(The Lovely Aimee and Annook’s Revenge. Photo Socotra of Socotra.)
I had lost one cuff link and the black tie by the time I got to Willow. I have no idea about either. I do not think I wrecked the Hubrismobile- I assume it is in the garage and there were no public safety personnel in the unit when I got up- but the tie and the cufflink were mysteries.
I probably need to back up a little. I was pretty much done with the whole birthday thing by the time I got to the office. I didn’t mind that the boys didn’t remember, sincerely, and this round number had me a little weirded out
Kristi at the office said “It’s the new forty” and having heard that couple times during the morning I decided that maybe that’s right and maybe that’s wrong, but I gotta tell you, I would gladly turn 60 a lot more often if it was like this every time.
My Co-conspirator was off working at an alternate location, so the office was fairly quiet and I actually got some stuff done. All other things being equal, and being a creature of habit, I would have finished things up and then gone to Willow. The fact that the William Oliver Baker Award Dinner was that night was a game changer.
Black tie at the Ritz-Carlton out in Tysons presented several challenges, the first being to organize the formal garb and the second the actual navigation thing to Fairfax at rush hour. I-66 was closed to anything but HOV traffic, so it would be a pain in the butt arcing through the construction.
Cocktails were to start at six and go on for a couple hours- that was a recipe for either great fun or great danger, and I thought about that as I sat in traffic, first on 50 Westbound and then later in the snaggle that is today’s Tysons Corner.
If you have not been out there lately, it appears that the entire content of the stimulus bill has been poured in concrete make-work construction. The Metro extension with new overpasses and stations has transformed the landscape, and between the cranes and Jersey barriers, it is terra incognita.
I was about a half hour late, and the fifth floor reception room was jammed with active duty people in mess dress, striking women in high fashion, and battalions of penguins dressed like me.
Did I mention it was an open bar? I think I commented on that to lovely Ellen, who is the Chair of the professional association that confers the William O. Baker award on the most worthy member of the Intelligence Community for the annual cycle.
This year the honoree was Mike McConnell, for whom I worked twice, and the man who taught our rag-tag little band of young Turks how to do critical thinking about Soviet submarine operations and the prospect of sudden nuclear holocaust. Previous winners of the award included Bob Gates, Jim Clapper, Joan Dempsey, Bill Studeman and Charlie Allen, among others, and except for the retiring SECDEF, everyone was there.
I talked to a couple staff directors of the House Intel Committee four former Directors of Naval Intelligence, three former Directors of DIA, two Directors of National Intelligence and I do not know when the tie disappeared and the cuff-link failed.
(Jake, Bill, Rich and Tom. A walking history of Naval Intelligence. Photo Socotra.)
It was a glittering affair, and with so many old pals, rivals and erstwhile enemies in the room, it was a full-on regular hoot. Jake had a table and a great time was being had by all.
I think. But I am getting head of myself. While the sun was declining, there were things happening in The Little Village By the Bay. I saw some of it in spurts that appeared on my smart phone:
“Annook was bagging countless drawers of countless items. The stone floor was being laid in the laundry room. The painters were finishing in the kitchen. The carpenters said they would board up the newly found Raccoon apartment under the eve outside the roof.
Young Carpenter came and told Annook she needed to go outside. Annook hated it when people told her she had to go outside because it usually meant there was something else to add to the chore list. Annook went out the front door.
“Apparently you still have a baby up in the eve. See his little head? I heard him crying.”
“Damn. Well, Mama is gone, and I assumed the plumber guy had come on Wednesday evening and gotten her and the babies into the live trap. Can you call him?”
(The Raccoon habitat. Photo Annook.)
Young Carpenter told her he would. Annook left to go to the dry cleaner with aging curtains and stop by the Good Will with more bags and boxes. Annook head over to Independence Village to get Raven and Big Mama to head down the road for a field trip and lunch.
Raven was doing very well this day. He was talking in full sentences. He looked like he was having a great day. Annook got her mother on the phone with Son #1 who was celebrating his 60th birthday. After Big Mama gave her back the phone, Annook put the phone next to Raven’s ear and told him to say happy birthday. When Raven heard his son’s voice he went bananas. He had a full conversation with the birthday boy.
When Annook got back to the house she got the full raccoon report. The live trap had been put behind the bushes. No one at the house was aware that mama raccoon was trapped back there. The babies were calling to their mama. The carpenters had called someone from wildlife as well as the plumber. The wildlife guy got there two minutes before the plumber.
As soon as they opened the trap 5-baby raccoons scrambled to be with mom. Annook didn’t quite get who took the raccoons – but the whole family left the property and the raccoon apartment was vacated. Annook didn’t quite get why the plumber who set the trap had left and not checked out the results since Wednesday evening.
“Five baby raccoons? Wow.”
“Yeah, it was something.”
Annook was glad this happened when someone was at the house.
Big Mama and Annook and family had put in place surprises to occur long distance. Annook is really hoping that the surprises are received before midnight. As of this writing the surprises were only witnessed by the supporting cast of merry makers.”
It was that last part that had me mystified. I looked over at John- he has an H in it, just like WASP John at Willow. “The speeches haven’t even started. I need to stop at Willow. I promised.”
“Then let’s get out of here. I want to get to Ramparts. Speaker Boehner might be there and I want to give him a piece of my mind.”
Navy John did not have a car, for reasons that were never clear to me, so we stole away before the oratory commenced, but not before we managed to talk to the last two Honorees and their lively wives.
(The McConnells and the Clappers. Photo Socotra.)
The vast parking structure was void of activity and we beat the rush. I do not believe I wrecked the car, though will have to check later this morning, and we arrived at Willow in splendid fashion with the top down. I think.
Anyway, the evening dinner rush had subsided and Kate and Tracy were holding court at one of the tables outside. We stopped to chat, and then walked into the bar. Old Jim was there, and Elisabeth with an S, and Big Jim, Jon-no-H, and Aimee.
Something was up.
“What do you think, Birthday Boy?” said Aimee, gesturing up.
“Well I’ll be God-damned,” I said. Annook had done me, but good.
Old Jim finished his long-neck Bud and slammed it down on the bar. “Bout freaking time you got here,” he said. “And you probably are.”
And damned if Annook didn’t get one of Kate’s signature cakes, too. And that, my friends, was just the icing.
(Navy John, Vic and Jon. Photo Elisabeth-with-an-S.)
Copyright 2011 Annook and Vic Socotra