Georgetown and Slim Jim

The entire week I have been looking forward to today because of the gorgeous spring-like weather it promised. Who could ever imagine "66 degrees and sunny" in February? February! Last year, in New Jersey our basement door was still frozen shut since the concrete underneath of it expanded and froze it in place. The year before that, in Jersey, we were still ice-picking our way out of glaciers. So to hear that this year we would be celebrating the last weekend of February with 66 degrees and SUN was music to my ears. We decided to go to Georgetown for mass and enjoy the beautiful town on a beautiful day.

Georgetown was the land of the Nacotchtank Indians before 1608 when the Europeans arrived (and killed them). 1608! Many of the towns in Italy are centuries older than that. I always wonder what the cumulative history of the US holds before Europeans arrived. Not much is known about them. But what is known is that they were a strong fur-trading community. Many other Indigenous tribes would travel to the Nacotchtank to make use of the Potomac river, meet and trade goods. The primary trade of the Nacotchtank were fur pelts.  Their location and access to the river made them a prime target to get rid of. Luckily for the British, the Nacotchtank didn't have immunity to many of the diseases British carried and 75% died as a result. This made kicking the remaining out much easier. 

Since then, George Washington feasted in Georgetown (not named for him, rather named after King George II), and many pretty houses were built, then an Irish priest came over and built Georgetown University, which almost flopped at the beginning (Catholics were not welcome in this country) but then did well. Today Georgetown is prep-central. You can't find a waspier more highbrow area than this in the US. It is gorgeous, the streets are sweet and adorable like a cupcake: the houses are a tadbit too small but all so oh-very-cute! Like a cupcake you know it would be more practical if it were bigger but seeing them small is just too cute to pass up. On the downside: the prices are for the mega-rich and if you are the wrong skin tone it will be impossible to fit in (unless you are a millionaire, which everyone likes). Cupcakes only here, if you are a churro or zeppole it might be tough.

In any case, I adore Georgetown. It is impossible not to fall in love with it because Georgetown is perfect in every season, and the Georgetowners are all quiet and polite. I feel like I should take etiquette lessons from a Georgetowner since they seem to keep it all together, buttoned up and polite. Gosh. Here are some pictures from our stroll today:

Mr. Sun, Sun, Mr. Golden Sun shine down on me!

woof!

Georgetown University. Founded by Jesuit friars. 

This is  my house. Welcome.

Fatty and Bentley

This is my other house. Shall we have tea?

This is my Georgetown cat. His name is George. Don't tell Bentely.

Good bye, George!

The National Cathedral. It is not Catholic, can you believe it? How dare they replicate Notre Dame?!

I love the fat angel

Oh! My other house! I almost forgot I had another one. This is my July  house where you can come over to sip iced tea and pink lemonade.

A stack of dirty snow as a reminder of the blizzard.

3/4 length sleeves :) Anne Shirley would approve.

A garden my mom would have designed

What do these do?

Such a nice day! Everyone was tossing off their coat and enjoying the sun at the gas station.

Slim Jim

In cat news: Fatness got sick. I just finished reading "Senior Cats" and he got sick. I am never getting a sick cat book from the library again. Never! It brings bad luck. Thankfully not too bad: two days ago we ran out of the normal cat food for Seniors and all I had left was a bag of diet food for Fat cats. He refused to eat it and decided to be called Slim Jim. He sneezed, he rolled, he refused to come out of the basement for days. I couldn't figure out why. I had been mixing his old-man food with diet food and he was fine! Why couldn't he eat just the diet food? Anyway, this morning he looked downright miserable with a runny nose and I knew then, at 7:30 in the morning, that if I wanted to avoid a very sick cat that he needed his old man food fast. I am by no means a morning person. I like to think of myself like Coco Chanel who wouldn't go to work till noon. But there I was, Sunday morning at the Giant getting Iams for Seniors at 8:30 Am. I put my  nicest wool rug in the sun and left the Fat one there roasting his cold away while we went out.  Twelve hours later, we have a recovered Fatty. Since returning from Georgetown we have noted the Fat one dashing up and down the stairs, no more runny nose in sight. 

Bentley knows how to keep a cold away.

My poor fat monster.