Corey & Stacie: The Griswolds Take DC

My dad calls us The Griswolds to strangers.

It's funny when they miss the reference as did one Renaissance street performer:

"Ahhhh, the Fahmily Griswold!"

So these are my dawgs. My mom, dad, sister Katie and Corey. As in Corey & Stacie. As in my significant other.

Doesn't he look so JCrew with his loafers? He's in the middle of asking me what I'm doing.

I'm walking backwards haphazardly.

This was the beginning of a very long, hot day. We were on our way to Ford's Theater to find out we have to come back at 2pm.

Notice how happy and dry everyone looks? These are not the same people I saw six hours later.

We made our way to what I declared as my favorite museum, the Museum of Natural History. Close second: a tie between the art museum with its Norman Rockwell exhibit and the Holocaust museum, which was scary good.

I forgot how much I like dinosaur bones.

This is the third time I posed with Mr. T. Rex.

True story: when I was in preschool we learned about dinosaur bones. Our teachers buried a bunch of small (real?) bones in the sand box and took us all out to "excavate." My friends found bones and I found none. I spent the next few years digging through every sand box I came across looking for bones (and China starting in kindergarten).

I would have spent more time looking at this interesting specimen, but there's just something about a parade...

...and sailors.

The magic may or may not happen here. But that's a topic banned from this blog.

I mean politics. Just so we're clear. Sickos.

Corey's great-aunt worked here at the FBI building, bustin' chops and wranglin' suspects.

That could be inaccurate.

We finally made our way, sweaty and tired, to Ford's Theater where I took my time perusing the goods in the museum while Corey and Katie whined about being tired/hot/hungry/etc. Some people just don't appreciate old junk.