Parking can be a little vexing. In fact, our car caught a nice little bash on the rear bumper. It was a hit and run but some good citizens saw the whole enchilada and left a note with just the facts ma’am, just the facts. You can’t lose at Matchbox . . . ooohh those onion stringies.

The Sant Ocean Hall is very cool, a big whale dangling from the ceiling in mid-swim, a 30ft squid and smaller exhibits just skim the surface of what’s there to see. This is a good link to see the layout of the gallery and to help plan a visit. Remember out of towners, this is a FREE museum, one of many here in DC.

The Insect Zoo which was closed for many months was oddly untouched when it re-opened. Smaller kids will love it, lot’s of bugs to see and room to roam plus one place to crawl through. Austen held a giant tomato caterpillar (felt like a human finger) and a Madagascan hissing cockroach (didn’t touch it) . . . he/she was a big one.

The Butterfly Pavilion was a disappointment. We’re spoiled from our many trips to Wings of Fancy butterfly show at Brookside Gardens in Wheaton, Md. The BP is really small, plus it does have a cost of $6 bills for the big peeps and $5 for the little ones. We’re members of the Smithsonian so we saved a couple of bucks. My advice, if you live nearby go to Brookside, if you’re in town for a visit . . . eh, skip it. 

Here is a much better use of the butterfly money you just saved. Do not miss the chance to see Deep Sea 3D in the IMAX theater. It runs 41 minutes but it seems shorter. It is mesmerizing and your kids will have fun reaching out to try and catch the baby jellyfish that seem to swim right by you. Johnny Depp and Kate Winslett narrate and the superb Danny Elfman provides the perfect score.

No trip to the mall is complete without a quick ride on the Merry-Go-Round in front of the Smithsonian. I know it won’t be long now before my girls turn their noses up on the idea of being so uncool as to ride the MGR. It never gets old for moi, so they’ll just have to continue to be embarrassed by me.

A few pics from the day in DC.

Linus, “I thought little girls always believed what they were told. I thought little girls were innocent and trusting.”
Sally Brown, “Welcome to the Twentieth Century.”

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Sally Brown, “If you try to hold my hand, I’ll slug you!”

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Lucy Van Pelt, “Bleach! My lips touched dog lips! Bleagh! Poison lips! Bleagh!”

My second favorite “scary” choice is “The Ghost and Mr. Chicken”. Being a huge Don Knotts fan this is right up my wheelhouse. This was the height of his popularity in the 60’s. This was also the first movie I got to see at Oxon Hill Theater by myself! I was only 6, so maybe I wasn’t alone? Oh well, it was plenty scary then and I still love it.

Joan Staley played Don Knotts love interest Alma Parker. Did I mention that Joan appeared in Playboy in November 1958? (Ahem, I uh . . . actually have that issue) And the movie was set in a fictional town in Kansas. Hey my Mom is from Kansas. It’s corny and I love it all the more for it. Netflix that baby, it’s worth it. Of course I own it on DVD, and have several black and white movie stills, some lobby cards and a 6ft high drive-in movie poster I got on Ebay a few years ago for the incredibly low sum of . . . can’t say, my wife reads this thing.

Happy Halloween from TheDadReport!

We all had coats with hoods, all except Mommy. Mommy had on a Polartec that was putting a ShamWow to shame with all the rain it was soaking up. The owner of the farm told us if we wanted to walk out to the patch he’d give us a trash bag to wear. (Cue Austen recoiling in fashion killing horror)

Mommy was the hero, she wore the trash bag over her now sponge-like Polartec. The sight of Mommy in a trash bag suit trudging out to the patch was too much for our 10yr old diva, “I will not be seen walking with Mommy in that.” And with that she stomped off a good 20 feet ahead of the rest of us.

So we straggle into the patch, in the rain, and there we see a bunch of pumpkins that look exactly like the ones already picked back at the main farm building. Hhhhmmm?  . . . let’s see, I could have just bought the exact same pumpkins without getting soaked . . . why am I standing in a field? . . . did I mention the wind picked up and the rain, which is now pouring, is coming down sideways . . . did I mention that? “Hey Dad, over here, (way over here) this is the one I want.” Okay sez I, bending my 3 herniated-disc-surgery- having-old-ass-back down to lift. I take, oh a few (hundred) steps to put said pumpkin prize into the wagon when I hear the following, “Uh, I think I like this one better.” Get the picture?

Of course now Daddy has to slog the three 1-ton pumpkins back to the main building. Funny how that wheelbarrow seemed fairly light on the way out now seemed slightly heavy. Did I mention the rain coming down sideways? At this point the main building seemed to take 2 steps away from every 1 step I took towards it. My neck is so tight from holding up the wheelbarrow that I’m starting to resemble The Incredible Hulk. It’s here, with the sideways rain that Miss 10yr old Fashion Sense knuckles under and says, “Give me that trash bag.” Several hours later (OK, maybe 10 minutes) we were able to finally cover the 300 yards from the patch to the main building. There, I had the pleasure of lifting ALL of the pumpkins once again onto the scales. One more rain soaked slog to the car (did I mention it came down sideways?) to lift the pumpkins yet again and we were done.

Pumpkins selected, hauled, paid for and in the car. We’re all soaked to the bone and we’re looking at at least a 40 minute ride home. Now I DON”T do wet clothes, never had never will. (Cue the embarrassing Dad will do anything music) No wet jeans for me. Next thing anyone knows I’m driving us home sitting in my spanking new Old Navy boxers.

