was using selective sniper tactics to take out terrorists, so the automatic weapons fire that killed Mr. Burnham had to have come from the Sayaff side.

Well, now I’m far less inclined to rush to judgement in condemnation of the military for the deaths, but now that the Abu Sayaff have no hostages, the time to attack is now. Also some input from Soliven, plus some history of the terrorist events in Munich in 1972.

Kablog!

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Kablog! Possibly the most bitin article on blogging I’ve ever read. While he does an okay job of defining what a blog is, he doesn’t even link to available blog tools and resources for his readers’ benefit. On the upside, he does mention Lia and the BBox people. (And himself, which by the way is not very good journalistic practice unless it’s your own regular opinion/features column. Hay naku, bahala na siya. Maybe I’m just bitter at not getting linked. Heh heh… ;)

SMS formmail

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The SMS form is back, running off a simple formmail script I whipped up so I could learn PHP’s mail function. Feel free to send short, sweet text messages to my cellphone, and if you include the number to your SMS-enabled GSM phone, perhaps I’ll even text you back. Ain’t this internet thing great?

Wild Rhode Island Vacuum-Breathing Beasts

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Strange, vivid dream last night:

******* and I became powerful celestial beings, and we went on a grand Solar System tour. As I was showing her the Galilean moons by name, I told her not to land on Europa because we might disturb the life there. Suddenly, we saw strange creatures — sort of like Stephen King’s Langoliers — only with plaid skin, floating around Jupiter’s upper atmosphere. “Look!” I said, “wild vacuum-breathing beasts from Rhode Island! We have to get away!”

“How did they get here from Rhode Island?” ******* asked as we fled, nasty gnashing beasts chasing us away into outer space.

“Earth must have been destroyed,” I said, “We need to get back and see.”

We returned to Earth, but it was still there.

<SUDDEN SCENE CHANGE>

Upon returning, I was put in a medium-security mental institution, where they kept me for ten years. I actually felt the ten years go by in my dream, with much drama and tears. But my room had a TV, carpeted floors, and a soft bed, so I was happy. At the end of it, the warden showed me my status report, and told me I had made amazing progress from the malnourished, raving schizophrenic I had been when I was committed.

I was free to go, but the black steel gates were still tied shut with knotted rubber bands. A pair of rollerbladers glided past outside. As I attempted to undo the knots, a young man with Parkinson’s sat behind me, talking about Jesus. I tried to share the Gospel message with him, but I don’t think he was getting it so I just left him a tract.

I opened the gates, and suddenly woke up, annoyed that I was no longer a powerful celestial being and wondering how floating beasts from Rhode Island could possibly breathe the vacuum of space.

Then I woke up. Yes, it was one of those dreams.