Th’ Gaussling is presently watching Bill Maher on HBO in a so-so hotel a mile or so north of the White House in DC.  Richard Dawkins is bantering with Maher pointing out that we’re all African. Meanwhile a chinese food menu slides under the door and helicopers buzz annoyingly overhead. The urgent piping of ambulance sirens bounces off the concrete and glass canyons of the city while the Doppler shifted timbre of the sirens gives a hint of movement.  It reminds me of what a different experience you can have just sitting somewhere else. At home this time of night I can hear the clamorous yapping of coyote pups a few hundred yards in the distance.

I’m in DC for a workshop. It’s not intensely thrilling, admittedly. But I do some volunteer work for the ACS and once in a great while you have to make the pilgrimage to learn the secret handshakes and be fitted for special utility undergarments all ACS volunteers must wear. OK, I’m kidding about the handshakes.

Switching planes in Charlotte, NC, I was pleased to see an encouraging thing in the airport terminal. Along the windows of the food court there were white wooden rocking chairs occupied by travelers rocking away blissfully.

White House

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