The D to the C

I'm in the Town That Seems to Get Nothing Accomplished, more commonly known as Washington DC.

Here for work, but during the snore-inducing mentally stimulating conference sessions, I am mentally reliving my days as a mad-cap and carefree White House intern. Running amok with my fellow overachievers in the hallowed law-making halls of the government. Getting shooed away from closed doors ("Who's in there?") by Secret Service agents ("Who do you think?") who had no time to spare for flirting interns. Hey, I challenge you not to get a little weak kneed by those black-suited, broad shouldered gents with the fancy earpieces.

We made some visits to Capitol Hill, and I noticed with alarm at how freaking young the current crop of interns appear as they flit about. I was most certainly not that young, was I?

It makes me even more aware of how much trust my parents had in me not to make a complete ass of myself by supporting my short stint in this town. Granted, they did fly across country with me to ensure that I had a safe place to live, and they did walk me to my first day of work. Oh, yes. They did.

And I love them for that.

As much as the memories are fond, and I've enjoyed visiting some new museums and seeing old haunts, I'm more than ready to come home. I miss my boys.