Proud to be an American

Guys, I've been up to a lot of shenanigans recently, and they have made me feel oh so American!

Last friday I went on a hot date with a boy known among my close friends as Cupid Baby Angelface (or some other variation of those words). We walked through the perpetually cherry blossom-lined streets near the famous Eastern Market and found ourselves at Ted's Bulletin, a hip and happening DC eatery famous for their homemade Pop Tarts. (What's more American than a pop tart, am I right?)

We ordered two pop tarts: blueberry cheesecake, and peanut butter bacon. The former because it sounded delicious, the latter because it exists. Also we were dying of curiosity. The verdict? Blueberry cheesecake was divine. Also their pop tart crust (or whatever you might call it) is amazing. Also, bacon and peanut butter go together better than I would have expected. But still not well enough to be worth eating.

We ate our pop tarts as we made our way to the DC Nationals baseball stadium, and I attended my second ever pro baseball game. (The first was the Dodgers, in Dodger stadium, so that was awesome) There's something about baseball games that makes you feel American. Is it the national anthem? The complete diversity of the fans? The beer? The jumbotron? The hot dogs? The fact that it's the great American sport? The perfect combination of all of the above? I don't have an answer for you. All I know is that as I sat there, surrounded by cheering fans of all ages and walks of life, as the rain fell on my head and the Nationals played the Padres under the bright stadium lights, I felt like one happy American.

Saturday morning I woke up at 5:30 am, I'm not sure why, and was about to return to the warm embrace of my pillow when the novel thought entered my brain, why not just stay up? So I did. Just to shake things up. I watched the sunrise from my couch as I read a book. I got on a bus to Old Town and walked to the pier, where I sat on a bench and enjoyed the perfection of that moment. The Potomac river flowed calmly past, while the boats bumped gently against the pier. The sun warmed my head as I watched some fearless little birds compete to see who could get the closest to my feet. I headed back into town and meandered through the farmer's market.

Saturday afternoon two of my Virginia besties and I hopped in a car and drove to Shenandoah National Park. The drive reminded me of road trips with my family. I was happily comfortable, I read The Happiness Project out loud to Ashley while Joel dozed in the back seat. The drive to Shenandoah is beyond beautiful. I tried to describe it to my hot doctor friend Brian, and all I could say was that it "looked like America!" There were rolling hills, open fields, barns, adorable houses with big front porches and rocking chairs, trees in bloom, mountains off in the distance... All I can say is that it lived up to everything I ever associated with the name Shenandoah.

We intended to hike to a waterfall, but after several wrong turns, some off-roading, and some trigger-happy farmer run-ins (slight exaggeration), we ended up just driving through the national park and stopping at every lookout to take pictures and hike around. We got some pretty epic pics, including me doing some modeling poses on a rock (I know how much you all love those!), doing handstands, jumping off walls, and Shenandoah being beautiful without even trying. I promise to share said pics once I finagle them from Ashley. The above ones are stolen from the internet. Don't sue me, internet. 

The day was overwhelmingly wonderful, and after driving for hours and absorbing more nature than my eyes could handle (I've gone soft, being away from Utah..), we topped it all off with good old KFC. Also some research into the last meals of death row victims. You should look those up, it's actually an interesting topic. 

And then I came home and was asleep by ten. 

Also, side note, I was in my swimming suit all day, because of the promise to hike to and jump in a waterfall, which we never did. Talk about a wedgie. 

It's good to be an American.