At the moment, I'm in a foul mood because the DC department of transportation has rerouted tour buses past my apartment and down tiny little 3rd Street NE. I'd like to point out that there's massive construction in the middle of 3rd street. And that I've been complaining about this for two months. To no avail.

 I'm considering lobbing water balloons from my deck. Friends have threatened to start mooning the drivers and passengers. I've just been giving them scowling dirty looks and thinking about how pissed I am with DC. It's such a stupid, minor problem. So easy to solve. Alas, all I have is my one lone vote. 

 Perhaps I could rent a giant Grayhound bus and drive it in circles around Mayor Fenty's block? Hmm. Could be worth the cost. 

Whenever I mention to people that I covered the Obamas' state dinner for Mexico's president and his wife, they seem to have this vision of me in a ballgown chatting up the first couple for details about the mole. Oh, if only that were the case!

 

My day began at about 8 am when I arrived at the White House for the formal arrival ceremony. That was by far the coolest part of the day because I was standing outside on the South Lawn along with everyone else who had been invited. I'm not usually a sucker for a lot of pomp and red, white and blue hoopla, but this was quite impressive. Troops in uniform, a fife and drum corps, canon fire. Whoo-hoo. Very nice.

Afterwards, I hopped in the press van that was in the first lady's motorcade and we wound our way to Silver Spring, where the two first ladies visited an elementary school and a little second grader infamously asked a question about immigration and noted that her mother was not here legally - or so she seemed to say. Truth be told, i only really heard what the child said once I got back to the White House press room and was able to hear the recording captured by the TV boom mikes. It was impossible to really hear the child at the event. She was too far away.

About this time, I was franticlly filing a day story on the dinner and about the only thing I'd had to eat was toast from the morning and a bag of carrots I'd wisely brought. It was now about 3:30. My life saver was one of the photographers who went out to grab a sandwich and brought one back for me. That chicken sandwich from Au Bon Pain was the best thing ever!

By 4:30, I was walking through the East Room and the performance pavillion for a sneak peek at what was in store for the guests. Then I was in my place behind a velvet rope waiting for guests to arrive. And slowly they did. You try to think of some sparkling question that will entice them to stop and come over and chat for a bit. But it's a tough thing to do. I mean, is there anything I REALLY want to ask Sec. of Transportation Ray LaHood?  "Hey Ray, what's up with all the blasted tour buses coming down my street?"

 Eva Longoria Parker looked great and is obviously practiced in the art of the red carpet pose. She stopped. Hand on hip. Smile. Perfect. She also was quite thoughtful on the subject of immigration. I actually had to reprimand one of the Marines who rushed one of the guests away as she was chatting with the press. Dude, you're in uniform and all, but there's no time limit on how long they lady can chat. Besides, she'd been there about 2 minutes. And, uh, this is the PRESS line. It's the whole point of coming through. He was duly reprimanded. 

When the last guest arrived, it was back to the press room with my colleague Roxanne Roberts. And we wrote. We heard the toasts on closed circuit TV. And we wrote. I did not see Beyonce perform, but I received confirmation that indeed she did. I did not taste Rick Bayless's cuisine, but it was apparently delicious. I left the White House at about 11pm and took a cab home.

I had a peek at history. But I did not get to participate. Thus ended Robin's state dinner adventure. 

I just read that Oprah will be producing an HBO film version of "The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks." I loved this book. I cried when I read this book. So I'm trying to figure out why I'm a bit distressed that Oprah has made it into an Oprah project. Do I have Opie fatigue? 

 I praise her for taking on topics that others typically are hesitant to touch. But I just don't want her telling me how monumental the book is and thus her film. I KNOW it's an incredible book. I don't need to be told it. Please Oprah, do the film. But no lectures. Mmm-wha! Big kiss.

Ok, I need a glass of wine now.

I went to the first lady's childhood obesity event on Tuesday. (It was supposed to be a vacation day, but I was too friggin' paranoid not to cancel and go to the event!) The Task Force on her big initiative was releasing its report. There were no huge surprises. Lots of common sense. Tweaking and upgrading of existing initiatives. It's strength was in the show of force from the administration, which basically said: We mean it this time.

