We’re moving back to Los Angeles. Soon. Like soon enough that my chances of completing my “1000 Things to Do In D.C. Before I Die” is looking pretty grim. At summer’s outset, when a fall move back to L.A. was officially decided upon, my list began to take form.
- Take Charlie to the Air & Space Museum
- Take Charlie to the College Park Aviation Museum.
- Go see Hamilton on Broadway. Not a D.C. thing, but L.A. will not have $13 Bolt Bus rides to Penn Station.
- Bring Charlie to Fredericksburg like 12 weekends in a row so he could play with various cousins and doting adult relatives.
- Eat dinner at Jaleo with Andy. We’ve been meaning to. Small plates! Iberian-style! With octopus! It would be like our favorite thing.
- See a burlesque show at that place on H street. (Wait– Just looked it up. The Palace of Wonders, later renamed Red Palace, closed at the beginning of 2013. Double-damn!)
- Have a quality Sunday brunch with each of my beloved D.C.-area friends and colleagues. (Maybe at the Red Palace! Wait–)
- Host a swingin’ house-cooling party, for more quality time with beloved D.C.-area friends and colleagues.
- Read all my Real Simple and Sunset Magazines, which I’ve just been putting in a beautiful stack since Charlie was born.
- Bike trail!
- Take Charlie on the recently restored carousel at historic Glen Echo Park.
- Have a beer with Joe Biden.
- Get invited to a State Dinner. I don’t even care if it’s for a country known for their great food.
- Spot a bald eagle in my neighborhood, close enough to take an identifiable picture of it.
- Have happy hour at McClellan’s Retreat, because California will never favor me with a bar whose name is a one-percenter Civil War joke.
Find all the District boundary stones. (I think I found one on my way home from the doctor’s last week, so just like 39 to go!)
- Take a solo trip to the U.S. Holocaust Memorial Museum. My previous visits have been tours with colleagues or youthful field trips wherein I had to keep my shit together. I just want to not tell anyone where I’m going one Tuesday morning and spend some time sobbing by the confiscated shoes.
- Eat everything delicious. Ben’s Chili Bowl was once high on this list, but Bill Cosby’s muraled face smiles at me every time I walk by. While that used to be charming, these days it puts me in no mood for a half-smoke.
- Go get my nose pierced with my friend Cynthia, like we swore a year ago (over wine) that we would.
As the summer has taken shape, my revised bucket list has become much smaller:
- Have literally 11 vein-repair surgeries on my legs, plus some ultrasounds to make sure said surgeries are working.
- Rest between those surgeries and allow you, my beloved D.C.-area friends and colleagues, to come over and drink wine with me in the evenings. Double points if you bring a casserole or entertain my child.
- Yard sale to end all yard sales! (This Saturday, August 20th. If you know me in real life, come on over and take four book cases, two sofas, two futons, and ~150 theatre books off my hands. I’ll provide the wine, and I’ll give you a sweet deal. Like probably free.)
- Pack. HOLY SHIT I HAVE TO PACK THIS ENTIRE GODDAMN HOUSE WORTH OF CRAP AND SQUEEZE EVERYTHING INTO AN L.A. RENTAL APARTMENT. And I’m not allowed to lift more than 10 pounds until September.
The comparison between these two lists kind of makes me want to drink myself into a coma and pass out on the steps of Smithsonian Castle. But I do have a pretty goddamned great list of the things I’ve done while I lived here:
- Worked on a U.S. Congressional campaign (from that time my cousin Adam ran as the Democratic candidate in VA-1).
- Visited all the Smithsonian museums, sometimes even getting paid to give tours.
- Lived on Capitol Hill. Like right on Maryland Avenue, no foolin’.
- Lived in Arlington, close enough to the National Cemetery (during the Bush administration) to hear taps in the still of the morning more often than felt reasonable.
- Been invited to the White House, as a guest, to greet a foreign dignitary. Therefore: Have occupied the same space as President Obama and (at the time) Secretary Clinton. I took pictures. It was great.
- Have on two separate occasions been close enough to Defense Secretary Colin Powell that I could have grabbed his butt. I OBVIOUSLY DIDN’T, but both times it crossed my mind that I theoretically COULD.
- Been in a room with Joe Biden. Too far away for us to lock eyes and recognize our shared humanity, but still good.
- Stood at the foot of every major monument and felt feelings of awe and patriotism and purpose and responsibility.
- Visited the Korean War Memorial at night enough times.
- Spotted senators and cabinet members in neighborhood restaurants. (Usually it was Secretary of the Interior Ken Salazar, and usually he was wearing a bolo tie.)
- Birthed a baby at Sibley Memorial Hospital! That’s an advanced achievement.
- Lived, for a brief time, in the attic of a house in Alexandria that was older than the whole country. (Just by a couple years. It smelled like Revolution up in there.)
- Commuted on my bike through the Capitol grounds and down Pennsylvania Avenue. (I never managed to ride the bike back UP Capitol Hill, though. That was a life goal that I couldn’t quite manage at the end of any given work day.)
- Soaked in so many of the moments, saying to myself or to Andy, “How is this our life?”
Washington and its surrounding environs has been wonderful to us, and now it’s time for what’s next.