Oliver K. Woodman

If you're paying attention to that little flicker map to your right, you've probably noticed a bunch of photos featuring a little wooden man posing all over DC and NYC.

Contrary to what the Security Guard at the Museum of American History thinks (and I'm being completely serious here), he is Not my new boyfriend. His name is Oliver K. Woodman, and he's a favor for my mother.

You see, Mom's an elementary school librarian, and last year's most popular book was The Journey of Oliver K. Woodman by Darcy Patterson. As a "fun summer project," she decided that she'd take Oliver K. on a little journey to New Mexico, Colorado, Oklahoma (is it just me that hears Gordon McCrae in their head every time they spell that word?), Tennessee, and New York. The doll got to go out west, I had to settle for the Big Apple.

So, there we wereI was(damn me and my big purse), lugging this doll all over New York City, attracting curious stares from natives and tourists alike. No matter how many times we tried to explain, it, frankly didn't make a whole lot of sense.

I'm telling you, it would have been easier with a garden gnome. Because, you know, that's normal.

Somehow, that weekend I got attached to the little guy, and I thought that since I was heading to DC "sometime in August" to see the Muppets at the Smithsonian, I thought that Oliver K. (now named "Fat Stanley" because people got that reference) should come along. I wasn't really counting on the Bush Administration freaking everyone out with this whole "sophisticated liquid" thing (puh-lease), but since he's not a bottle of Nestea, I figured he'd get through security relatively easily. He did, and I'm assuming that he really wasn't a threat because the security guard told "my date" and me to enjoy our day. Yeah, real cute.