In the Same Room

Not much time to post before Jenni arrives in DC - good thing my power returned this afternoon and that the air conditioner has kicked into high gear. Who doesn't love a morning without power? For those of you who heard about my awful night during which I lost the fight with a Pellegrino bottle of sparkling water - my finger is slowly healing. Good thing I bought the jumbo size box of Band-Aids.

This afternoon at approximately noon, Arne and I were together - in the same room - breathing the same air. No, I didn't talk to him or shake his hand - without my glasses on I could barely see the guy! But, those are all minor details - the importance of this post is that I was there - with Arne - together! Next week Arne will be speaking at a conference in Crystal City and I am hoping that we bump into one another again - old friends that we are!

When I have more time I'll have to share a few of my disappointments with Arne, but for now I am blissfully happy thinking of him in his light blue collared-shirt with the sleeves rolled up - oh Arne.

"You are an Ironman!'

For the past few days I've been thinking about how best to tell the story of Lake Placid Ironman -2010. It is hard to capture the energy of an event that is 140.6 miles - or, a trip that is longer in distance than the journey from our house in Northampton to John & Dee's home in Milton (112 miles). Unless you can witness 2000 swimmers hit the lake that early morning or watch cyclist after cyclist zoom by, it is difficult to imagine.

In a gift shop near the Olympic hockey rink where a American Cold War victory took place in 1980, hangs a t-shirt that reads, "If you have to ask why, you don't understand. Ironman, Lake Placid." I think that sentiment captures much of the Ironman community - a dedicated collection of super-athletes that train, ride, run, swim, and subject themselves to incredible mental gymnastics all to claim membership to a prestigious club. I'm certainly not a member - but I feel privileged to have witnessed Jeff, determined and focused, achieve his goal of becoming an Ironman.

I think there are two categories of people in an Ironman - those who finish and those, sadly, whose body or mind fails them on that Sunday. To witness the finish line was incredible - there was pure joy and elation beaming from those finishers - even those with bloody thighs from a bike spill or - my personal favorite - the man who ran across with his arm in a sling. Watching Jeff run through the finisher's shoot was amazing -

Below are a few more pictures from the event - Enjoy.

(I did a miserable job capturing the event, right? But, really, what is there to say? Athletes swam, biked and ran for an entire day. In summary, that was Ironman.)

Team Jeff - sans Dad who was capturing the shot- posing with the official Ironman t-shirts.

Jeff racking his bicycle the morning before race day.

Kerri-Ann marking one of the transition bags with #510.

The Ironman

Yes, my luggage just arrived. A Southwest agent called me late this afternoon to assure me that my luggage had been found and that it would arrive at my doorstep before midnight. Funny, I've heard that line before...

I managed to take a shower this morning - sans my DevaCurl shampoo & professional hair dryer. I embraced my

professional shoes and walked to work - in the sweltering heat - without my flip flops. My feet, unfortunately, have paid for that in a big way! Two bloody heels and a nasty swollen baby toe, but such is life in a swamp.

It's too late to write about the event, but I thought a photograph or two would inspire all of you to take to the beach, the bike or the trail and get moving!

Of course, you could always kick back and be a cheerleader -

Luggage Lost

The plan this evening was to return to Washington, DC, upload the pictures of Ironman Jeff competing at Lake Placid this weekend, and compose a fantastic story about the swim start and the body marking in the morning, about the cheering crowds and the inspiring athletes, about the impressive Guru, Felt, and Cervelo bicycles and the voice of Mike Reilly as he announced, "You are an Ironman" to runners crossing the finish line as spectators screamed on the lawn of Lake Placid High School. These details and memories would be complimented, of course, by the fantastic snapshots of Jeff - in action - on race day. And, all of this would be contingent on my camera.

So, where might my camera be? Somewhere, I suppose, in flight from Albany to Baltimore - and, no, not on MY flight - that would be too easy! Southwest - that friendly heart nestled between two wings - didn't deliver the happiness they promise when my luggage - on a direct flight - didn't arrive. Sipping on my Auntie Anne's homemade lemonade (there are those of you out there smiling knowing how much I enjoy the AA lemonade) and patiently waiting for my luggage, I thought to myself, "There is no way that my luggage won't make it from Albany."