 Anyway, I was appalled by some of the comments people left on the story. Why so hateful, America? The first lady is just trying to help kids be healthy and you'd think that by suggesting they eat fewer Twinkies and occasionally run around outside she was telling parents she was going to kidnap their children and eat them for dinner.

 

I had an unbelievable trip to Toronto last weekend. I was part of Critical Mass, which was a sub-program of Hot Docs, the huge documentary film festival in Toronto. I spoke for about 15 minutes at the University of Toronto and then Jeanne Beker led a Q&A. First of all, Jeanne is an incredible interviewer. Really great questions. She truly listens to what you're saying and then has wonderful follow-ups. I always learn a lot being interviewed and I can definitely take a few pointers from Jeanne.

 

The audience was also terrific. Despite the gruesome rain, there was a good turnout of about 100 people and they were so polite and attentive. Their questions at the end were also great. I talked a bit about some of the columns I've written on the intersection of film and fashion. And I suggested that in many ways we all use fashion as costuming for our daily lives.

One of the big questions in the air right now has to do with fashion bloggers. Perhaps I'm being hypocritical as I sit her blogging, but I am a bit bothered that so many people equate fashion blogging with journalism. The fact is, a lot of the bloggers would say they're not journalists. They're not trying to do objective reporting. They are just sharing their thoughts. I think that's great. It's the people who muddy the line who bother me.

it's hard enough convincing folks that there's real truth-telling in fashion reporting. People seem shocked when I tell them that no, I don't get free clothes. Trust me, I'd be much, much better dressed if I did! But some bloggers do and often, they don't disclose that.

Sue me if I'm overly sensitive. But journalism just isn't as much fun as it once was. Don't get me wrong, I still enjoy my job and I still have the chance to really sink into a story. But those opportunities are harder and harder to come by. Mostly though, everyone works in a state of paranoia, looking over their shoulder wondering if this is the day when everything falls apart.

I try to keep that out of my mind. I try to remind myself that there will always be a place for good stories. And I try to remind myself that even in the worst of times, people still have to get dressed. 

For the last month, I've felt as though I've been hopping from one event to another with little time to breathe. In April, I was in Mexico City cover the first lady's trip and only now to I have any time to reflect on the adventure.

 

You never know what to expect on a trip like that. Will you spend most of your time at a 50 yard distance wishing you had a pair of binoculars to figure out if the first lady is smiling or grimacing? Will you get any face time with her?

 The good new is that I had a pretty up close view of her trip and from purely a historical perspective, I am grateful. It isn't everyone who gets a bird's eye view of history - no matter who's in the White House. People often respond to my telling them that I cover the first lady with a look of awe and jealousy. I think they this vision of me with Mrs. Obama on speed dial and regular girls nights when we polish each others nails! Ha! Mostly I spend my time trying to figure out how to do my job despite a reasonably unhelpful White House. Obviously, they have a story they want to tell -- or not. And I have stories that I'd like to tell. Occasionally they actually dovetail and everyone is happy. Mostly everyone is content. 

 If there is anything that really stuck out for me in Mexico City, it was the sophistication of the sprawling capital and the security. We were staying in the same hotel as the first lady, which by the way was nice but not spectacular. Suffice it to say that it was not the Four Seasons. She was being rather frugal with your tax dollars. Anyway, there were metal detectors and cops surrounding the hotel, even before she arrived. 

 The city is, in many ways, beautiful. I arrived a day early and had the chance to visit the Anthropology Museum. The first lady was scheduled to visit it but I knew that once I was i the travelling press pool my view of the museum would be basically through a thicket of security. A big blur. I learned a lot about Mayan and Aztec history. Thankfully, large chunks of the wall text were in English.

 There was great collegiality among the small band of journalists following her. And yes, we were all pissed off that she went to Haiti while her press pool awaited her in Mexico City. She got coverage for the Haiti trip and it was incredibly important. I think her team really dropped the ball on this. She could have drawn even more attention to Haiti had she had press with her. And wasn't press the whole point of that trip?

 Anyway, I returned from Mexico with a lovely pottery bowl - bought at an artist collective at my hotel. And a fine bottle of tequila from the duty free shop which I've yet to crack open.