I want to see Ben Stiller’s “Walter Mitty” movie, I fell instantly in love with the James Thurber short story when I first read it, but the movie reviews have been lackluster, so I’ll wait for the DVD. A friend of mine was touring Iceland when the movie was in production there. He met one of Mr. Stiller’s personal assistants, who told him, “You would think that working for Ben would be glamorous and fun? You would be wrong.” Today was sort of a Walter Mitty day, not that I ever imagined myself a hero, but we did visit some varied and exotic climes, as varied and exotic as you can get within 25 miles of home. Today, we photo safaried from the tropics to the arctic.

“We’re going through!” The Commander’s voice was like thin ice breaking.

It was cold this morning, when we drove to the gardens. Workmen were busily taking down last year’s holiday lights. We walked around a bit, but since the exterior garden was completely asleep and it was freaking cold out, we ducked into the Mediterranean House. In winter, this route makes for a good halfway house to the Climatron. If you dive right into the jungle, your cold lenses will fog interminably. Eventually, Anne began pantomiming, “Feed me, Seymour!” So, before any bloodletting began, we decamped to the City Diner. On our way out of the Climatron, I overheard a mother of small children announce brightly, “This air will help breakup all of our coughs!” The last thing that I need in the middle of this flu season is to contract a tropical disease.

“Puppy biscuit,” said Walter Mitty.

At brunch, we planned our afternoon, the rest of the weekend and Anne’s spring break. I wanted to go to the Pulitzer next to see their new show, but Anne, seeing the Post’s front page, suggested eagle watching. I was fine with that. On the way up to the Riverlands, it began to snow and then it began to stick. We almost wimped out and turned around, but that wouldn’t have been very Walter Mitty. We saw Bald eagles, Trumpeter swans, Golden Eyes, Great Blue herons, American White pelicans and seagulls. The pelicans and seagulls congregate around the Mel Price lock and dam. When the fish come squirting through that lock’s coffer dams they get a little stunned and then make easy pickings. Dusk was hurried by incoming weather and we then beat a hasty retreat.

“To hell with the handkerchief,” said Walter Mitty scornfully.

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