Dragville

There is a home video that Leah and I watched when we went out to Oregon for Thanksgiving 2001, of Uncle Brad and Aunt Rosanne doing a 'candid' interview. With typical quirky Brad humour, the scene in question consisted of Brad and Rosanne sitting side by side staring blankly at the camera; somehow Brad had manipulated it so that there was the clip art of a big red heart cut-out surrounding them. 'Well, here we are, Rosie,' Brad began. 'Sitting in the middle of a big red heart.' 'Oh, groan,' Rosanne said. 'It's Monday tomorrow. Blah. Pit City. Dragville. Monday!' 'You might as well get used to it,' Brad said. 'I bet you spend at least 1/7 of your time on Mondays. In fact, you probably spend ten years of your life on Mondays!' That's a great line to quote whenever I'm inclined to feel azure about Mondays. This Monday wouldn't be so bad if it didn't follow up on four days of partying and laziness. There's nothing like a four-day weekend to spoil a good work ethic.

On Thursday morning we got up (not too early, thankfully; last whirlwind visit to Virginia we swore off early morning flights once and for all) and finished packing, and flew into Reagan National Airport. It was only the second time I'd ever landed there, and the first time was unintentional. We had a great Thanksgiving dinner of turkey and co. with family, and then sat around digesting all evening. Michael and some of the boys set up a game of Axis and Allies. Toward the evening we ran out to HSLDA to look around and see how much had changed, and endeavoured to buy a paper on the way home to ascertain the sales. There was no paper to be had, not even for ready money. We spent nearly an hour chasing geese, and finally returned empty-handed. So much for the biggest shopping day of the year.

Friday we spent with relatives and friends alike. Saturday the menfolk went to see the Air and Space Museum Annex while we ladies had tea with Mrs. Smith. I shall never fail to be impressed with Mrs. Smith's hospitality, graciousness, elegance, and cultivation. You recall Darcy's definition of a woman of accomplishment - the cultivation and improvement of her mind by extensive reading? Mrs. Smith exemplifies this to a nicety. The spread laid before us recalled to mind the glory and splendour of book tea, dearly cherished and keenly missed. It's amazing how filling trifles and tidbits can add up to be. On Sunday we went to church and got to see so many dear familiar faces. The time was far too short and I wish we could have lingered longer. However, we had a pleasant afternoon of eating popcorn and playing Scotland Yard. Michael was introduced to this game two years ago, during the first Thanksgiving he spent with my family, and made so bold as to play Mr. X this time. He did quite well, attaining the bottom of the second column before capture, despite being dealt an inconveniently located starting tile. Benjamin also took a turn at villainy, evading us for an impressive length of time. His final demise lay in failing to notice that a bus line ran between two critical points. Well, the web was tightening, anyway.

Our flight left at 8:05 from Reagan. Not sure of what to expect in terms of crowds, we left in plenty of time. It turned out to be a breeze. The airport was dead and security a veritable walk-through. We reached our gate well in time, and then Michael had the happy thought to wander over to another gate where the 7:05 flight to Atlanta was boarding, and ask whether we could fly stand-by on that one. Genius! Amazingly enough, they had room, and we arrived home an hour ahead of schedule, with no rush or frenzy and no wasted time on the front end. It was much the pleasantest flight in recent memory, in terms of ease of boarding, comfort level of the plane (cosy to my thinking, stuffy to Michael's), selection of beverages (whole milk!), brevity of flight time, and deliciousness of airport food. Despite saving an hour, though, it was still far too late when we got home and brutally early this morning. Yawn. Well worth the weekend, though.