After our late-day swim and cable-TV session (Eileen has mad cable! And on-demand! There are SO MANY CHANNELS!), I persuaded the boys to sojurn out yet again. You see, in DC there are monuments. They are awesome, in both senses of the word. I have never seen them at night, and it is said that one must. I had been planning to take the boys to be stunned into respectful silence by gigantic Abe Lincoln on this trip, and the sweltering heat reinforced the decision do to it after dark. I nerdtastically looked up the sunset: eight PM. After overcoming Oscar's perfectly reasonable protest - "I think I've done enough today" - we Metro-ed down to the Washington Monument. A word on buying Metro cards: we are operating primarily with a credit card, which is dandy, but the Metro card machines will only let you make two purchases with the same card before it determines that you are running some kind of short con and cuts you off. This makes refilling metrocards problematic when one is travelling in a group of THREE.
So down we schlepped. A long discussion ensued at the Wash Mon on the following two subjects: (1) why, despite the proliferation of eminently skateboardable structures around, would it be disrespectful to grind a wicked ollie at the Washington Monument? (this from younger son, who does not skateboard except in his active imagination, in which he is Tony Hawk 2.0) (2) please do not ever, ever, EVER take me up to the top of the Washington Monument in that elevator (guess who?).
Oscar has been wanting to visit the WW2 memorial for months and months. You can see them dipping their feet in its waters above. We determined that dipping feet was OK, but wading was disrespectful. Strangely enough, this somewhat overblown piece of monumentry came as close as anything to imbuing in the dudes something approaching reverence. Oscar has suggested that we return to "worship" there again. His word, not mine.
August+ reflecting pool=gnats.
So I stopped the boys on the steps of the Linc Mon. I took out my Droid. I tried to show them YouTube video of the "I Have A Dream" speech right there on the steps. I thought this was a wicked cool idea. Not very interested. They did, however, stand in something approaching attentiveness during my dramatic reading of the Gettysburg Address. I managed to get the boys to hike a mile in 90-degree heat to the metro (rather than take one of the cabs that were swarming like, well, gnats) by persuading them that we could only pay with a credit card, which DC cabs tend not to take. I even let Oscar flag down a couple and ask. Whatever works. We made it to the Metro, me piggybacking Ike some of the way and becoming DRENCHED with sweat.
By this time, it was after nine. I was hungry. I wanted to freaking eat at Jaleo, which sits rightacrossthestreet from my aunt's place, taunting me with its tapas and quesos and cured jamon. So in we went. We ate at the bar. Our bartender was from Ohio and refilled the boys' Sprites in perpetuity. I had (in ingles) chicken croquettes, garlicky shrimp and piquillo peppers stuffed with goat cheese. The boys gamely tried all but the latter. Also: the oily sauce in the bottom of the plates, soaked into some bread, was SO. DELICIOUS. Almost better than the tapas themselves. At last to bed at about 10:30. Tomorrow, we are seriously going to relax. And pick up the quilt at the dry-cleaners.
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