I can’t wait for next year.

Austen, “I heard that the deejay sucks.”
Me, “Uh . . . I don’t think that’s the word you should . . .”
Austen, “Oh, yeah . . . he stinks.”
Me, “Well I’m not sure . . .”
Austen, “Can you believe he played the Hokey Pokey?”
Erin, “If he plays the Hokey Pokey ‘I’d slap him all about’“

Imagine my unmitigated joy when ALL the mini love came flooding back in one big fell swoop. I speak of The Perils of the Lost Jungle miniature golf course in Herndon, Virginia. You can find it at Woody’s Golf Range. It’s a real nice place, hitting range, batting cages and of course the best mini golf going.

Austen near the Mummy's Tomb.

My girls are nuts about The Lost Jungle. You really have to go and play it to see what I’m raving about. Check out a few pics I took on our last visit. The animatronics really separate this place from the run-of-the-mill astroturf lame ass courses that I grew to dislike. There’s a nod to Bogey from The African Queen on one hole, a witch doctor, a pith-helmeted jungle explorer on others. You can walk through a tomb with a mummy laying in it.  Want a pygmy blow dart guy taking a shot at you? check. Want a gator to rise up out of a lagoon to take a chomp at you? check. There’s a tree full of monkeys that have broken into some hooch and are happily swigging away. There’s a cave with bats hanging down from the ceiling. There’s a skeleton stuck in quicksand, a hissing cobra, and much more.

The Mummy at The Perils of the Lost Jungle mini golf

It’s not cheap at $9.25 for adults and $8.00 for kids but hey, it’s fun and it’s outside. Note that you can’t just walk the course with your kids or “share” a putter between two peeps. They’re onto that move, everyone that goes in the jungle pays. Don’t worry, it’s worth it. Sorry I’m late with this review, if you can’t get out there soon, tuck the info away for the spring and summer. Call before you go because they do close the jungle when it gets cold. Now, if I can just hit that ten footer without taking a spear in the ass.

Just about every morning I go to Einstein Bros Bagels to get a bagel and the elixir of the Gods commonly known as Diet Coke. I then stroll into Starbucks next door, sit down, eat and read.

Also just about every day I pass 1, sometimes 4 people asking me for money. I try to discern whether these people really need my help or are just attempting to get money for another purpose. I have no way of being sure. Admittedly I use a flawed system of simply looking at said person, euphemistically called “hobos” by my young daughters.

Again, this is a flawed method, but one of the hobos has a cell phone, thus she don’t rate in my mind. The others wear different clothes every day, are super clean and have shoes, good decent shoes. I know, I know, describing people that way is lazy and uninformed. I’m describing the regulars to contrast with the guy I call “The Einstein Man.” I call him that because he has wild grey hair reminiscent of Albert.

I see The Einstein Man every once in a while. He is completely and utterly filthy. He has no shoes, only rags tied around his feet. He talks to himself. He never asks for anything. The few times I’ve see him he’s invariably digging through trash cans looking for food. Man. That does rate in my book.

So, a few weeks ago I buy him a bagel, take it outside to where he was laying down and give it to him. He said, “Thanks.” I felt pretty decent.

Fast forward to this morning when it all came unraveled. I see him outside, so I buy a bagel and take it outside and set it on the table next to him. He looks at it sideways and says, “No Thanks.”, I said are you sure? He said “Yes.” Here is where I should have listened to him instead of thinking I knew what was best for him: I left the bag on the table and turned to walk away.

I was thinking that maybe if I left it there, he’d take it. He didn’t. He moved with surprising speed, picked it up with his left hand and angrily threw it onto the sidewalk a few steps down from where we were. He said something but I couldn’t make it out. I turned to go back to Einstein, embarrassed and a little mad, a little sad.

I’m at the elixir dispenser when I hear someone knocking on the window. I turn and see The Einstein Man giving me the finger and saying fun stuff like, “Fuck You, Fuck You” Now here’s my second chance to use my brain and again I failed, failed miserably. I started yelling back at him, giving him the finger. So, if you’re a person standing in line at Einstein and didn’t see all that went before it, ALL you see is me yelling at a homeless guy. Nice. Even if you did see the entire scene it doesn’t excuse my actions.

When I go outside he’s still sitting there and says to me, “Someone might hit you with a pipe.” Finally, I made the right move and said nothing. I sat down with some friends. He moved on and was standing near the Metro smoking a cigarette when last seen.

The whole episode was entirely my fault and I really feel bad for aggravating this guy. I was just trying to help.

Austen, “Wow, country music people must really like God, they always sing about him. It’s like they worship God like a . . .”
Me, “A God?”
Austen, “Yeah.”

And now here I am :-)

Anyway, while we’re killing time waiting for the bus Austen asks how the Skins are doing overall this preseason. She watched some of the brutal beatdown last week, a loss to Carolina 47-3. I said we were 3-0 before that. I then uttered something like, “man did we get killed”. And that started a list of variable terms on the Redskins beating.

Me, “slaughtered”
Austen, “liquidated”
Erin, “beat”
Me, “eviscerated”
Austen, “smashed”
Erin, “creamed”
Me, “pureed”
Austen, “all isn’t well”
Erin, “whipped”
Me, “stomped”
Austen, “exposed”
Erin, “crushed”
Me, “blasted”
Austen, “emotionally scarred”
Erin, “crying to their mommies”
Me, “sliced and diced”
Austen, “frappéd”

And then the bus came.