have you got a penny?

A few weeks ago, while driving about town, H asked X why we eat like peasants if she and I make ‘so much’ money. Peasants? Have you eaten at my house? Regardless, I think the question was driven by the fact that I do soup and bread once a week – usually it’s a heavier soup with some veg, beans, potatoes, served with the mandatory massive hunk of bread. I like soup; I have an awesome soup tureen and ladle. H likes soup primarily because as a teenager he can put it in his mouth. Apparently, the discussion evolved into jesting about using potatoes for food, and how it must be the only food if we are eating like peasants. What if the King shows up and requires his payment from the peoples? Since we only have potatoes (see how this is coming around?), we must have to save at least one potato to pay our tax. The great tax potato: “Oh no, we’ve eaten the tax potato!” When the two knuckleheads got home and relayed this monkey-chatter story to L, the entire house broke out into the snark you’ve come to expect from this crew: the great Tax Potato Laff Fest of 2013. You should have to live in my shoes.

I did my last Open House at the New School over the weekend – they have four or five a year where potential students and their parents visit for a look about the place. I’ve always enjoyed taking families around and giving them a tour of the classrooms and introducing them to the teachers. As has been put out there over the years, I don’t think I could create a place better than the New School. It’s not perfect, but it’s close. L’s time there has been wonderful – even though stress in high school is unavoidable – and I don’t know that she’d be where she is without the school. I’ll miss it when she finishes.

life chugs along

A month? I’m lazy. Here’s what needs to be known about the last two months: L is sorted out after college visits and will be attending the University of Mary Washington next year. It’s about an hour down the road in Fredricksburg, VA and has a very strong creative writing concentration in the English department. She visited Goucher (near Baltimore) twice, Mary Washington (twice), and The New School in New York after acceptance letters arrived. In the end, a great battle of the minds came down to Goucher and Mary Washington. Both schools are very good, and both offer the concentration in writing that she desires; but, Mary Washington offers a bit broader catalog of classes and a few more options than Goucher. It’s about 4,440 students, as well as a Virginia state school which saves all involved a nice chunk of change over the private fees at Goucher. I loved both places, but with so little separating them it didn’t make sense to spend the extra money. She’ll be very happy at UMW. Hard to believe that I’m involved in any of this – she used to be so small. She’ll graduate on June 8^th and shortly thereafter head to Vienna for a weeklong vacation of eating schnitzel and pastries;  that’s immediately followed by our week up in Vermont at the end of June. She’ll no doubt disappear out to Victoria, BC for a good part of July, and eventually return to get ready for her life at college. (The picture above was drawn by one of her classmates and will serve as part of her page in the school’s yearbook). We have settled into a strange run of Spring weather, but the garden is looking fine and the veg garden is going in – from X’s seeds – this weekend. She spent last weekend on the driveway building five raised garden frames that were promptly soaked by two-and-a-half days of rain. I think she wants to paint them blue so here’s hoping for a few more days of drying weather. I’ll catch up on other doings shortly.

All are alive. All is well.

no no starbuck

L. brought to our attention last night that she needed to be introduced to coffee. Can a parent dream?

After a quarter of often falling asleep in her first mod class, Political Theory, she decided it best to begin an early path to addiction. We thought about it over dinner and discussed some other possibilities: going to bed earlier (she's often up past 11), a bit more of a morning meal (she eats small in the AM), or possibly a snack upon arrival at school (she does walk about 1.5 miles in the morning). All seemed reasonable options in place of caffeine. Then again, X did came up with the idea of a cappuccino with loads of frothy milk - made by stove top each morning as she nibbled on her toast. Not a bad plan; caffeine and some protein. Tonight we went through the process of getting out the moka pot, running the checklist and prepping for day one. You know what? One sip and she says, "I think I'll just go to bed earlier."

Learning.

collections of things

I try to get out as often as possible - there aren't many  venues in D.C. that I haven't seen/done/did. Last weekend the 61 headed to the Philips Collection for an amble and coffee. I've certainly been missing quite a bit: it's a fantastic collection that fits nicely into my top list of doable-sized museums. As X pointed out after about 75 minutes, the eyes and mind begin to glaze. We ejected to the courtyard cafe and drank coffee on a coolish (by August standards) D.C. morning. Truth be told, joining the Collection would be well worth it to simply have free access to what is a very nice cafe in the midst of DuPont Circle. I'll be checking the cost.

As a last DuPont aside, the single CD store in the greater D.C. area that I routinely 'clacked clacked' music in has finally shuttered. I've bitched about this before so I won't get too deep, but it's horribly depressing. I do have an exchange in my area that stocks mostly used with the occasional new release hidden amongst the gems. I always feel a little more complete when I wonder into the dusty bins.

After the Philips we wandered a few bookstores in search of who knows what - I bought a 1932 edition of a 'Games' book that covers more than one person needs to know. What we immediately learned that night is that what we play as Charades is officially called Burlesque. I'm fairly sure the adults will be much more interested in gaming if the rascals are screaming about a Burlesque in the living room.



As we plan for the next bit of time off I'm gathering information for NYC - we going to be in the city for four days/three nights in early November. We are staying at an Army base hotel in the southern portion of Brooklyn (Bensonhurst) and will train into Manhattan in the AMs. We've already booked a journey to north (?) Brooklyn to visit some legendary bar owned by one of X's boss' family; it looks stunning in the bar (and grill) tapestry of America. I think, speaking of tapestry, we are planning on a shot up to The Cloisters during the weekend; together with a visit to the New School for L., that's the current agenda. