A Weekend Together

Brock played on Brookings’ softball team last Friday in their game against the State Department Diplobats. He hit a triple to win the game in the bottom of the last inning! Hometown hero, baby. To celebrate his last-minute heroics, we went to Shake Shack for a vanilla shake and crinkle fries. Because health.

On Saturday we visited the Library of Congress, which was just was stunning! My mouth dropped as soon as we walked inside and I’m pretty sure it didn’t close until we left. We saw one of the last three remaining Gutenberg Bibles printed on vellum (dried cowhide), and all the other exhibits were incredible. My favorite was Thomas Jefferson’s library. It was huge and I swear there were books covering every subject imaginable. What’s amazing is that the exhibit only represented 1/3 of his original library—the other 2/3rds burned away in a fire. Another great exhibit was called Creating America, about the early days of the Revolution and Constitutional Convention. It was amazing to see letters and documents written by George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, John Adams.

My mom this weekend and I can't wait to go back with her. (Also, I’m determined to come up with a good excuse to get into the beautiful Library of Congress Reading Room. Aside from being beautiful, it hosts some of the last remaining copies of original Books of Mormon!)

On Sunday, Brock gave a lesson to the 8-11 year-old girls in Sunday School. Every time I see him teach something, it makes me fall in love with him a little more. He is the best teacher--whether it's a lesson about church doctrine, Bayesian statistics, or surfing. Brock is the best communicator I've ever met. He knows how to put things in context that people relate to, and man can he capture a room. The girls' eyes were glued to him the entire time (and they're a rambunctious group!).

It was cool to teach these girls church fundamentals. Growing up in an LDS family, you kind of take the basics for granted. Not so with these girls! Most of their parents are converts who are just barely learning those basics themselves. (When we asked the girls about the Plan of Happiness, they said "What's that?") It was cool to see their eyes light up as they learned about resurrection and eternal families. They had so many questions! I just love that bunch--they're such a cute, inquisitive, talkative group of girls who make my Sundays brighter.

Turn to Stone

D.C. bums me out a little. Not because I don't enjoy my internship or the people I live and work with, but because I don't feel quite like I fit with the people here. But last night my attitude changed.

It was brought on by (what else?) a run. I hit the pavement at around 7PM and ran along the Potomac on Rock Creek Trail. I passed the Watergate Complex, the Kennedy Center, and came upon the sand volleyball pits behind the Lincoln Memorial. I looked out upon the dozens of people laughing and playing together, with the sun setting behind them--and the monuments, and the Capitol--and my heart just swelled. Man, this place is beautiful.

I continued running down the Arlington Memorial Bridge. As I crossed over the river and into Arlington National Cemetery, Ingrid Michaelson's "Turn to Stone" started playing on my iPod. I slowed to a stop and listened.

Let's take a better look
Beyond a storybook
And learn our souls are all we own
Before we turn to stone 
Let's go to sleep with clearer heads 
And hearts too big to fit our beds 
And maybe we won't feel so alone 
Before we turn to stone 

My heart started pounding in my chest as I looked around. I was standing among thousands who had turned to stone. After a few moments of still meditation, I crossed back over the bridge again. Instead of running home, however, I ran to the Lincoln Memorial. As I walked up the marble steps toward Lincoln, I stepped on the stone tablet marking the place where Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. delivered his famous "I Have a Dream" speech. Looking up and out across the Mall, I saw what is perhaps the most famous stone building in the entire city--the Washington Monument. Behind me, the stone sculpture of Abraham Lincoln. To the left of me, nearly 60,000 names carved in black stone on the Vietnam War Memorial.

I stood inside the Lincoln Memorial watching families take pictures in front of him. There was a white family, an Indian family, and a black family. I realized that this is what Lincoln had worked toward--this day. I reflected on the Gettysburg Address and the line that reads they gave the last full measure of devotion. And it struck me that Lincoln was not exempt from his own words: He gave that himself. As have countless others. How could I not love this city? This city that lives and breathes the sorrows and joys and pains and triumphs of a country?

I walked in my apartment door with a renewed love for DC, and a stronger resolve to let my life become some sort of sacrifice before I turn to stone too.

