We left DC Monday morning, but not before I stocked up at Astro Donuts over Karen's protestations: "I don't like donuts." Now, I regard that with a bit of skepticism because to say you don't like donuts is like saying you're ambivalent about oxygen. Anyway, they're good donuts. They come in flavors like créme brûlée, PB&J, and Brooklyn blackout. I got four. Karen ate two on the way to the next stop she never imagined herself visiting: the air & space museum.
Not the little one on the mall, but the big, triple-hangared one out by Dulles. Under one roof, they've got a Blackbird, a 707, a Concorde, a B-29, and about 200 other exhibits. There's US, Soviet, Nazi, and Imperial war craft. There's stunt planes and ultralights and gondolas. There's women astronaut make-up kits that I guess are incredibly fascinating. That's Karen posing with the Space Truck, 'cuz they got one of those, too.
So we drive south, right into Bonnie. Tropical Depression, as a name, works on so many levels. But Karen saw the sign for the tunnel-bridge ahead: "What's a tunnel-bridge?" And then we're zooming across, meters above the water, before plunging into a tunnel for a mile and re-emerging on the bridge. "Oh! Tunnel-bridge!" Mind blown.
Then the she-crab soup. Yes, I explained why the soup has a gender and she's totally fine with that. All I know is, given the number of restaurants serving it, the Chesapeake boasts the largest population of single male crabs on the planet.
But then the biggest surprise of the night happened: we're sitting on a patio bar, staying out of the downpour, when the Sharks-Penguins game came on. Karen loved how fast it was, and even suggested we go see a match. We'll have to wait for next season, of course, but who knew?
Donuts, the Space Truck, tunnel-bridges, she-crab soup, and hockey. I should get her out of Palo Alto more often.
Not the little one on the mall, but the big, triple-hangared one out by Dulles. Under one roof, they've got a Blackbird, a 707, a Concorde, a B-29, and about 200 other exhibits. There's US, Soviet, Nazi, and Imperial war craft. There's stunt planes and ultralights and gondolas. There's women astronaut make-up kits that I guess are incredibly fascinating. That's Karen posing with the Space Truck, 'cuz they got one of those, too.
So we drive south, right into Bonnie. Tropical Depression, as a name, works on so many levels. But Karen saw the sign for the tunnel-bridge ahead: "What's a tunnel-bridge?" And then we're zooming across, meters above the water, before plunging into a tunnel for a mile and re-emerging on the bridge. "Oh! Tunnel-bridge!" Mind blown.
Then the she-crab soup. Yes, I explained why the soup has a gender and she's totally fine with that. All I know is, given the number of restaurants serving it, the Chesapeake boasts the largest population of single male crabs on the planet.
But then the biggest surprise of the night happened: we're sitting on a patio bar, staying out of the downpour, when the Sharks-Penguins game came on. Karen loved how fast it was, and even suggested we go see a match. We'll have to wait for next season, of course, but who knew?
Donuts, the Space Truck, tunnel-bridges, she-crab soup, and hockey. I should get her out of Palo Alto more often.