The hilarious moment of the evening was when the lost-luggage-attendant asked for my address and I had no idea where I live in Washington, DC. I stared at him blankly for a second - then, as you might imagine, I gave him a detailed explanation about my internship at the DOE and living away from home and missing my family and my Ironman husband - and then 1838 popped into my head and I suddenly remembered my home address in DC.

So, soon enough, I promise to give the play-by-play of Ironman 2010 and to share a host of other memories that have transpired since I became overwhelmed by city living!

For those of you following the hair drama - my curly locks looked FABULOUS in the upstate NY mountain air so I am seriously considering a change of address. And, as for the aching left tooth - my visit to the DC dentist followed by the long conversation with my crazy Amherst ancient-Roman torture dentist - the pain has subsided some. I'm now sitting by my cell phone hoping that Southwest calls this evening and drops off my bag before midnight...

Carlos & My Kitchen

None of you seem too worried that I haven't posted in a few days - four days, friends & family, four days - is anybody concerned about my health, happiness or safety? I might still be hiking up the 10 flights of escalator stairs in Dupont Circle that have been broken all week or crawling along the miles between Metro Center and L'Enfant Plaza since the trains have been experiencing delays; I might be locked in the Department of Education reading peer-reviewed journal articles about the upcoming reauthorization of IDEA; I might have been whisked away by Arne Duncan who suddenly realized that my intelligence, sparkling personality, and drop-dead gorgeous frizzy hair compliment him in such a unique & powerful way that, together, we could reform education policy in America!

Or, a more likely story, my new friend, Carlos - the plumber - and I were mopping up my kitchen floor with two dish sponges for an entire evening. And, there is the story of the week, folks. The tale that has left me exhausted for these past few days. The flood of apartment 302 caused by a dish washer that had never been used!

Monday I was beaten down by the delays and closures on the Metro. The Dupont Circle station, my destination, was closed. I got off at Metro Center - a two mile walk - to my apartment. The humidity was unbearable. I thought that taking a cab would be an easy way to get home quickly, in air-conditioning, in an automobile that, as an American-girl, I've missed these past few days. And, as you might imagine, the taxi ride I had imagined did not transpire. Instead, the cab driver insisted on open windows for ventilation - welcoming all the humid, heavy air into my space - and insisted on blasting NPR in my left ear. As if that wasn't defeating enough, he then talked to me about his financial situation and his opinion regarding Obama and BP. It cost me $10 to travel 2 miles. Ridiculous!

So, Tuesday was guaranteed to be a better day. The broken escalator greeted me at Dupont Circle but I didn't care - today was going to be a success. Truthfully, it was a good day. Arriving home, I was ready to quickly wash dishes, make lunch for the next day, change into shorts & a tee shirt and hit the town for some exercise. It was all on the up and up until I heard this strange dripping. Water was slowly creeping out from the edges of the dish washer. How strange, I thought since I don't know how to use the dishwasher - a technology that is clearly beyond my skill set. I'm happy to wash dishes like Laura Ingalls Wilder on the prairie.

Now, here's the part where I'm an idiot. Instead of calling for help, I decide it would be best to open the dish washer. And, just as I rethink the intelligence of that decision, water comes rushing out onto the floor. Who doesn't love splashing around, kicking their feet, playing in the cool and refreshing H20?

After trying three different numbers with no response, I head outside my building to use the call box to locate a manager. I dial 100 on the silver box. It rings. A voice. I tell my situation. The response, "I'm on vacation." I'm speechless. Silence. Then, the voice says, "I'll see if there's anything I can do. But, like I said, I'm away."

I head back up three flights and take out a pink sponge. What's a girl to do? The only logical response in this situation - start mopping. Carlos arrives. He saves the day. He's my plumber hero - a Brooklyn man from Nicaragua who was a water angel. He felt so sorry for me that he grabbed a purple sponge and stayed with me until the kitchen floor was dry.

So, if you were wondering how I've been, all is good now. My kitchen floor is spotless. My plumbing problems are solved. Arne hasn't called although his message is clear. It's time to embrace charter schools because the Obama administration sees them as our best and only alternative to improving public education. The Metro is a poor excuse for transportation. I'm looking forward to Friday. DC is a fantastic city - one that I'm finally starting to understand geographically. The weekend promises to be one of adventure as I venture out - solo - to explore.

The lesson I learned - plumbers have a more useful skill set than doctoral students.

President Lincoln, President Obama...President Weir?

