The Burrow

Back in 2014, and not without controversy,  Maria Shriver worked with Marriott to encourage hotel guests to leave a small gratuity for the housekeepers , on the theory that you interact with them as you do with the bellman or the doorman or the concierge, all of whom you tip without question.  Some said Marriott was asking the guest to pay the maids, but I disagreed.  I never thought the point was solely financial; I always included a Thank You!  with my money on the bedspread.   TBG and I left a happy, grateful note for a lovely room and a five dollar bill atop one of the four pillows on the bed, smiled at the housekeeper as we assured her that we were finished and the room was hers to with as she wished, and went on to friends and family and museums and food.  We brought them all back to our room to rest before driving to dinner.  As they sorted themselves out on arm chairs and desk chairs and walker seats TBG and I stood in amazement. ...

There were more pictures from our visit to the Portrait Gallery than fit comfortably in  one post . One of them is this view from our hotel room, kitty-corner across the street. The museum is unusual in The District; it stays open until 7pm.  Intrepid Cat tells me that it is a popular meeting spot for 20-somethings after the rest of the Smithsonians have closed, and it is true that the atrium under that white dome stuck on top of the otherwise elegant if stolid building was filled with her age-mates when TBG and I wandered through at dinner time.   It's an absolutely beautiful building, at one time the largest open public space in the city.  There are galleries and mezzanines and winding staircases of all dimensions and construction.  Marble and polished wood, stained glass in the windows, lintels and frames carved with love.   Even the doorknobs were special. Coming up and then coming down, we smiled at this lovely sight. It was a ...

Typing that title, I remember standing at the blackboard (in the dark ages, before white boards were replaced by smart boards) and arguing with the teacher that traveling had 2 L's, not one.  I was fairly adamant about it, as was she.  Richard Levine opened the dictionary and told us that we were both correct as I watched the teacher shake her head and erase my extraneous (in her eyes, at least) L.  She was the teacher, she was in charge, what did we know, anyway?  Fifth grade was a hard year. Travel(l)ing with a leg and a half is hard, too.  Brother and 2 of the 3 women in his life took me to the National Zoo on Friday morning.  It was 60 and sunny in DC; the rain clouds were gone by the time we met up at my hotel and it was a glorious day for a walk.  By the time we got to the end of the hotel's approach road (it was much too long to be called a driveway) I was exhausted.  We piled into a taxi to save my hip for the hippos.  $10 to...