|Never too old for toys!|
|You will be arrested immediately if you sit on Abe's lap, so Cyndi and I climbed up there and just hovered.|
|Cyndi's a pretty amazing photographer.|
|Cyndi's favorite kitchen utensil: Her fingers.|
It seems the things we anticipate the most go by the fastest. Mike and I scored some cheap toy cameras on Wednesday, and I packed the single lens Holga and headed on late Thursday night. After a strange night of back pain, an overzealous bus driver who referred to everyone on the bus as her family (i.e., "How's my family doing?" over the intercom at 2 am, 3 am, 4 am when she stopped at a Dunkin Donuts in the Bronx), and watching the sun rise from the top of a double-decker, it was a sweet reunion with hungover Cyndi at Union Station. She was dressed to the nines in some basketball shorts, t-shirt, and a cardigan. And thus began our classy weekend.
I liked arriving in the morning; being able to shower, eat some breakfast, and head out for a full day of wandering on the National Mall, napping, swirled frozen margaritas (which I drank too fast) & delicious chips and salsa, a drunken stop at the Asian grocer, then a night in of leftover Rose, homemade cake batter ice cream, and the best homemade pizza I have ever had. (I broke Mike's heart when I told him that.) Cyndi's secret ingredient? Cutting the pizza with scissors.
I started falling asleep on the couch pretty soon after we finished the ice cream and I could let my guard down. We curled up in Cyndi's bed like old times, sans the Doritos, of course.