I will eventually get to my past weekend — one last getaway before we become parents — but I keep getting distracted by the crime stories that are e-mailed by the neighborhood association or posted on our neighborhood blog.  These events qualify as a wave.  People are being robbed by gunpoint walking from car to house.  Bikes and tools have been stolen from sheds.  Cars and houses have been broken into.  It’s enough to make me come up with a crazy plan of carrying a chef’s knife in my glove compartment, and run from the car screaming when I get home from work.  I have a (terrible) theory that the probability of me being murdered (by my husband, anyway) increases with pregnancy, so of course any sort of crime seems more devastating when it happens to a pregnant lady.  You know, like how it’s sadder when a dog is robbed than when a cat dies?  Richard (who will most likely NOT murder me) is under strict orders to not let that Jeff Rossen from NBC news report on me if I do die tragically in a knife-related accident while defending our bikes.  That guy sucks.

Now about our lovely weekend in Washington, D.C.

We:

-saw Superchunk.  They were really good, but we left after hearing them play for one hour because someone (busted, me) could no longer stand up comfortably after two opening bands.  The show was up on NPR, and we didn’t miss much of it.  It was another of those shows where the crowd was great, and most likely were dressed exactly the same way they were the last time they saw Superchunk play, except now they were able to capture the show on their cell phones (whereas eight years ago they just had to remember that they saw a concert). Also, I assumed that I would naturally be able to locate the 9:30 Club since I spent about seven years of my life driving there on a weekly-to-monthly basis.  Nope.  We got a little off course before finding it.  At least we remembered where to get on-street parking.

-went to the Spy Museum.  I had been before.  It was good the second time around.  The guard said “no food or drink” to everyone coming in.  I walked by him and he said “you can eat all you want.”  I then pulled out a six-foot sub from my tiny purse and got mayo all over Ethel Rosenberg documents.

-ate at Ben’s Chili Bowl.  It was crazy busy, and pretty good.  Richard wants to have all of his meals sent to him via DHL from there.  I think that will get pricey, but we’re going to try it out for a few months.

-stayed at a fancy hotel in Old Town Alexandria.  I’m not going to look up whether it’s called Olde Towne, because that’s stupid.  But it was a nice hotel.  I got to swim in the pool and I had a great night’s sleep.

Also: We met up with my father-in-law, ate ice cream (um, twice), ate a couple other good meals, and brainstormed more disaster-named restaurants like Thai Tanic, which we drove by in D.C.  I’ve only come up with Hindenburgers and a bakery called the Challa-n-ger Explosion.

I tried not to get emotional about how much things will soon change and how little energy I had to make the most of the weekend.  I enjoy our day/weekend trips very much.  It’s the foundation of our relationship in a way (I’m talking about my associate, not Superchunk).  But, try not to get emotional when you’re in your third trimester.  I get teary-eyed looking at American flags or listening to traffic reports.  We will have weekend trips again, just with a little nugget squirming around in a Baby Bjorn.

Ben's Chili Bowl

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