O, how we love thee, fair District of Columbia. You always treat us so much better than we deserve. As we rolled off the beltway this afternoon, half dead with jetlag and bumping audiobooks in our ridiculous blue SUV, the usual cloud of dread descended. We had only received confirmation of the show six days ago, and Jack and Nitzan were rightfully concerned that a venue deep in the Virginia suburbs, nestled in between a Safeway and a hardware store, probably wasn’t going to have too much of a built-in crowd.
But the kids came through, as always. And now we’re nestled into one of our many homes away from home, in Fairfax Station, and we’ll be in New York tomorrow. I have nothing to close this with beyond “thank you.”