***

On the Metro

Today I answered a phone call from a man who was very distraught over anything and everything having to do with Muslims. Throughout the course of our ten-minute conversation (does it still count as a conversation if I only get in three sentences edgewise?) he compared Islam to Nazism, the Qur'an to Mein Kampf, the Arab Spring to the rise of Communism,  and regaled me with tales of how Sharia law is taking over our courts. (Naturally, he proudly told me where I could find out the truth for myself: Glenn Beck's website, radio show, and TV show.)

If only he could have sat with me on the metro tonight as I came home. If he heard the laughter of eight Algerian Muslim men and women as they joked together. If he saw their eyes light up when they realized I spoke Arabic shwaya. And their smiles when I told them I knew where Algeria was, and their shock when I named its capital. They were friendly, smart, funny, and good. 

If I could have sat with me on the metro, I wonder if he would have called in.

The Weekend of Free

I have dubbed this past weekend “the weekend of free.” Because we got hooked up.

On Friday morning, I went on a group visit to the Egyptian defense ministry—which is just a stone’s throw away from the Barlow Center. I can’t tell you how welcoming, kind, and friendly everybody from the defense ministry was. They were so excited to host us and treated us like gold--offering us beverages as soon as we walked in, a personalized presentation, taking questions, and a huge Egyptian feast at the end! The food was incredible. One of my favorite dishes was a chicken-salad type mixture on honey oat bread, topped with a tahini. And, of course, what Egyptian feast would be complete without koshari? I remember Brock and I tried to make this at home once with disastrous results. It was thick, bland, and disgusting. The koshari at the defense ministry was way more legit, obviously. To top it all off, they had a huge spread of desserts and coffee . . . they must’ve been surprised at how much coffee they had leftover ;)

It was interesting having this experience one week after visiting the Israeli embassy—where there was a long, tedious security line, a generic lecture on Israel-U.S. relations, and no reception afterward. Granted, I don’t expect to be treated like a princess on embassy group tours, but the juxtaposition between both defense ministries was undeniable. I think Egyptians are extremely eager to start a new chapter in their history, including a new chapter of Egypt-U.S. relations. 

In the evening, Brock and I went to Jack’s Boathouse for kayaking along the Potomac. We went right at dusk as the sun was setting along the river, and it even started to rain lightly as we were paddling along. We docked out kayaks at a small island and climbed on an old, broken tree that jutted out across the river. We sat for a while and chit-chatted about lovely things that I can’t remember.

We finished the night with free cupcakes from Sprinkles (pumpkin for me, key lime for Brock!) thanks to InternsRock--an event for the 20K+ interns that inundate DC every summer. Interns get a red bracelet to wear during the week, which gives them all sorts of deals from participating vendors. 

The hook-ups continued on Saturday. We visited the National Museum of Crime and Punishment, which was offering a (two-for-one admission through InternsRock). There were some cool exhibits in the museum, but typos everywhere! IN A MUSEUM! Not to mention that it was just horribly laid out. I think good museums disseminate information in a way that "flows" so that it's easy to digest. The Smithsonians do a great job of this.

Later in the afternoon, we met up with our friend Tiffany for a Nat's game! She got free tickets through her work and offered us a couple extras. And get this--on top of being free, each ticket came with $20 worth of food/drinks/merchandise loaded onto it! Ridiculous. Naturally, we didn't want to let all this money go to waste, so we did what any self-respecting American would do and gorged ourselves on junk food. Half-smokes from Ben's Chili Bowl, vanilla shakes from Shake Shack, Dippin Dots, snowcones, EVEN BOTTLED WATER. ($4 for a Dasani? Why not!) To top it all off, the Nats won and Brock even got to see his favorite player (Vladdy) play in another stadium.

We were sinners and missed church on Sunday because--alas!--there was more free stuff to take advantage of. Our InternsRock wristbands gave us free admission to the Newseum. It was everything the Museum of Crime and Punishment wasn't . . . beautifully laid out, spacious, interesting, powerful, thought-provoking. It gave me a greater appreciation for my First Amendment rights. Did you know 20% of Americans can name all five members of the Simpson family, but only 3% can name all five of their First Amendment rights?!

Inside, there was a massive section of the Berlin Wall on the ground floor, along with one of its ominous watchtowers. As a person who enjoys photography, I also loved the exhibit on Pulitzer Prize-winning pictures, and there was also a fascinating exhibit on the history of the press and its relation to the FBI. I think the most powerful exhibit, however, was the one dedicated to 9/11. They have a chunk of the Twin Towers in the museum, along with a towering, wall-sized display of dozens upon dozens of newspaper front pages from 9/12/2001. 