As most of you can imagine, I have so much to share about my weekend with mom and my first Monday on the job. Yet, I am so incredibly exhausted from the day - it began with my metro card being demagnetized...again - and ended with the Dupont Station closed because of smoke. I stormed out of Metro Center - frustrated because I had to work late and combat the commuting crowds - only to emerge from the station to a rainstorm. With the thought of a two-mile trek home, I opted for a cab ride which became a disaster in its own right. Any time you are discussing FICO scores and credit reports with your cab driver in bumper-t0-bumper traffic with NPR blasting in your ears - well - it wasn't an easy ride.

As for the snapshot - that's me in the infamous Ford's Theatre where President Lincoln was assassinated (for all those weak on their history - and YOU know who are!) - I am sitting tall in the seat where President Obama sits when attending functions at the theater. Yes, it's totally lame and extremely tourist-like to snap that photograph, but I just couldn't help myself. Me, Obama & Lincoln all breathing the same air - magic!

There's lots to share about the weekend - however, it's been a tough day. The good news is that I'm heading to the DOE tomorrow - the building where Arne lives & works - so there is a possibility - slim, of course - that we might casually meet on the elevator. I'm bringing my camera - More importantly, I got insider-information that my good friend and fellow Trinity bantam lives in the same neighborhood as Arne - this opens up a whole new set of opportunities for a 'chance encounter.'

One last thought - Osamudia & Ted - I love the policy discussion. The only thing better would be the three of us hammering it out in Washington together.

Au Naturel

"In the natural state," according to Webster and that's how I headed out this morning. A dime-sized amount of Bumble and Bumble's Curl Conscious defining cream and out the door I went. For the first time, my walk to Dupont Circle was perspiration-free. Things were looking good. The metro card easily slid through the machine, I smiled at the station manager who was sitting in his office this morning and down the escalator I went.

The ride to Metro Center was easy-breezy. It was only when the train headed toward L'Enfant Plaza pulled into the station that I could feel my commuter face morph from 'indifferent' to 'annoyed.' On crowded Friday mornings when the entire city is moving to and fro, it should be part of the Commuter Pledge that we all agree to make room for others. Look, I like to stand in the wide aisle by the doors, too. However, when a group of people three deep need to get onto the train, Lebron James' cousin needs to MOVE! The man was huge - both vertically and horizontally - and while he was clearly staking out his claim to the spot next to the doors, none of us could get around him.

I made it to work with a minimum amount of drama this morning. I made sure, too, to carry my curling spray in my salmon-colored bag and touch up my hair with a few sprits before entering the office. Those of you who work with me at South Hadley High know, I struggle when my hair is "naturally curly" because I just know that people find me more intelligent with straight hair! But, my genius will have to shine through the frizz.

No Arne news today - other than my discovery that the Department of Education posts clips to YouTube and that you can see Arne - in action - reading to children, addressing the Charter School Conference, or speaking with Randi Weingarten, an old friend from my NYC days. There are a few video clips where he looks dapper with his sleeves rolled up - a sign in the Obama Administration that our government is hard at work! I suggest you spend a few minutes, Osamudia, wasting time on YouTube to see the AD highlight clips.

As for my Special Education news - (and this information is only interesting to those of you who belong to the SpEd Club) - someone actually said today, "How do we ensure FAPE in the LRE?" I nearly choked. Sometimes, the acronym-dropping is just too much. In related news, there is an awesome new article written by Doug Fuchs about the blurring of special education. The "Hollywood" of special education folks are heading this way for the OSEP conference in a few days and Fuchs will be there! In all my nerdiness, I am overjoyed.

Mom will be arriving to explore DC with me this weekend. I imagine that when she arrives she'll be curious about the ironing board in the kitchen (I can't figure out how to close it), the fan that is precariously perched next to the dresser (who knew it required assembly) or why the Fluidity Bar is center stage in this one room place (because, despite what the infomercial says, it is difficult to fold up and slide under the bed!).

Hope that all is going well with each of you. Thanks for the comments - it's as if we are having a conversation. I'm always happy to have an education policy discussion, Ms. Osamudia, only don't be too critical of Arne. Watch your words, he's a superstar in my world. Enjoy the weekend...

Demagnetization, Salmon, and Arne

To begin, I have to thank all of you for your comments, your hair suggestions, the extensive research some of you conducted regarding best practices for keeping frizzy hair follicles to a minimum. I appreciate, too, the challenges you've thrown my way - add pictures, include hyperlinks. I was hesitant to begin this blog, but now am incredibly thankful for it has allowed me to feel "close to home" despite being far from all of you whom I love you.

