Bring On The Tacos

My husband sent me this graphic along with the caption, “Nailed it!”

Nice, right?

I can’t argue with him about this. I really do love food—the good, the bad, and the ugly. On our first date, I took him to our local pub. I got a burger and he ordered the shepherd’s pie. I was finished with my burger and fries before he had eaten half of his entrée. He still reminds me of this fact even today. In his words, “I had never seen a girl eat like that before—that fast and that much. You inhaled it!”

Needless to say, he’s gotten used to it. It helps I have less days like that since I’m not riding, but it still happens.

Yesterday afternoon I ended up at Chaia in Georgetown. Here’s your Thursday “Hot Tip in the City:” Chaia’s vegetarian tacos are phenomenally delicious. There is nothing better than a handmade tortilla. It’s right up there with a fresh garden tomato in the summer. These are the best tortillas I’ve had in the Virginia/D.C. area. Not only that, it is $4/taco. I had a full belly for eight dollars. That’s almost impossible to do in D.C., anywhere. All of the ingredients were fresh and delicious. It’s a total hot spot for a snack or a delicious casual meal.

Chaia was the only bright side of my day yesterday. I had a laundry list of errands to check off my list and none of them were fun. It started with a follow-up appointment with my surgeon. This wasn’t terrible, but just like a horse that starts spinning in its stall when the vet’s truck rolls in to the farm, I’m a little over doctors right now.

The hospital is a little far out, so it requires a bus ride, a trip on the Metro, and a fair share of walking. All in all, about 45-minutes. It’s not a big deal whatsoever, and I’m super grateful for the public transportation, but it still wears me out in this stage of my recovery. (First world problems!).

After my appointment, I commuted to the DMV. I’m sure everyone knows where I’m going with this already. I’m not one to normally complain about something that people already know and complain about themselves, but it is worth stating—Georgetown DMV is by far the worst DMV I’ve ever experienced. I waited in a long line to get a number, which isn’t unusual, but when I sat down with my customary clip board and receipt, I saw that I was C-124. I looked up at the monitor and saw they had just called C-60.


Sixty-four numbers to go.

I thought there must be a mistake, or maybe the numbers didn’t go consecutively.

There couldn’t really be 64 people in front of me, plus all of the other letter/number combinations on top of that…

Yep. There were.

The numbers did go consecutively. They got through eighteen numbers in the letter-C category in a little over an hour. Doing the math, I would have been stuck there three and a half hours before my number popped up.

To add insult to injury, there was a sign that said no food or drink.


My other experience with the Georgetown DMV was when I titled my car in D.C. It took four trips to get it done. FOUR. I am surprised there isn’t a colloquial phrase like “He went De-em-veed on them” instead of “Going postal!”

I left the DMV because I got hungry (hence, grumpy). Chaia was right next door. It was the silver lining to an otherwise bullshit day.

It made the sting of waiting at the DMV for ninety minutes hurt a little less….

After my snack, I hopped the metro back home, getting off and stopping at the drug store to pick up a prescription. By this time it was late afternoon and I was hot and tired, so I was naturally grumpier (even with a full belly!).

I’m ringing out when the cashier says. “Wait. You need counseling for this prescription.”

I’m thinking “Are you kidding me? Why??” I stand and wait.

The pharmacist comes over and says, “Now you understand you can’t be pregnant and take this, right?”


I looked at him like “You gotta be kidding me.”

He probed further. “You’re not pregnant are you?”

The poor pharmacist. I know he was just doing his job, but he was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

To myself I was thinking, “You do know I’m 47, right?”

Out loud I said, “Yeah, well, I’m missing all of those parts, so I really don’t think that will be a problem.”

I might as well was have told him I just got my period. He backed away slowly like I was about to go “de-em-veed” on him.

Question: If counseling is a thing, then why didn’t I get counseling for the pain medication I was prescribed this summer??

There is an epidemic after all.


The kicker to this long, mostly abysmal day??

Knowing I still have to go back to the DMV, yet again.

At least I know there is a Chaia to lessen the pain…

Bring on the tacos.         

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