The National Gallery of Portraiture

Today a bunch of us went over to Chinatown and visited the Smithsonian National Gallery of Portraiture. The gallery itself was pretty cool with a whole section dedicated to former American Presidents. There are also portraits of Joseph Smith and Brigham Young. There’s even the notorious portrait of Stephen Colbert right outside the restrooms.

(Soap Box moment: It was pretty sad to see a huge portrait of George Washington on one wall and Colbert’s on the other wall and to see the huge line to get a picture taken with Colbert’s portrait and people just rushing past George Washington’s. Our obsession with pop culture is understandable, but a little sad.)

But I had trouble enjoying the gallery because I spent the entire time with one thought on my mind.

Portraiture is not a word.

Now before all you readers get in a huff and start posting comments about how I’m mistaken and portraiture is in fact a word, let me say this: of course I know it’s actually a word (I know that because when I type it into Microsoft Word, it doesn’t underline it with a red squiggly line). The point I’m trying to make is that in the English language there are too many words that someone has decided should be words.

Who was that, by the way? Who in history got to have the coolest job ever and make up words?

Anyway, I’m just saying that when you use the word portraiture, you sound ridiculous, and I just expected more from the Smithsonian Institute.

Of course there was also the strange statue of a cowboy on a blue horse out front. That was a little bizarre.

The Haircut

“Oh, you want summer cut?”

If you are ever getting your hair cut and you are asked this question in broken English, run. Get out of the chair immediately. Don’t even take the time to remove the backwards cape thingy.

Just run.

I don’t want to talk about it too much because it’s still a sore subject. The short story is that I thought she understood what I was trying to explain, but I quickly found out there must have been a misunderstanding because she proceeded to take her razor and completely shave my head. I audibly gasped after she first ran the razor over the top of my head. She asked me if anything was wrong and I just sat there. Obviously at that point there was nothing I could do but cry, so she just kept shaving.

I personally think I look ridiculous with hair this short but I just have to realize it will grow back eventually. Since there’s nothing I can do but wait for it to grow back, I’ve decided I need to look at all the blessings that come with this:

1. I won’t have to pay for a haircut for the rest of this year.

2. I now get to show off my new beanie for the next month or two (hopefully they don’t mind me wearing it to work).

3. It kind of brings back childhood memories because I haven’t had my hair this short since I was in third grade (that’s a good story too. It involves a Mohawk and my brother’s wedding).

4. I don’t have to worry about paying for dates because no self-respecting girl is going to say yes if I ask her out.

The list could go on, but I think I’ll end there. So just remember, trying to explain what you want doesn’t always work.

Just run.

Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Day

For Family Home Evening tonight we went to the Lincoln Memorial and stood on the spot where Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. gave his famous “I Have a Dream” speech. We stood there in a circle and read those inspired words out loud. It was such a cool experience.

I looked down over the reflecting pool back to the Washington Monument and imagined it full of people. I imagined what it would have been like to be there on that hot August day. Did the people there realize how historic that moment was? I’ll bet the excitement in the air was contagious.

It was just such a neat experience. I can’t imagine a better way for me to spend Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Day. I just hope his words live on today. I hope the patience, tolerance and love he spoke about will stay with us and convince us that we can change the world we live in and make it a better place to live. As cliché and idealistic as that sounds, I honestly believe it to be true.

The National Postal Museum

Today was Martin Luther King, Jr. day and so all of us Utah interns decided to get together and take a trip to Baltimore. Not that exciting I know, but none of us have ever been and it’s just a short train ride away. So we woke up, got ready, trekked down to Union Station and lo and behold…the train we wanted to take is a commuter train and it doesn’t run on holidays.

So there we were in downtown D.C. with a whole day that just became unplanned. Many amateur tourists would have felt overwhelmed, but not us. We knew exactly where to spend our day…at the National Postal Museum!

Now, I know what you’re thinking.

“The National Postal Museum sounds so boring. There can’t possibly be enough stuff about the Postal Service to fill an entire museum.”

