No worries at all. Just give us DC restaurants and we will forgive all.And so with their children dispersed to different camps, my friend and her husband are in Washington with entirely too many recommendations for the number of days they have there. Today came a one word text with uncharacteristically effusive punctuation.
Guapo's is where my husband and I had our first date, a restaurant I offered up to him as a place one could get authentic Mexican food. While we ate, he told me he was leaving the States in two months. Before those two months were up, his plans had changed, and two months after that, we were planning a wedding.
Ask to see the Fiesta Room! We had our rehearsal dinner there!
Is it upstairs?Yes!
They told us it's closed. Perhaps I'll get lost.
Our rehearsal dinner was all the silly out of our system: traditional star piñatas loaded with nonsensical fake diamond rings (bride) and army parachute men (groom), a margarita machine, enthusiastic and terrible dancing. My cousin Harry gave a toast that doubled us with laughter, and my father and his brothers charmed the daylights out of everyone.
The next day's affair was suitably solemn, High Church and all, save for the wink to the night before just at the end: La Bamba as the recessional.
The salsa there is ridiculous.
Go enjoy your lunch. I'm having blueberries and leftover puerco. Booooo.
Yes. Gotta go. M was checking email. He's done now. Hugs, friend.
And then forty-five minutes later, the photo below and another enthusiastic one word text.
Fiesta!!!!My friend indeed. Amiga del alma even.