We had our first houseguests at our new apartment, Jen�s Aunt Phyllis, Ann, and Boomer, their shitzu.

A tropical storm raged down on us all week and finally let up, leaving us with clear skies for the baseball game. The Nats took down the Diamondbacks.

Baseball, where are the fans? I guess we need a new stadium.

The obligatory Capitol shot. It always amazes me how shoddy the Mall�s grass is.

Sunday, we went to the Mall, stopping in at the American History Museum on its last weekend before renovation. It had been a long time since I had been there, probably 7th grade with my Dad and sister. It was truly apparent that this totally random museum needed to be updated. Where else can you see Garland�s ruby shoes, Armstrong�s racing bike, the Fonz�s leather jacket, and our Nations refurbished flag. Most of the exhibits were already torn down, but we did get to see the Swedish Chef, the infamous Muppet that ruined Ward-DuBord as a possible nuptial combination, and Julia Child�s kitchen. Did you know she was in the Office of Strategic Services, the precursor to the CIA, during World War II?

Inspired by Julia, we made our own feast, including Cathy�s famous Zitti and caprice salad with fresh tomatoes form Eastern Market.

Well, here is our baby staring at you with HER big alien-like eyes. If the doctor was a betting man, he said we would make money 90% of the time betting that it is going to be a girl. Unfortunately, or fortunately, our baby is very modest and she would not open her legs to show us her privates. (This is in stark contrast to our dog, Ella, who splays her legs for anyone.)