Laws for Sale

Sometimes you find your friends and colleagues in the most unexpected places and doing the strangest things.

At least, it looks like their doing strange things.

Like this picture below which appeared in the March 7th New York Times magazine on page 9. In the context of the title of the article, "Laws for Sale", you imagine that this hapless lawmaker is being shook down by one of many, powerful, small-in-stature women of Washington, DC who have toiled in the back offices of Members' personal office, committee staff rooms, and leadership offices and then grab the reins of a lobby firm or association and they use their knowledge, cunning and wiles to back someone into a corner (sometimes literally) to get them to see it their way.

What's funny about photography and photojournalism is how much context plays a role how we receive the message of the photo. The context of this photo is that story about political arm twisting. This photo, however, is of my bosses. My boss, the Congressman, and my other boss, my Chief of Staff, are caught by one of the many roving photographers while they are having a conversation on a cell phone in a quiet corner of the Rayburn Room. The Rayburn Room is just off the floor of the House and serves as an ancillary meeting place, and apparently a place for photos. The hallway to the right, which is visually awesome because it creates this light v dark dichotomy in which these two are seemingly on the wrong side of the dividing column, leads to the offices of the Minority Leader. Also, and of note, down this hall is the closest bathroom for female Members. The men's room is just off the floor, located on the other side of the House Chamber.

This photo also leads me to think about how much I want to be a Roll Call photographer. This place is full of characters, of intimacy, of stress, or joy, and of frustration which all lend themselves to be captured on camera. If I can't leave this job to pursue that job, well then I can at least get caught up in moments and visuals like this that, despite what the headline above it may lead you to believe, exemplifies the real work and labor in Washington, DC.

Bad date

I feel like I can spot these, or least sense them enough to write
something. Katherine and I played the "how many dates?" game with
couples all the time - but this is different. Ok, maybe not bad but
bored. I felt bad for the situation. No talking. No jokes. Just
drinking and staring. Strange. Awkward. Who wants to go to bed
thinking about that? It's Banana Cafe!!! It's a piano bar with a blind
guy at the keyboard. Come on!!! I hate people who hate fun.

Nt.

Sent from my iPhone

What up Greeks?!?

Yeah, you're the bedrock of western civilization and you write a mean
fable, but how you like them apples?

No, I do get it.

It's not like when I shoveled my walk during a break in a snow storm I expected it not to not attract more snow. It's not that I didn't realize the Sisyphean task I embarked upon. After spending the better part of a week in the beginning of February in what turned out to be sunny Oregon, I was excited to come back to DC and clean the walk from the 18 or so inches that accumulated there. Someone had come through already and did a quick job, but armed with my trusty $11 CVS plastic shovel I cleared a path 5 feet wide while listening to a mix of the the new Jay-Z album and songs from the Funny People soundtrack - there is nothing like the juxtaposition of the humor and self-assurance of Jay-Z's "D.o.A. (Death of Auto-Tune)" and Ringo Starr's strong, wistful and sad song, "Photograph" to make you smile.

The rhythm of the scoop of the shovel and the swiftness of the clean swipe it takes at the snow shared moments of catharsis and exhaustion. Proudly I got to the corner and admired my work. What could make this better? Hmm...a sit on the couch, a warm up, and then a walk to Harris Teeter for some of their lovely "chinese food".

Sounds like a plan. But wait. Once you've gathered your jacket and lashed your laces around your ankles you've found that proverbial rock has yet again begun to roll down hill again and a light dusting has fallen onto those beautiful red bricks you exposed.

Quickly you navigate the streets of snow and the trenches dug for passage from one corner to the next. There is a silence falling as swiftly as the snow now. They are one in the same. It's like you're the only one moving in this space, but as you look around you see others trying to get out of, or venturing into, this mess.

Get your food. Stand in line. Go home. Quickly. But how do you approach the scene in front of your home?


The rock is now back at the bottom of the hill, and you can do nothing but approach it with some optimism, warm gloves, a smile, and maybe an IPA.

Please send snowplow.

Ohmmmm...