I am so defeated by the hair situation that I cannot write more than a few lines. I washed, I dried, I curled, I sprayed. A minute out of the air-conditioning, it fell. By the time I entered the DOE, it was in a ponytail - I lamented with the security guards. I bought a fan this evening at Rite-Aid. The woman was pleased to announce that I earned $7.00 toward my next purchase of hair products. If she only knew...

You'd think the subway commute would be a breeze. I navigated the NYC subway - happily riding along on my favorite E & F trains. But, this DC commuting catastrophe would be hilarious if it weren't so hot and I wasn't so defeated by the time I arrive at Dupont Circle. This morning there was a slight breeze in the air that lifted my spirits and fewer people at the station because I left earlier. With all the ease of a native Washingtonian I inserted my metro card and - nothing. Instead of welcoming me into the underground it read "See station manager." Seriously? Why?

Logically, I approach the station manager office and - empty. There was a man in a uniform with an orange vest standing near a garbage can feverishly text messaging. In my khaki Ann Taylor pants and adorable new salmon colored top, I say, "Excuse me. Do you know where the station manager might be?" Was I wrong to assume that since the man was standing near a garbage can AWAY from the station office and TEXTING on his phone that he might not be the station manager? Apparently, I was wrong to make that assumption. In an annoyed and gruff tone, he responded, "I'm the manager." Really? 'Cause you aren't where you should be, you aren't doing what you should be doing and you're annoyed because I assumed you weren't in charge. (Okay, I kept that thought to myself, and sheepishly apologized.)

He took my card and walked away. There I am - Ann Taylor pants & salmon top standing next to a garbage can. So, I followed him. He was silent. He went into the office. He came out. He handed me the card. "It's demagnetized. You need a new card. Go to Metro Center - they'll fix it for you." What? Demagnetized? What a ridiculous problem! Perhaps, DC, if you stopped using metro cards that were PAPER and could easily be 'demagnetized' by cell phones, I wouldn't have this issue. Isn't this the nation's capitol? Shouldn't this subway run more efficiently than any other? NY has a metro card made of plastic - an extra card I carry in my wallet always - is there a reason why DC's card is useless when placed near any piece of technology that could suddenly, without warning, wipe it of its magical magnetic power? I bought a new card. I assume I'll waste time some afternoon at Metro Center trying to transfer the $25 remaining on my useless card to a new paper card.

I recovered. Bought a new card and headed down into the ground. Wasn't I looking professional, poised, and polished walking toward the DOE? Nod to the Homeland Security building and in I go to work. I drop my bags at Security and watch them go through the imaging machine. I commiserate with the guards about the humidity and my hair. And, wait, my new, fabulous, sea-shell cream bag that holds everything without looking like the apocapurse has a salmon tint. Visualize 1980s eye shadow color smeared all over my purse. Apparently, my fabulous shirt bled onto my purse. So, now I have a shimmering salmon-sea shell purse that looks absurd. Any suggestions as to how to remove that stain from my new bag?

It's fine. No one is looking at me, my hair, or my purse on the subway. How could they? They're all probably clutching their metro cards protecting the magnetic strip from demagnetization - nobody thought to tell me.

But, alas, a highlight of the day - an email from Arne. No, not to me directly but to my inbox. I was reading a GAO report (for all those who want to brush up on their Washington agency knowledge) when I heard the sweet 'ping' of an email arriving in my box. And, there, from "Duncan, Arne" was a message which began, "Dear Colleagues." Ah, yes, to be Arne's newest "colleague." It was almost too much for me...

Check out Arne's "Let's Read, Let's Move" campaign if you want to see him in action!

So, there you have it. Another 102 degree day in DC. Some hyperlinks as per requested. And, many thanks, once again, for all your kind words & comments. I miss you.

Hot Rollers Take Center Stage

After the hair debacle of yesterday, I had a new game plan for Day #2 at the Office of Special Education (OSEP) - hot rollers! I woke up to another scorcher of a day feeling confident that all would go well because (1) I knew where to go (as contrasted with yesterday when I went to the wrong building first and had to sprint to the second DOE building) and (2) I had confidence that my hair would look better - really, could it look any worse?