Well, I didn’t believe it either, until I saw it with my own eyes. There was a mailbox painted to look like R2D2 and a big truck you could climb in and pretend to drive. There was a big statue of Benjamin Franklin (because of his obvious involvement with the Postal Service) and there was a carriage you could climb in and pretend to deliver mail.



I imagine the National Postal Museum to be the Mecca for postal workers everywhere.

There were displays documenting the entire history of the Postal Service and at the end there was a kiosk where you could print out a postcard and mail it, right there. I imagine people writing all sorts of things to their relatives back home just making them burn with jealousy.

“Wish you were here…”

“I went to the National Postal Museum and all I got was this lousy postcard.”

“My love for you is like this museum, it never ends.”

So to those brave souls who visit me with bills and junk mail through rain, snow, or fog, I salute you.

D.C. Memorials

I don’t start work until tomorrow but all my roommates started today so I decided to take the opportunity and do a bunch of touristy things. I started the day by going up the Washington Monument. It was my first time doing that so it was really neat to look down over the whole city.

After that, I walked along the reflection pool stopping at the WWII Memorial, the 56 Signers of the Declaration of Independence Memorial, the Vietnam War Memorial, the Lincoln Memorial, and the Korean War Memorial. I love all of the memorials; they are so powerful and impactful. It really brings it home to me, walking along the Vietnam Memorial and looking at the endless list of names and then thinking about how each name represents a life, a family, hopes, dreams, fears, a life cut short. Standing at the feet of the statue of Abraham Lincoln, thinking what an amazing man he must have been and then reading his Second Inaugural Address engraved in the wall.

“With malice toward none with charity for all
with firmness in the right as God gives us to see the right…”



It is probably my favorite political speech because of the focus on healing and reconciliation. The surprise to me was how touched I was by the Korean War Memorial. I don’t know much about the Korean War, just the basics. But I imagine that there were a lot of people fighting in the war who felt the same way. There is this powerful statement engraved into the ground at the memorial:

“Our nation honors her sons and daughters
who answered the call to defend a country
they never knew and a people they never met”

I can’t even begin to imagine the fear, anger and frustration that our armed forces might have felt. But I can begin to imagine the confusion because here we are over 50 years later and I still don’t fully comprehend. The part that brings it home to me is engraved in big bold letters, “Freedom is not Free.” I think a lot of us forget that. I know I do.

In the afternoon, I toured the Library of Congress and the Supreme Court building. They are such impressive buildings each with its own personal set of stories and fascinating history.

I already love living in D.C. Being so close to this much history is a phenomenal experience. To be able to just take a short walk and be among monuments to so many amazing individuals, I just count myself lucky to be here and I pray that I won’t lose my excitement and enthusiasm.

Grocery Shopping...D.C. Style

After moving into my new D.C. apartment, it was time to do the obligatory first grocery shopping trip. You know, the trip where you stock up on sandwich making supplies, toilet paper, paper towels, Top Raman, etc. Well, the closest grocery store to our apartment is about a mile away. My roommates and I considered taking the bus for a second until we realized the apartment building we live in rents out an old Costco shopping cart (pictured below). I have no idea why or how the apartment building acquired such an item, but boy am I glad they did. If you haven't pushed a shopping cart along a busy highway in a big city, you haven't lived, or you are the proud owner of a car. I especially enjoyed all the great looks people gave us as they drove passed in their high class BMWs and Mercedes. As we were pushing the cart back to the apartment overflowing with almost $200 in groceries, a lady informed us that she was calling the shopping cart police. I was scared for a minute, but we easily outran them. I think we may have made some bums jealous as we walked under the overpass. But after all the cart pushing, I feel ready to go on that old TV show "Shop Till You Drop." Once you've pushed a full cart of groceries across a vacant lot of dirt and grass, those smooth aisles at a grocery store are cake.

Sometimes When You Dream...

I've talked about it for years.

I've dreamt about it for even longer.

I was never sure it would really happen.

But now I stand on the precipice.

Time to take a step into the unknown.