Yet again, I've written a novel of post. See photos of our weekend here (photos #130-189). 

Hot Tubs Are Not Necessarily Conducive to Romantic Encounters

My family is in Park City right now. I was just talking to my dad on the phone--he was with my younger siblings, about to take them on the alpine slide. For whatever reason, this triggered a memory . . .

Cue the squiggly visual effect and harp running up and down the scales.

"KRISTI!"

My little sister burst into our hotel room. Her toothless eight-year old smile spread across her face as she panted heavily from having sprinted down the hallway.

"What?! Is something wrong?!"

"NO! MOM AND DAD WERE JUST DOWN AT THE HOT TUB AND THERE'S A BOY!"

Enter dad.

"Kristi. There's this guy down at the hot tub right now who's about eighteen years old, and he's awesome. Good-looking, funny, Eagle Scout, the whole nine yards. You should go meet him!"

I was sixteen and hadn't had much success with boys. Probably because at the time I was physically indistinguishable from a male. Anyway. The point is that my entire family had just burst into the hotel room--INTERRUPTING MY DISNEY CHANNEL ORIGINAL MOVIE, THANK YOU VERY MUCH--telling me to go down to the pool to meet my future husband.

I nervously took the elevator downstairs to go meet this mystery boy. To my dismay, he was not nearly as attractive my matchmaking parents had made him out to be.

"Hi, I'm Kristi. I think you just met my parents?"

"Oh yeah. Hey."

I don't know what moves he'd put on my mom and dad into order to meet their potentially-attractive daughter, but they were certainly gone as soon as he saw me. This guy was the douche of all douches. To put things in perspective, I can predict with 94% accuracy what he is currently up to: UVU student (hoping to transfer next semester...), lives at Gold's Gym, summer sales recruiter, majoring in language-spoken-on-mission/exercise science/entrepreneurship, and makes out with a new hair school girl every weekend if he manages to pull himself away from the Xbox (although once accomplished both tasks simultaneously).

His fate in the Douchebag Hall of Fame was sealed when he asked: "Sooo. Are any of your friends hot?"

***

Little did I know that only a few years later, I'd be in Park City on Valentine's Day with an infinitely more attractive man who would surprise me that night with something I'd seen on vacation a few months earlier, but hadn't bought because of the price.

And yes, I do have hot friends. EAT IT, HOT TUB GUY.

Two Weeks in June

I haven't written for the last couple weeks . . . here's highlights!

Wednesday 6/1: Went on a run along the C&O Canal path in the evening. It was sticky hot outside, but the fiery pink sunset was so beautiful that we wanted to keep running forever. Didn't have the time though, because we met up later with some of my old high school friends! Derek, Jeff, and Jeff's girlfriend Kim. We went to at a restaurant in Adams Morgan called Open City and chatted away. I love seeing old friends and recognizing what made us friends in the first place.

Thursday 6/2: Our anniversary! I also gave a Capitol Tour to the sweetest Hawaiian family. They'd been saving up for this DC trip for a long time, and they were all so excited to be there. It was a mom, dad, and their four kids. It felt like they were hanging on every word. After the tour, they all took turns giving me big hugs and saying "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" more times than I can remember.

Saturday (6/4) and Sunday (6/5): Took the Amtrak up to Baltimore for Brock's LSAT on Monday. We went to the Cheesecake Factory for a belated anniversary dinner, and moseyed around Inner Harbor. Also saw an Orioles game at Camden Yards--another ballpark crossed off our list! Check out photos #41-65 here.

Monday 6/6: Brock took the LSAT. He said it was crazy hard, but he couldn't have prepared any more than he did. I'm so proud of the diligence he's shown these past seven months throughout hundreds of hours of study and dozens of practice tests. We'll get his scores back in three weeks or so. 

Also, I toured the Capitol dome with some friends from work! I loved getting to see the fresco in the rotunda close up, and looking out from the top of the dome over alll of D.C. See photos #66-106 here.

