(This was originally going to be one ginormous post, but then I realized that it was getting stupidly long. So now we’ll have several shorter posts instead. You’re welcome.)
Yay! I’m back from DC! And have finally written a bunch of “what I did on my vacation” posts! Complete with pictures and irreverent commentary!
(It’s OK if you want to click away. I’ll understand.)
So…I went to DC on Wednesday the 15th. Highlights of the outbound flight included having a whole (3-seat!) row to myself, and seeing another knitter while waiting in the terminal at STL. She was struggling laboriously with bamboo straights and some textured stitch in bulky yarn. I sort of wanted to hug her and tell her it would all be OK, but I didn’t want to be Creepy Airport Lady. So I just subtly flashed my sock-in-progress instead. Now she just thinks I’m Pretentious Airport Lady.
I took this picture on the plane:
That’s a very artfully-composed shot, entitled “DC at 9pm and a paperback resting on my knees.” Prints are available for $50 each – $75 if you want it signed. By Roxie.
Since Jeff had to work like normal during the week, I was pretty much left to my own devices for four days. It was sort of fun, actually 🙂
On Thursday I decided to learn my way around Dupont Circle and wander aimlessly throughout the area. My aimless wandering did, however, need to ultimately take me in the direction of a dress to wear to the Nationals/Cards game that we’d be attending with a bunch of people from Jeff’s work. When I’d packed, I hadn’t realized that we had fancy box seats or that there were going to be other people from the firm – besides the summer associates, I mean – there. So the t-shirt, jeanskirt and flats wouldn’t really work.
I don’t really have any pictures from Thursday’s wanderings, or from the game, because I was meeting new people and trying to be on my best behavior – so I couldn’t bust out the Nikon, y’know?
But it’s OK. Because here’s what happened:
I found the *perfect* cotton floral sheath dress at Filene’s Basement, for which I just happened to have packed the perfect accessories, including my red Fluevog Malibrans. I took the dress back to Jeff’s sublet, and showered and did my hair and makeup and got ready all pretty-like. I knew I would be meeting people and wanted to impress them, so I put forth like 65% extra effort. (which is like 2% by normal people standards, but never you mind.)
I stepped out the door with plenty of time to get there by 6:00pm, and AT THAT MOMENT the heavens opened up. I was thoroughly soaked in about 2 seconds. I ran to the corner store where the owners are always super friendly, and asked if thy sold umbrellas. They didn’t, but the owner gave me a plastic bag to hold over my head while I dashed toward CVS. I only made it as far as the Embassy of Senegal (you really can’t make this shit up), where I was forced to take refuge. Well, refuge under their building’s overhang, that is.
I called Jeff in tears – “MY NEW DRESS IS RUINED MY HAIR IS SOAKED AND MY FLUEVOGS ARE SQUISHY AND THEY’RE DESTROYED I WANNA GO HOME” – all the while trying to hail a cab. After 10 minutes of sobbing and hailing and desperate hair-scrunching (trying to magically change it from “soaked” to “artfully tousled”), I finally found a cab, which delivered me to Jeff’s office by 5:59pm. I was freaking MacGUYVER in that cab ride, let me tell you. Using only a hanky, my tub of Brambleberry Rose lip balm and my cracked old Cover Girl compact, I managed to transition from “hot mess” into “passable”. FUCKING A, MAN.
Nevertheless, I did get to make that big first impression as “wet and bedraggled Kate” rather than “cool and collected Kate”. And my Fluevogs were still very, very squishy.
So…the game was awesome. Everybody from the firm was really nice, and we all enjoyed the Diamond Club (I know, I thought it sounded like a strip club, too. But it’s not. It’s just the place where people serve you gummy bears and cheddar popcorn in little plastic cups, and they have tiramisu on the dessert table). I made at least two jokes which were passably humorous by normal people standards, and Jeff only had to kick me under the table once. SUCCESS.
(The Cards lost, though, so Jeff endured his fair share of good-natured ribbing on that account.)
After the rented van (OK more like party bus) dropped us off at the firm, we started the 12-block walk home. At which point, it started pouring rain again (detecting a theme here?). But, hell. My shoes were still squishy and it was 11pm and Jeff’s knee hurt and we were both fucking exhausted. We made it, and we crashed into bed (err…into futon) and fell straight asleep.
Just in case you were wondering, my Fluevogs are OK. I dried them near the air conditioner, slowly, over the next two days. I love those fucking shoes. I want to have their babies.