We arrived at the home of Jordan and Patrick Ware in Falls Church, VA on Monday late afternoon. Thankful to unload and unwind a bit, we stayed for 2 days. Jordan is my cousin, and I have enjoyed getting to have the second chance at knowing one another as adults, since our insecurities clashed some as kids. Our stay in their home was one of ease, with no pretensions. Children run about freely at play and if you want something, you help yourself. Mi casa e su casa style. I like this version of hospitality, because it feels most like my own home.

David continued to recover, and I stayed focused on having a health-filled tour, taking walks and runs. We connected with Holly, an old college friend of mine and Kristin, a newer friend who has also lost over 100 pounds. On Wednesday morning, I was driving to meet Kristin for a run on the Washington and Old Dominion Trail, and I got pulled over in the little downtown area of Falls Church. I was actually more focused on being lost than what speed I was going, and I had no clue what the speed limit was at that point. Apparently I was going 43 in a 25, so I was indeed a glutton for punishment. The young policeman told me of the crime I had committed and I, having no excuse whatsoever, admitted that I was paying more attention to being lost than the speed limit and that I was sorry. Tail between my legs, I gave him my license and registration.

This is where it got kind of bizarre. After he took my info, he asked if the address on my license was correct. I paused for a moment, told him that we had moved and rattled off our new address. He repeated it back to me, but like a question. I recited it again and all the while he was looking at me sideways and indicating suspicion. He again repeated it back to me, with a question mark at the end, and like a good girl, I repeated it to him yet again ver-y clear-ly this time a-round. Seeming not at all satisfied, he told me to stay in my vehicle and walked back to his squad car. I sat there thinking about how much we couldn't afford a ticket on this tour, and kicking myself for being lost and oblivious to the speed limit in the first place.

Upon returning, to my relief he informed me that he was only issuing me a warning for the speeding violation. He was however giving me a $25 ticket for a "defective equipment" charge because of my cracked windshield. He still seemed to be treating me suspiciously, but I thought maybe that was just his driver-side manner. Thinking to myself that I made out like a bandit and that this would soon be over and I could finally drive (slowly) away to meet Kristin, I waded through the formalities with the officer. After signing the form about the ticket, he hands everything back to me except my license. He then asks me, "Ma'am how long ago did you get this license?" I had to stop and think, and as I was forming the words, "I got the license on my birthday last year…" a large cartoon light-bulb lit up above my head. As he was still eyeing me like a felon-at-large, I smiled and said, "Oooohh, I've lost a hundred pounds this year!" For the first time during our exchange, his face relaxed, and he replied in a bit of a gently admonishing tone, "Ma'am, this picture looks nothing like you." I drove away like a skinny bandit.