Tuesday 6/7: We went on a mini-date in honor the LSAT being over. Rode bikes up to Adams Morgan where we ate at Amsterdam Falafel, and then headed down to Dupont Circle for a vanilla shake at Shake Shack. We drank our shake on a park bench and people-watched the goings--a trumpet player, couples holding hands, people dipping their toes in the fountain (see photos #109-120 here). Later that evening, we went down to the Potomac and sat on a bench together, watching little duck families waddle around on the dock.

Wednesday 6/8: In the afternoon, I went to a lecture given by David Brooks! He's one of my favorite columnists in the New York Times. His lecture was centered on how our social skills influence success--did you know that you can predict with 75% accuracy whether a child will eventually graduate high school based on how he interacts with his mother when he's eighteen months old? Crazy! He also spoke a lot of the nature of journalism today and the polarization of Congress. One of the best comments he made was about the current state of the Republican party, which he said has become far too individualistic. With so much focus on "You can pull yourself up by your boot-straps!" and "Become a self-made man!", he says the party often forgets about social context. Where we come from and the situations that surround us matter.

Friday 6/10: Started the day off with a lecture from an orthopedic surgeon who worked for the military in Afghanistan. He showed some gnarly pictures (as in, tumors LITERALLY exploding and infected on the outside of the body). It's amazing to me how normal those pictures were to him, and yet they have the power to make someone pass out. This doctor also had almost no tools to work with. He had his father mail him out a drill from Home Depot to use in surgeries.

In the afternoon, a big group of us headed to a lecture at the Israeli embassy. It was a snoozer, but what I thought was cool was getting a tiny dose of what an Israeli security checkpoint is like. It took our group of forty people well over a half-hour to get through security--and we were the only ones in line! Two by two, we were allowed into the security room. Showed our passports, walked through a metal detector, waited to be released. We could only bring in a pen, paper, and our IDs. No purses, no cell phones, no water bottles. I can't imagine having through go a checkpoint like that twice per day just to go to work (like Palestinians in the West Bank do).

Brock played on Brookings' softball team that night in their epic smackdown of the Forest Service (20-7!). We walked home from the softball fields at Tidal Basin, passing the Jefferson and FDR memorials along the way. It was a beautiful evening and I saw fireflies for the first time! Their little booties are so cute!

Saturday 6/11: We caught a morning showing of the movie Super 8. Except during a very tense scene near the end, the fire alarm went off! Everybody had to evacuate the theater, but we got free movie tickets (even though we were able to go back in and finish the movie).

That night we played games on Georgetown's campus with a bunch of friends from the Barlow Center. I don't know what the game was called--some version of Capture the Flag? Everybody kind of made up rules as we went along, so ended up being a massive game of Calvinball, haha.

Sunday 6/12: We gave talks in Sacrament Meeting at church, and I even pulled double duty with a lesson to the Primary girls right after! They're so fun--most of their families are new to the church and they have so many questions. Like "Why can't we have tattoos?" You'd think the answer would be easy, right? But how do you explain that to a girl whose daddy has tattoos and now they're worried that the Church doesn't like their daddy? 

Later that day I went to baby shower for my beautiful friend Helen! It was so great to see her and to meet all her wonderful family. I always love meeting my friends' families because then I'm like "Okay . . . that's why they're awesome."

Tuesday 6/14: NBD, it was only my BIRTHDAY! Brock surprised me in the morning with breakfast at Founding Farmers. (He'd called my boss the day before and gotten permission for me to come in late that day!)

At work, my co-worker made me an American flag birthday cake and we had a mini-party. How nice are they?! 

Brock and I caught a showing of X-Men: First Class later that night and even splurged on popcorn and Sprite--for $11! WTF?!? But I didn't care. IT WAS MY BIRTHDAY. 

Birthday Wishes--From the Husband

My name is Brock. I have been Kristi's husband for four years and two weeks. Today is her birthday. She is a whopping 23 years old. STOP! I know you're doing the math. I will do it for you. We dated when she was 18, and were married two weeks before her 19th birthday. I'm not going to get all mushy-gushy in this post. Kristi knows how much I love her. She knows she is the most beautiful girl in the world to me. I will leave it at that.

A few years ago, I told Kristi I loved her to the sounds of crunching peanut shells at a Texas Roadhouse. Here's how that went: So once upon a time there was this girl, and she was really beautiful. And there was this guy that thought the world of her. They went on dates, and this guy loved her. Kristi, that guy is me, and that girl is you.

