Batting Practice at Nationals Park

     My weekday lunches usually consist of what I can scrounge up in the kitchen and an episode of Vampire Diaries.  However, this particular day was unlike any normal weekday.  Instead of searching through the refrigerator, I jumped on the metro and headed for Navy Yard-Ballpark for some hot dogs and a little batting practice (BP, as the professionals call it), my replacement for expired lunch meat and television entertainment.

     The Zhaoster had more points to spend with United, go figure, so he bid and won on a batting practice day at Nationals Park.  Instead of having a random occasion, the Zhaoster turned it into a going away party for some of our friends; I guess we need an excuse to do fun things these days.  Anyway, 35 of us showed up to the ballpark that day to partake in a baseball tradition dating back to the 19th century.  Groundskeepers, look out; there's a large group of nerds donning helmets and swinging bats looking to tear up an immaculate field!

Da Dubs back on the field again.  I think they are considering recruiting us for at least the job of bat boy.

A wonderful, fun couple who had to move to Houston far too soon!

The Zhaoster and Teddy.  Someone should probably tell the President that his pants are a little high water.

The "cage" for our BP.

Do you think he truly needs those glasses?  Too school for cool.

Thumbs up for the spread.  Best lunch ever!

Outfield angels.....similar to snow angels.

Yes, Teddy even had a glove that we could use.

Pop fly!!!

Grounder!!!

Let's play some catch.

Got it!

Little League photo shoot.

PDub in the "cage."

The gloves, cell phones, and water bottles table.

Spitting in the dugout.

The team.....looking to take on the Nationals next year.

Ignite your natitude.....and look cool doing it.....

.....Or not.  Boys will be boys.

The call to the bullpen.

More Little League photos.

The girl must be on roids......that's the fourth homer she's hit.

PDub nabbing one of Jdub's homeruns.

Now that's the best group of people I've ever seen in a dugout.

First pitch jersey that President Obama wore and signed.

First pitch jersey that President Bush wore and signed.

The visitors' locker room where some of the greatest players have prepared for their games (not to be confused with the players in this photo).

Eglise St-Eustache and the Angelina Tearoom in Paris

     I had been in Paris for three days but had yet to feel like it.  The places we had visited were saturated with tourists, and the people we had spoken with did so in perfect English.  I love my country, its language and culture, but when I travel, I want to escape my every day and experience difference.  It took three days, but the Eglise St-Eustache (Church of St. Eustace) brought tears to my eyes with the realization that I was in Paris.

     My senses were overwhelmed that day sitting on the small, wooden chairs, watching the sun make its way through the stained glass windows, and listening to the largest organ in France echo magical notes off the arched ceiling.  Goosebumps surfaced on my arms as I thought of the individuals who had been in this very church; Voltaire buried below, Mozart during his mother's funeral, and Louis XIV taking his first communion.  Now you might see why my Parisian travels became a little more Parisian.

With late Gothic architecture the church was built between 1532 and 1632.

The gorgeous archways and tiny wooden chairs.

Stained glass windows.

The altar.

The largest organ in France.  Boy, could it sing!

For those organ savvy readers, it has 101 stops and 8,000 pipes dating back to 1854.

     After our trip to church, we satisfied our sinful appetites with the extra-thick "African" hot chocolate from the Angelina Tearoom and of course our first macaroons.

PDub really can't handle the sun; hence, the awesome face.

One of my many French addictions, macaroons.  One of each please.

Rodin Museum in Paris

     Auguste Rodin (1840-1917) was a French sculptor who initiated modern artwork.  Unlike other sculptors at his time, Rodin strayed from decorative or thematic works and focused more on realism and the character of the model.  Near the end of his lifetime, Rodin used the Hotel Biron as his workshop, and upon his death, Rodin's works and paintings (Monet, Renoir, van Gogh) that he had acquired over the years were donated to the French State on the condition that his workshop and surrounding grounds would become the displaying museum.  In contrast to other museums, the Musee Rodin has tasefully placed Rodin's sculptures throughout the gardens making the viewing warmer and more enjoyable than being in a white-walled room.  We spent some time walking through the gardens and his workshop.

