Our plan this morning was to wake up early, throw on the closest walking-around clothes, and dash out to see the Great Mall. This is my first time in DC, right? Surely the Great Mall is worth spending a couple hours touring. Having spent some time yesterday walking down to the Lincoln Memorial, I wasn't overly motivated to wake up and GO GO GO!

So, when my phone rang around nine am this morning, I was a little confused at the ringing wake up call, since we hadn't called for one.

Imagine my surprise when Kris said hello. Kris. Kris, who was supposed to be on a plane flying towards me, I thought, as I looked at my watch and saw it was after 9 and his flight left at 8. "What are you doing? You're supposed to be on a plane right now!" I asked quickly.

"Time difference, it's only 6 here."

"Oh."

"But Chookie isn't here and I can't get through to him. When do I just drive?"

"Umm...." I really need to practice becoming instantly alert when I wake up. Soldiers can do it, go from sleep to instant awake. It a trait you pretty much have to learn in order to survive. That, and being able to fall asleep instantly when you have the chance.

I offered to call Chookie and Martha, since Kris didn't have Martha's number, and call him back. Five minutes later, I called him back. "Go. Now."

"Damn, I need to get gas, too."

Yeah, I wasn't in much of a mood to go walk the Great Mall any longer, in case this didn't work out. The only thing I could think of was, "Aw, crap. Another one?" Our last flight out of Dulles to Europe five years ago started our honeymoon at Kris' parents' house (which was nice to visit them, but not how I wanted to spend the first day of our honeymoon).

Kris managed to make his flight, purchasing gas, driving like the wind, taking the first long-term parking spot he could find, grabbing the first available bus to the terminal, and dashing through security.

Jessica and I had a leisurely breakfast and a slow packing morning and an easy drive to the airport. As we were eating and packing up, I watched Jessica change from the fun, relaxed, entertaining woman I spent the last few evenings with, to a tense, stressed, unhappy woman. She seemed to just implode with weight of the environment she was returning to. Maybe I'm projecting. *shrug* I could be. It was painful to watch.

The ride to the airport was uneventful. After seeing Jessica off at the gate, I wandered down to the baggage claim for United, found a power outlet, signed up for wireless and settled in for the four hour wait for Kris. Honestly, though, power, wireless and a working laptop? I'm good to go.

At dinner tonight, Jessica commented, "You don't blog about me much any more."

"Uh..."

The statement caught me a little offguard.

People have boundaries, I explained. Some people don't want to be found on the internet at all. Some people have to warm up to the idea. Some people embrace it. It depends on where your boundaries are.

My personal space is BIG (around three feet, actually, with strangers, about three inches with friends). My internet personal space, however, is small. I don't mind writing about farting (everybody does it). I care about some things (you don't really need to know about my migraines, really), but for the most part, eh, whatever.

Jessica, however, doesn't like being "out there." She won't upload pictures of Gabby to the Intarweb™ because there "might be a child molester out there that sees her picture and comes to get her." She may think a weblog is a little excessive on the laying bare part. She's more publically private.

And there are a lot of things I, too, keep private. Though there are clearly a lot of things I don't, there are plenty I do, as Kris can attest.

I try to respect her boundaries. I try to respect other people's boundaries, too. If someone tells me something personal, I'm not going to post it. If I wouldn't tell it to your face, I won't post it. It's not like you couldn't track the source back to me anyway.

So, no, I didn't post every adventure we've had.

That's okay.

Same speech, different format.

On my way back to the hotel, Jessica texted me that she was in a meeting, to take my time, so I decided to walk along the Great Mall. I wanted to see the Lincoln Memorial, more so than any other monument or statue in the area. Since there wasn't any reason not to go, I went.

I was quite entertained at the pickup game of ultimate happening on the Mall. I ended up setting a couple games, one was a lunchtimate game, of crappy quality and not enough people. The other was a high level game with subs, enough for another game, if they wanted to start another game.

As much as I wanted to join in the fun, I was there to walk the Mall, so I kept walking.

The sun cooperated with me with the Washington Monument.

I felt the irony was lost on the Dubnium-sounds-like-a-dumb-president, who authorized the World War II monument.

Yes, I was really there.

Eventually I made it to the Lincoln Memorial. Although there were "Quiet please, be respectful" signs up all over the place, the place was loud. I went up the stairs, dodging small children and school aged kids as they darted in front of me playing on the stair, and walked into the Memorial. I had hoped it would be quiet. It wasn't.

Didn't stop me from crying though. I was overwhelmed with emotion, and unable to do much more than step behind a column and wait until the moment passed. It did. I had a big red nose, and tears in my eyes.

I guess that's the point of these Memorials, to help us remember those who are dedicated in these buildings, remember their actions, their work, their successes.

I just found out today that the tenant that gave me so much grief last year is actually a convicted felon who spent five years in a Federal penitentiary for armed robbery.

Holy crap, I really wish someone had told me that BEFORE I agreed to rent the place to the asshole.