It's no wonder that she said "thank you" and left it at that!

On the way home we saw the most incredible shooting star, and we made wishes. Months later we talked about those wishes. My wish was that she would fall in love with me. It was the one thing I wanted more than anything. Yeah, it's a lofty thing to put on the back of a star. But it came true--so thanks, dead star! Kristi wished that we would get home safely. What kind of wish-on-a-star is that? What about a gazillion dollars?! But, as she likes to say, "Both our wishes came true!" (Then she sticks her tongue out.)

Now flash forward to today. She is going to make a wish tonight for her 23rd birthday. It's not going to be for a million dollars, or a nice car, because those are things she doesn't think about. But I know what she wants more than anything. Most of her blog posts are written at the end of long workdays. I always get to bed first and, on some nights, at one in the morning, I will pull the covers from over my head and ask her, "Why do you stay up so late blogging?"

Finally, after a few years of this, I figured out why she blogs. It's for you. She does it to make you laugh, think, and have the strength to get through your day. Her blog is hilarious, and she writes with the hope that it will make you smile, or think, or both. Why? Because she loves each and every one of you, whether she has met you or not.

Like I said, its easy to know what Kristi will wish for tonight when she blows out her birthday candles: That you, her readers, will be happy.

Brock, Today

1. Gave an amazing talk in church about the Savior.

2. Bro'd out with dude-friends during the Heat/Mavs game.

3. Cuddled up to watch a segment of "Human Planet" with me.

4. Asked to stop watching said documentary, because apparently page 702 in War and Peace is where things start getting really good, and he wanted to read more before going to sleep.

He is perfect.

Hot and Heavy

Ultrarunning is kind of a big deal in my family. Well, okay. Just between me and my dad. But that's like 1/4 of our family, which is a decent chunk. I mean, I eat 1/4 of a pizza and I'm pretty full. (Airtight logic.)

I thought it'd be fun to keep you all up-to-date on how my dad's training for Badwater is going. The first question a person asks you upon finding out you do ultras is "What are those?" (Followed by "Are you stupid?") However, if said person is familiar with the sport, that first question becomes "Have you done Badwater?"

My dad got tired of answering "no" to this question. After trekking in Nepal last year (a lifelong dream of his) he needed another goal to look forward to. And a 135-mile race through Death Valley fit the bill.

With the race in mid-July, he's hitting the peak of his training right now. 40, 50-mile runs on the weekends. Y'know. Just to get his blood pumping. This is what he wears while doing that. On a 92-degree day.

Seven Days in DC

CAN YOU MAKE IT TILL THE END? Only time will tell . . .

Monday 5/24: Brock surprised me with a half-dozen roses at work! We went out and grabbed Mexican for lunch at Burrito Brothers, and worked it off later that night with a fabulous run through Georgetown.

Wednesday 5/25: Busy day at work! The House was debating the Defense Authorization bill for FY2012. Congressman Chaffetz had a couple amendments he wanted added to it, so we spent they day glued to CSPAN trying to determine when he should leave to head to the House floor. There were 152 amendments total, his were #56 and #152.

Brock went to a briefing about the Arab-Israeli peace process and met the author of a book I'm reading! The bookmark I'm using as I read is now Aaron David Mitchell's business card! Nerd alert.

Later, Brock and I went out for gelato at Dolcezza in Georgetown. Grabbed some Starbust Gummies at CVS on the way home (ADDICTED TO THOSE THINGS) and curled up with a Netflix. And by "curled up," I mean we laid flat on our stomachs on the Murphy bed with our chins in our hands watching Netflix on my laptop that was sitting on a desk chair.

Thursday 5/26: Ratko Mladic caught!

Friday 5/27: Our class for Washington Seminar this week was going to the Holocaust Memorial Museum. We had the privilege of listening to Erika Neuman, a Holocaust survivor. She was the cutest old lady with a thick Czech accent. She never went to a concentration camp, but lived in the Czernowitz ghetto for two years. She talked about being hungry all the time. She remembered her dad trying to have a conversation with her, but realizing that she was not paying attention. "Erika, are you listening to me?" he asked. "I'm so sorry," she replied, "I was just thinking about a piece of bread."

