The first Mr. Chung-Kohn

This past Friday, Cathy agreed to let me become her first husband. There was an opening and my credentials were stellar. With Rahm Emmanuel already married, both of the most qualified Jews on the DC market are taken. Sorry ladies.

Cathy's father, in an act of filial understanding, told her that he would be ok if we were married by a "Jewish Priest."

Luckily, my folks rescheduled their trip down to DC to this weekend, where, if all goes according to plan, the entire Kohn clan (Sherry, Lee Kohn, Rebekah, Alex) will go out to lunch with the entire Chung clan (Mr. & Mrs., Dan, Andrea, Audreybaby). No doubt, there will be awkward silences followed by loud Jewish aural blasts from the Kohn side of the table. That is how our people ROLL. We are heading to a Korean restaurant. I have told my dad I will have a print out of directions to the nearest burger place where will go IMMEDIATELY following our lunch.

People keep pestering me about how I popped the question. In order to save myself breath, here is how it all went down:

Friday night was a cloudy, wet, overcast evening. I had spent the afternoon talking with Cathy's folks and convincing them that:

A: I would be good husband material (Qualifications: I can cook a mean kim chi kugel, I learned the four questions at an early age, and, at my bris, I hardly shed a tear and lifted my foreskin triumphantly, clenched fist raised towards the sky.)

and

B: It would be unwise for me to take 10 pounds of marinating Korean short-ribs home with me.

I had a ring burning a hole in my pocket and nagging voice in my head saying, "Stop being a bitch. Ask her now."

I knew Cathy did not like public spectacle, so, I would have to go low-key. My being a romantic, and a lover of the movie Meathballs, I was pushing for something that involved long distance running and camp. However, the weather wasn't working in my favor. My sister tried to get me to hide the ring in a sausage, but we all know that Cathy loves sausage more than she loves me, and we would have never seen the ring again. I was thinking of hiding the ring in a pile of vintage clothes, but Cathy would have seen it and sold it at the store for $40 (plus tax).

So what did I end up doing? You know what, I don't think I am going to tell y'all. Next time you see me, just ask. The breath is worth it and the story is cute. In the end, Cathy shed a few tears and said yes. Or I think she said yes. All I know for sure is that there will be sausage at the wedding (beef) and that all guests will get a 10% discount at the shop.

The visitors

My folks are coming down on Saturday. If anybody is curious as to what they look like in person, keep your eyes peeled to the area around 14th and T. If you are focused, you will probably catch my mother and I speed walking to some destination unknown and Cathy and my father slowly trailing a block or two behind, eating french fries.

Blueberries Hill

How I miss summer. I can't wait to get back on the road in the warm weather.

I secretly recorded this short clip of Cathy last year when we were staying in a little cabin on a low-bush blueberry farm in Maine. This is my own version of Watergate, except the only thing I am exposing is my lovely girlfriends digestive habits. No doubt, this is the end of a long and lovely relationship.

We would wake up every morning, pick enough blueberries to make you sick, and eat them with milk and granola. It was heavenly. Cathy did not want me to post this and says "if I (cathy) don't become queen of dc because of it then you are at fault." Sorry dear. I will make you a crown out of paper clips and gum drops.

The recording is low, so turn it up. For those hard-of-hearing, the text is as follows:

(footsteps)
Cathy: Let's go down, er, want to go up the to the hill first? Er, no, Let's get berries.
Cathy (whispering): (mumbles something that can't be made out, I wish I knew what she said. Any ideas? )
Me (laughing): ok
Cathy (whispering): And then we'll get more on the way back.
Cathy (whispering): And then I'll poop in my pants.
Me: Classy
Cathy: mmm-hmmm