An in-town (and fabulous) Fourth

You hear the jokes all the time, about how men revert to "frat boy living," living in filth and subsisting on cold pizza, while their wives are out of town. And yet, Seth's out of town (allegedly golfing but most likely just drinking beer at the Army Football Club's annual golf tournament at West Point) and last night found me sitting in front of the TV in my underwear, dining on frozen yogurt and ignoring two loads of unfolded laundry. I shamelessly blamed the baby, but reflected that perhaps that's not a gender-specific rule of thumb.

But I skipped all the good stuff. Last weekend was the fourth of July! One of my very favorite holidays. Maybe my favorite. And for once we were home, having decided that our usual whirlwind schedule plus the upcoming golf tournament and Alaska trip demanded that we stick around. (Also, Seth wanted to shoot an NRA match at Quantico.) I was a little bummed, since the only thing more sacred to me than America's birthday is the principle of squeezing every last second out of a long weekend (usually by going somewhere fabulous), but as usual things worked out just as they were supposed to, and it was a lovely, much-needed "rest in place" weekend. We spent all day on the fourth at home, making homemade apple pie (me, in observance of a Walters family tradition) and smoking all sorts of meats. Seth even busted out the turkey frier.

We also finally pulled out the new (super nice) croquet set from Mom and Dad (also a Walters holiday tradition.) Guess who won his first croquet game?

Neither of us really wanted to fight traffic and crowds to see the DC fireworks, but it's a "must-do while you live here" thing, so we dragged outselves to Fort Myer, which turned out to be a genius plan. We had prime seating (a spot reserved for us on the lawn by MG Thomas, pursuant to- apparently- a hilarious local custom of all the generals on Fort Myer being ordered to save seats on the field by their wives). The view looking down over the National Mall was magnificent, if impossible to justify with photos.

The rest of the weekend was just as nice. Saturday Seth had to go register for the shooting match, so we went exploring down south, and finally checked out Prince William Forest Park, a terrific- if hilly- place for a bike ride. We also discovered an amazing Belgian place (named, unfortunately, "Cock and Bowl," in historic Occoquan on the way back.) They had Delirium! And real Belgian pommes frites.

We decided that lead and loud noises might not be terrific for family members weighing only about a pound, so while Seth spent the rest of the weekend shooting his match, Baby Nieman and I embarked on our own adventures. Sunday we went hiking in Shenandoah with Mom & Dad, and Monday found us paddleboarding on the Chesapeake Bay. The baby was a real trooper (a love of fresh air and exercise seems to be a genetic trait), and I remain grateful that she lets me get out and stay active at almost six months! (And has begun kicking to let me know when she's hungry. Possibly also attributable to genetics.)

Monday night before we headed back to work, Seth and I even got in another dinner date- this time in Baltimore after he had gotten a little taste of my daily commute, missing Aaron's birthday cocktails entirely thanks to horrendous traffic. I, on the other hand, made it on time but smelled like baywater, having taken a little spill on the paddleboarding adventure. The Alexanders were probably thrilled. The veggie wrap at Nick's Fish House- go figure- left a little to be desired, but the view was phenomenal, and we toasted the sunset and Independence Day and well-spent weekends at home from the deck.

I realize that this makes us seem a little food-obsessed, but the photo of the week is our plate after we devoured our Belgian waffle Saturday, because it made me laugh. The waffle (turtle, meaning drowning in caramel and chocolate and whipped cream, thanks to Seth) obviously didn't suck.