And, again, standing in my air conditioned apartment my hair had bouncy curls with superstar quality tucked behind my cheap sunglasses. Alas, I had to walk outside and slowly the curls turned to frizz. (For those of you interested, I bought a new product from CVS tonight that should combat this problem.) By the time I arrived at work, it was hopeless. The question that perplexes me on my entire walk/ride to work is, "How do these Washingtonians not sweat and/or keep their hair looking fabulous?" I ponder this question for the 1/2 hour commute each way and have no answer.

Enough about the hair - there was no Arne Duncan today either. I smile every time someone mentions his name as in, "Arne is speaking at that conference," or "I'll call Arne and listen to his thoughts about blah, blah." A first name basis with Arne?!?! What?

I happily flashed my government ID badge and buzzed myself into the DOE. (I find it rather fascinating - dare I say, cool, - that I pass the Department of Homeland Security on my way to work. The buildings are adjacent.) I conjure up stories about the workers coming & going from that office - What do they do? What do they know? Am I safe being so close to that building?

As for my daily routine at OSEP - as funny as it sounds - I can't share much. Most of the work is confidential. And, while I imagine none of you are particularly interested in the legislation/proposals for the reauthorization of IDEA, my lips are sealed (and I know nothing anyway). I did sit in on a meeting of the entire OSEP staff - most of their speak is in Special Education code - the secret, "members-only" acronym name-dropping - the FAPE, the 1% Assessments, the ISE. I admit, I zoned out for a few minutes. Much of the afternoon included me reading about adaptive physical education and surfing the CEC website. Honestly, it's not important - skim right over the alphabet soup...

The kicker of my day was the 2 mile trek in the heat to Whole Foods and the absurd conversation I had with the produce man there. Let me just be honest - I sweat in DC! I don't glow or perspire or have a glistening golden hue - huge drops of water fall from my face. But, I need peppers for my salad - organic peppers. And, yes, I'm willing to walk the 1 mile from Metro Center to the Whole Foods & the 1 mile home to Dupont Circle for some organic peppers. Do you think there were organic peppers at Whole Foods today? Exactly. Not so much.

So, me and the produce man have this ridiculous conversation that begins with me asking him about organic peppers - seeing as how I'd already walked with my two reusable-cotton bags, bumping into all the other bag ladies/gentlemen (DC charges 5 cents for every plastic bag you use) searching for my peppers. He explains to me that there are no organic peppers. My response, "What? This is WHOLE FOODS! If Whole Foods doesn't have organic peppers, who does?" I then, of course, need to tell him about my journey to Whole Foods - the crowded subway, the heat, my hair! He laughs. I leave. Not without buying regular peppers covered in pesticides that will surely be toxic to my body.

There is something incredibly frustrating about walking 1 mile, in the heat, back home with pesticide-infected peppers!

Tomorrow - it's hot rollers with the new curling spray and another day of hoping that Arne stops by.

The Hottest Day of the Summer

Because, really, it always comes back to my hair. And, my hair looked horrendous today - no, wait, it was perfectly straight and parted for the few minutes I stood in my air conditioned apartment - then it became an ever-expanding, humidity-absorbing sponge of ridiculousness. And, on the first day of a new internship, you can't just start telling your supervisor or the incredibly talented and well-educated staff that it is difficult for you to focus on them or their fascinating work advocating for children with special needs because your hair is a mess - but, for any of you who have spent more than five minutes with me, you know, it's all about the hair.

Truth be told, instead of naming this blog "Always Becoming," I should have named it "Kerry's Daily Hair Updates" because, really, that's all that I'm focused on anyway.

A close second to my daily hair updates would be my proximity to Arne Duncan - who I must meet by the end of these six weeks! Today, I was in his building - saw his name & office location next to the elevator, but there was no chance meeting in the elevator. Believe me, I visualized the entire scene. But, no dice. Instead, I smiled underneath his gigantic, framed, colored photograph hanging beside President Obama & VP Biden. As a totally unrelated side note, my colleague and I decided that, hands down, Biden has the most genuine smile.

There isn't much to say - today was the hottest day of the year, I walked many miles - lost - between the two Department of Education buildings, I had forgotten how crowded a subway can be at 5pm, I headed home in the wrong direction defeated by the heat & crowd, I thought it appropriate to watch the Food Network cake-baking challenge instead of fixing a proper meal, and I started this blog this evening.