Now, I am a bit obsessive about all things history. I blame my father for it. He collected newspapers and would always tell me stories about growing up during Watergate and how Arlington was once a place of wonder and new experiences. He remembers everything. When the Senators were not the Nationals. How RFK used to shake when there was a roar of stampeding audience members for a game. When the metro was built and how you could get free rides on it. The Caps going into seven overtimes in the NHL playoffs in the 1970s. Sometimes I feel like I had experienced the things he had, just because I had heard it so much.

One thing I remember is this picture framed at my house. My dad took this amazing shot of the Enterprise when it was first brought to Dulles International Airport in the 1980s. He was able to stand on the runway, watch it fly in and then land - something unheard of to the public these days.

Today, I got to experience my dad reliving the past by seeing the Discovery shuttle fly over heading to Dulles. I literally sped down Route 7 to get to Route 28 where lines of cars had pulled off to the side of the road to catch a glimpse. At first, I thought I had missed it. My fellow reporter, Crystal Owens and photographer Beverly Denny, were at the Udvar-Hazy museum’s parking lot and had been there all morning. She told me that I had a matter of minutes.

I found my dad, standing by his car, glaring into the sky. We waited. And waited.

Then, out of nowhere, it appeared and flew so low to the ground I felt like I could reach out and grab it. Standing there with my dad, more than 30 years later from his first experience, I felt like another chapter that would be added to the history of not only my life, but his.

A photo take by my father, Oliver Peters, of the Discovery shuttle with his smart phone off Route 28.

The photo taken by my father, Oliver Peters, when the Enterprise shuttle came to Dulles in 1985.

For a good part of my life, I wasn’t really sure what the term “Super Tuesday” meant. Not until I was in college. Not because I wasn’t smart, I just didn’t follow politics as I do now - which isn’t entirely too closely. It’s just a whole bunch of fighting and bickering in suits, really. Like who has more money and what rights can we take away from women…

Now, working in a weekly newspaper, Tuesday are never super. It’s our production day. It’s spent yelling across the newsroom. Reaching delirium. Being yelled at by editors to get back to work. And massive amounts of smoke breaks.

Just think of that episode of Mad Men where that guy gets his toe cut up by the mower that was in the office, except minus the scotch ... drinking in the workplace is somewhat frowned upon.

It’s countless pages after pages coming out of the printer for editors to proof. Scrambling to find that next breaking news, then trying to write a somewhat coherent piece of what you’ve just broke.

Although today is a Republican primary, nothing tops the election night this past fall for the Loudoun County Board of Supervisors and School Board, along with the state elections. I think the newsroom hit a new low that night. Nothing in terms of quality of work, but we didn’t take the best path to get there. I mean, working 16 plus hours straight can do very strange things to your psyche.

When you have dreams of zombie attacks after that night, like our then government reporter Crystal Owens did, or having numbers dance through your head like those gumdrops that supposedly dance in little children’s dreams, it takes quite some time to recover from that. I still don’t think I’ve completely recovered. Sometimes on our Tuesdays, I feel myself reverting back to that unstable state-of-mind and the looming fear takes over and I need to find the closest dark corner to hide in well crawling into a ball whispering to myself.

Now, you may think to yourself, why would you do that? What is so bad that would cause that to happen to yourself? Well, if you’ve ever worked at a place where deadlines run your life and procrastination seems to take over more than you like, then you can get just a tad bit stressed.

Personally, I’m one of the most over-organized individuals you’ll ever meet. My entire mailbox is sorted by date, I have lists for lists and I have extreme anxiety over not having control over things. Now, I’m told that my over anxiousness is toxic in this environment and turns out to be a downward spiral for the rest of the newsroom. I’m on the train to destructive-behavior-ville and I’m taking everyone with me. But, hey, I thrive on it. And once Tuesday is over, the whole process starts again.

I can’t even enjoy a Sunday because I’m thinking of all the things I have to get ready for Monday that will in turn have to be ready for the paper on Tuesday. I’m constantly working in my head. It never stops.

Back to last fall, the day went well. Everyone was out at polling places, getting interviews, placing things on the web. But when night fell and the anticipation for the results were heavily weighing on us, everything seemed so hilarious that we went crazy on our Facebook status updates. Threats of being placed in padded rooms were upon us, constantly pressing the refresh button and replacing numbers on the result page. Even our Editor John Geddie started to look younger as the night went on - still a phenomenon that we haven’t quite figured out.

So this Tuesday, as any other Tuesday at the LTM, it’s not super. I sometimes sit here with ear-buds in my ears and I may not even be listening to music - just so I can ignore everyone to get some peace and quiet. Once people start wrapping up their assignments, the buzz starts to happen.

Now what’s the buzz you may ask. It’s kind of like when an annoying bee flies around your head when you’re extremely allergic to it. You can bat at it because it’ll sting you. You can’t ignore it because you know it’s there. So what do you do? Continue with the mass chaos of people yelling across the office or cursing the loud phone that is ringing when you’re trying to figure out the best lede you can write.

And I admit. I’m the worst at it. I’ve been told I do not have a “indoor voice”. My voice tends to carry. Which is good and bad. I mean, everyone knows when I’m in the office, if I’m still living or if I’m in a good mood, depending on the volume of my laughter.

But the point of this blog is that no Tuesday should be called Super Tuesday. Because for me, they will always be insane. But, I love that insanity and wouldn’t have it any other way - unless I’m complaining about it on Tuesday, so don’t point that out.

Ok. I can’t take this anymore. Either snow or stay warm. Pick one please. My body cannot handle this anymore. It’s literally making me sick. I spent the past week with my throat the size of a pea due to a sinus infections because of this heinous weather.

I now spend my days picturing myself in a pair of cutoff shorts and a nice cold beer in my hands, just counting down the days until it’s spring. But, once spring has sprung means crazy allergies and again, hating life. There is no win-win situation here. Maybe if somehow I can figure out how to create my own control environment, by say, living in a bubble, that would work.

Now, as I’ve stated before I love snow. Can’t get enough, until it’s too much and it’s gross and dirty and everything is ruined by all the cars driving on it. We haven’t had that this year. Maybe we’ll get slammed in March, oh boy! Right when I’m expecting it to become beautiful and warm out ... But this bipolar weather is making me on edge. I can’t concentrate. Especially today, deadline day. It’s gorgeous outside and all I want to do is lay in the sun and soak up the rays. Have a picnic. Heck! Frolic somewhere, I mean why not? Who knows when it’s going to be like this again. Because we all know tomorrow it’s going to be below freezing.

Make up your mind, mother nature. Because controlling the weather is not my job, it’s yours. Figure it out, I have enough on my plate, thanks.