I drove to DC early Thursday. That was unfortunate, because I wasn’t trying to drive to DC. I was aiming for the city of Reston in northern Virginia. I had planned to take I-95 to the Occoquan exit then 123N to 7100N to 606 into Reston. That bypasses some of the heaviest holiday traffic near DC. But oh no, I had to get into the HOV (high occupancy vehicle) lanes north of Fredericksburg (at the urging of electric highway signs that proclaimed the HOV lanes were open, AND at the prompting of my GPS – it certainly wasn’t my idea!). And who knew that when you commit to the HOV lanes, you can’t get out?!
The HOV lanes are between the north and southbound lanes of I-95. As I soon discovered, there are no exits from the HOV lanes. There was the small consolation of being in less traffic, but I had no choice but to drive past my exit and into the denser regions of the DC area, where construction (for the Metro) seems to be going on everywhere, and where the highway twists and turns as though you’re driving on a single strand of spaghetti amidst a plate of spaghetti, with highways crossing above and highways crossing below – sometimes at the same time. The road jiggled left and right amongst orange and white construction barrels while signs beside the jersey walls warned ominously, “Stay In Your Lane”. At one point the GPS said “Exit right ahead,” and so I did exactly that – I took the next exit on the right. As soon as I exited I knew I had made a mistake. Taking this exit is NOT what the GPS had meant – it was simply giving me a heads up to get into the right lane. But the GPS knew I had exited too soon and began giving me a series of instructions to get me back on the interstate and headed in the right direction. I had no idea where I was, but the GPS did, and it got me back on the highway and on to my destination.
I visited Ron (my first cousin once removed) and his mother Betty and son Nick. As it happens, Betty is an excellent cook. For one thing, she enjoys cooking, and when you enjoy doing something it helps make you good at it. Plus, she’s attended cooking schools and cooking classes and watched hundreds of cooking shows and learned by doing. So the food was delicious, and of course I, having virtually no will power, pigged out and now I’m afraid to step onto the bathroom scale. I’m afraid I’ll break the little thing.
We had soups and salads and turkey and dressing and cranberry sauce, and ham and green beans with slivered almonds, and mashed potatoes and crescent rolls and pies and cake and other sweet things. Leftovers involved turkey-rice-carrot soup, turkey with brown gravy, fried potato cakes, biscuits made with wheat beer, and other goodies. And all the time there was the ever-present temptation of potato chips, pita chips, pastries, and other high-calorie carbs all calling out, “Eat me.” The morning of the day I left to drive home, Betty cooked French toast made with panatonni bread and drizzled with real maple syrup. Plus, oven-baked bacon.
Betty made this pie; it’s the one thing I didn’t taste. I think it was a cranberry pie. Betty said it tasted like cherry pie.
Betty’s grandson Nicholas made this pumpkin pie. For a topping, Betty made whipped cream with a little vanilla added. Outstanding!
The traffic driving back was much worse than the traffic driving up to DC. Bumper to bumper, high speed, slowing to 20 mph, then speeding up, then slowing to zero, creeping stop-and-go for a few miles, speeding up, slowing to 40 mph, speeding up, slowing to 10 mph, speeding up again … you get the picture. Not fun! But here I am, blogging again.
I hope you had a wonderful Thanksgiving! But heck, even if you’re alone – nothing wrong with that! Kick back with nachos and beer and watch TV. Find a restaurant that’s open and that has a bar, and have a beer (or iced tea, or coffee) and chat with other people who are at the bar by themselves – chat with the bartender if she’s not busy.
And give thanks for something good in your life.
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