The Kiss, highly controversial at the time since the female was placed at the same height as the male.  Hello birth of feminism.

The Three Shades......not to be confused with a huddle or fifty shades.

A romantic shot in front of the Gates of Hell (sculpted after a scene in Dante's "Inferno").

Hold that just a little longer......

Call Me Maybe?  Rodin was way ahead of his time.

Cheese.  (Queso).

A stroll through the garden.

The Thinker.

Two thinkers.

I don't think he is thinking and therefore, not a thinker.

A couple.

Another couple.  Do I smell the roses?

The Hotel Biron, Rodin's former workshop and showroom.

Grandparents' Day

In honor of Grandparents' Day, PDub (with some major convincing) and I decided to journey down memory lane and pay a tribute to our grandparents.  Although we have lost a few thus far, each of them remains living in our hearts.

JDub's Grandparents.......

Grandma Zella: I still drink out of her blue, vintage glasses, choose my earrings out of her jewelry box, and cook in her cast iron skillets.  Even though my favorite color is green, I will always be partial to blue, her favorite color; she made this very clear by her blue house, blue Buick, and blue outfits.  Sleepovers with grandma always included playing marbles, watching Lawrence Welk, clearing off the books on my half of her bed, and waking up to the smell of frying bacon.  She was the classic grandmother, spoiling her grandchild and pushing her to be the best in whatever she did.

Grandma Zella would do anything for her little JDub.

Grandma Burtch: When I was growing up, her house was one of adventure and satisfied appetites; we used to cast tents in the living room and drink homemade chocolate milkshakes, disassemble mattresses for trampolines and shake chandeliers on the floor below, perform dances and cheers and see how high JDub could fly, devour potato rolls at dinner and cinnamon rolls at breakfast.  Now that I am grown and more adult than I used to be (although jumping on beds is still entertaining), I think a great deal more of my grandma; if anyone can teach you about class or how to be lovely, it is surely her.  With every pair of heels I slip on and every unmeasured recipe ingredient I throw in, I will think of her.

Grandma Burtch has been there for every major step in my life, pushing me to be lovely in everything I accomplish.

We can't forget about my parents and their grandkids.

PDub's Grandparents.......

Grandpa and Grandma Tolka:  When I was little, I remember going to their house with my sister every Sunday.  We would usually play marbles or rummy on teams; I was always on grandpa’s, and my sister was always on grandma’s.  The competition was always intense, but no matter a winner or loser, we all got ice cream.  If my sister and I had missed the Saturday morning cartoons, Grandma and Grandpa would have them recorded for us to watch.  During the hot summer, I remember riding in the tractor with my grandpa, feeling like I was on top of the world.  With every farm field I pass, to this day I will always be reminded of Grandpa and Grandma Tolka.

Grandpa Tolka with his new love, Doris (boy, can she bake!).

Grandpa and Grandma Williams:  At the age of 8, my Grandpa bought me my first set of golf clubs (Lady Velvets) from a rummage sale and took me to the golf course.  Every summer from then on I spent with him out at the country club, throwing him out of golf carts and searching through creeks for our golf balls.  Looking back now, I can’t believe the patience he had teaching me to play and watching me top it or duff it shot after shot.  As for Grandma, I remember playing Monopoly or Rummikub and always having the suspicion that she was sneaking extra tiles for Rummikub (apparently both sets of my grandparents were very competitive).  She would also race me to put my seatbelt on in the car, such a good way to teach a kid to strap in and I still think of her every time I get in the car.  Unfortunately my Grandpa passed away earlier this year, but he will be with me every time I tee it up.

Grandpa and Grandma Williams, married for 60 years.