It was inspiring to listen to her. One thing that touched me is how she doesn't hate anybody. She said it's taken her a while to get to that point, but she can genuinely say now that she holds no malice in her heart to Germans, to Nazis, or anyone for that matter.

I moseyed around the Holocaust Memorial alone for a bit (Brock had to work, so he didn't get to go). My favorite part was the Hall of Remembrance, which is a beautiful, serene room for quiet reflection. See pictures in this album (starting at photo #176).

After refueling at Potbelly, I went to the Museum of American History to finish the "Price of Freedom" exhibit we'd seen a couple weeks ago. True to form, it took my obsessive placard-reading self two hours to make it from the Civil War to present day. It was one of the best exhibits I've been to at any museum--essentially a crash course in American war history.

Later, Brock and I stole away for a sweet treat at Sprinkles Cupcakes in Georgetown. Salted caramel for him, a rich dark chocolate for me. By the time we finished, there was pouring rain outside. Solution? Keep dry by staying inside to order another cupcake.

When we got home, our friends Ryan and Tiffany called and invited us to something incredibly cool--a candlelight vigil at the Vietnam Veterans' Memorial put on by Vietnam Veterans themselves. Oh, and all of them were bikers. (As in, a huge motorcycle gang.)

Hundreds of Vietnam vets and their families lined up along the wall in the dark with small glowsticks in hand. At about 9:30, a procession made its way through the crowd. It was a man playing the bagpipes, followed by a torch-bearer and a group of women wearing white--all mothers who had lost sons in Vietnam. To see big, burly, tattooed men in leather jackets cry over their fallen brothers was something painful and beautiful.

After a few minutes, a lone trumpeter played "Taps" in the distance. The procession moved on to other statues around the Vietnam Veterans' Memorial--the Vietnam Women's Memorial and statue of the Three Soldiers. There was a short speech and prayer given at each place given by the director of Rolling Thunder.

Saturday 5/28: Met up with Ryan and Tiffany again in for breakfast at Eastern Market. The line was long, but soooo worth it. I had French toast on challah bread with a side of perfect (no really, perfect) bacon. Brock had crab cakes. For breakfast. But he swears they were the best crab cakes he's ever tasted, so more power to him?

After breakfast we strolled around the farmer's market outside, and wow there was some beautiful fruit there! Fresh, bursting strawberries, blueberries, peaches, watermelon--Brock and I are going back next week for a fruit run. There was also a ton of artwork, jewelry, clothing, pottery, and other artisan crafts for sale.

Then we went old bookstore around the corner. Perhaps "bookhouse" is a more accurate term. This funny old man owns the place, and as soon as you walk in he says (without looking up) "Hello, hello. Fiction upstairs, non-fiction downstairs."

Sunday 5/29: We biked down to the National Mall in the morning to see if we could catch any of the Rolling Thunder action. Over 400,000 vets on Harleys ride from the Pentagon, down the Mall toward the Capitol, and on to the Lincoln Memorial. Freaking rad.

Unfortunately, the ride didn't start till noon, and we had to get gettin' to church! We still got to see a ton of bikers riding toward the Pentagon though, which was awesome. After church we met up with some friends at the National Memorial Day Concert on the lawn in front of Capitol Hill. I felt like it struck the perfect balance between patriotism and somber remembrance. They had actors who read scripts written by veterans, veterans' wives, their families. It gave me an even greater sense of respect for the sacrifice and bravery of our armed forces.

To top things off, we got to hear from Colin Powell! That was very cool. We also listened to musical numbers from Kris Allen, Pia Toscano, and the great B.B. King himself! B.B. King was sooo funny. He made a few flubs here and there, but THE GUY IS 85. He just laughed and kept on going!

My favorite part of the concert was when the band played all the anthems of the different branches of the military. As the songs played, veterans in the audience stood to be recognized. It was so great to see some of them get up and belt the songs with abandon! I think the best song is the Air Force's ("Wild Blue Yonder") but I also love the lyrics of the Marines' ("Halls of Montezuma").

Monday 5/30: I've been wanting to spend Memorial Day at Arlington ever since we found out we were going to DC. We got there early in the morning with a group of friends from the Barlow Center, but not early enough! The line to get in to the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier (where President Obama lays the wreath) was ridiculous, but we waited anyway.