I chose this. I chose to get to the airport so I could skate through
security, have a sandwich and relax. So I wasn't surprised by the
lines inside or outside. But what I was surprised by was the number of
people who hadn't taken advantage of technology to check in or used
common sense and packed light. Zen in full effect, I lazily put my
boots back on I watched scores of people, newly unleashed from the
grips of TSA, bolting toward their gate.

Snow-way!

Following up on that incoherent and sloppy post from yesterday, I wanted to share what actually happened in the last 24 hours of my life, as opposed to having you guess.

My original holiday travel plans were for me to travel from DC to Portland on December 19, at 3:35pm getting me to the loving embrace of my family at 8:36pm on Saturday. This would be in time for a full day of birthday festivities for my father the next day, some shopping, then packaging gifts up and mailing then at the crisp hour of 8am on Monday which would start a very full and fussy Christmas week in Portland.

...other people had other ideas...

Not so much people, as the anthropomorphism of our global weather system - "Mother Nature".

I love strong women, and I even have had stubborn women endeared to me. Having said that Mother Nature is a real bitch.

Early in the week there was snow forecast for the weekend - the extent and exact timing not specific. Knowing that DC and Portland share the ability to flip-the-eff-out over weather and then shrug off the disappointment of what amounts to a spitting hissy-fit because, "well weather isn't an exact science," I thought very little of it.

It wasn't until approximately Thursday evening when I thought there may be an actual problem. What tipped me off was the absolute glee of my Legislative Director. There is nothing more enjoyable for Kris than adverse weather. She sits in front of her plate-glass window of her condo, cat on lap, looking over Arlington and out toward DC and watches as the little people suffer. Her high rise is her Olympus.

She was ecstatic about the forecast and all day Friday watched the Weather Channel and she had our browsers pointed toward Weather.com to watch the real-time satellite moving this blue and purple mass up the I-95 corridor. Meanwhile, my first flight was canceled. Son of a...well at least I was able to receive some support from the United Congressional desk which moved me to a 5pm flight.

I refused to acknowledged that this new flight may also be canceled, and held onto the fact that what ever was suppose to be coming our way was going to move through a lot faster than the talking heads initially thought. I felt blissful and safe in this thought until I needed to help someone move a car at 9pm and there was already an 1inch and a half on the ground.

My phone rang at 6:30am the next morning and a kindly computer voice told me my flight was indeed canceled. Lord. Ok. The kindly human voice at the Congressional desk offers me a 7:40pm flight from Dulles, but knowing that the weather is bound to deteriorate throughout the day and little guarantee of me being able to get the 35 miles to the airport without getting stuck in some van with 7 other travelers made me decide that it wasn't the Zen way to go.

Employing said Zen, I was told that the next available flight was Monday afternoon. My newly gifted relaxed state brought me to the conclusion that this offered me the chance at another gift: sleep.

Looking outside the snow was falling rapidly and was blowing swiftly into billowing banks a foot or more high. It was just 8:30am.

Zen. Zen in the face of 14+ inches of snow and a News Channel 4 naming contest: The Shopper Stopper 2009, Boom Goes the Snow and S-to-the-No, I think were the finalists.

I went back to sleep, warm in bed as the snow-pocalypse spread its doom across the city.

So when I woke up I decided that the best use of my time during a winter storm would be to be in it - despite the Mayor asking everyone to please stay in doors and the weatherman saying "you'll risk your life if you go out". I am not deterred by Chuck Bell at News Channel 4. Jim Vance maybe, but not smiley-Chuck Bell.

What followed was a walk down to the Mall and the Capitol Christmas tree, while warming up at the US Botanical Garden and gathering sustenance on the way at Eastern Market before settling into a double feature, sausages, a warm whiskey and a beer.

The Mall is supposed to be there.

And even in the most foul of weather Grant stands guard.

One of the trees in the Botanical Gardens...fog included.

The evening also included a major session of shoveling. I bought myself an emergency snow shovel at the pharmacy and cleaned about 80 feet of sidewalk.

Of course the day after a storm is always prettier.

Wow, I love a photogenic town.

And the day after the day after a storm is when I get to go home!