It was the hottest, most humid day of the year. I think the heat index was 102. But we persevered!--only to be told that the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier was closed :( Disappointed, we stopped to rest in the shade for a few minutes. Right as we were passing the security line, we heard a guard say "Okay, I've got room for 10 more people." And there was almost exactly 10 people in our group! We squeezed in at the last second! Soooo lucky. Because we were the last ones in, there weren't any seats. Normally that's a bad thing, but not when the standing room is in the shade! 

I could go on and on about how amazing it was to watch the Memorial Day program at Arlington, and how privileged I felt to hear from the leaders of our country, but I'll just let the pictures do the talking. It was the closest I've ever stood to a Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, Secretary of Defense, and President. Geeked out a bit over that ;)

Finally, Serendipity 3 opened up in Georgetown on Memorial Day. (Just a ten-minute walk from our front door. I swear DC is trying to give me diabetes.) Brock and I went there for a frozen hot chocolate to cool down!

Wanna Know What We Did For Our Anniversary?

Do ya? Do ya? It went a little something like this.

I woke up in the morning to glorious pancakes! Brock had to wake up extra early to make them. He also surprised me at lunch with a chocolate hazelnut cupcake from Baked and Wired! He walked almost ten blocks from his work to Baked and Wired in Georgetown, back to the Foggy Bottom metro station, and then made the twenty-minute metro ride to Capitol Hill. All to get me a cupcake. Ain't he a gem?

Oh, but the carbs didn't stop there. After work, he picked up some thick bread, cinnamon, and whipped cream to make French toast for dinner! As Brock was cooking, he goes: "Wait. When did anniversaries become a day when the husband does everything for the wife?" Hehe.

Post-dinner is where things got really exciting, let me tell ya. Brock cranked on LSAT practice for a couple hours, and I blogged and read the news before falling asleep. At 9PM. Brock tried waking me up, but I was out. Meh, he thought. Might as well do some more LSAT. So he did.

I woke up at quarter to midnight to a chorus of manly cheers. Brock was watching the last minutes of the Heat/Mavs game with a dozen of his buddies on the big screen TV down the hall. He walked through the door at 11:50, and we looked at each other and just started laughing at how lame we were. Then I realized something.

"BROCK. It's 11:54. Our anniversary is almost over."

"Yeah, so?"

"We haven't...y'know..."

"What?"

"Y'know..."

"Huh?"

"WE ARE FAR TOO YOUNG TO FORGET TO HAVE SEX ON OUR ANNIVERSARY."

Night Sounds

A few days ago we fell asleep to the sound of the city. We live downtown, so honking cars, music, sirens, and intoxicated yelling carries on throughout the evening. While many would not consider this ideal white noise, there's something soothing about listening to the bustle of a city outside your window.

A few weeks ago we fell asleep to the sound of trains. We lived near an old railyard. Hearing the faint call of train whistles in the distance was something I looked forward to every night. To know that out there in the darkness, a lone conductor was chugging away, thinking about things that only solitude can make you think about.

A few months ago we fell asleep to the sound of the Amazon. Falling water pounded the wooden ceiling above us, like tiny pearls dancing on the roof. But the dancing grew lighter and lighter, and before long the clouds carried it away. A nocturnal orchestra started to swell: Insects, amphibians, mammals, birds. We slept as the chorus wound through kapok trees, wild ferns, and a serpentine river.

A few years ago we fell asleep to the sound of the ocean. Back then we were just boyfriend and girlfriend. We stayed up late at the beach talking, laughing, and eventually dozed off in each other's arms. A little later, we woke up in a panic. It was two in the morning! In our hurry to gather our things, we lost our car keys in the sand. So we had to walk home. As we turned onto his family's street, we noticed his father's car missing from the garage. Lights were on inside. It was 4AM when we walked through the door and heard “YOU TWO! WHERE ON EARTH WERE YOU I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD I’M SO GLAD YOU’RE OKAY LET ME MAKE YOU SOME HOT CHOCOLATE.”

***

In a few hours we’ll fall asleep again. And the one sound I'll hear tonight isn't sirens or trains or raindrops or Pacific waves. I’ll hear what I've heard every night for the last four years--what I'll hear every night for the rest of my life: “I love you. You're beautiful. See you in the morning, honeybee.”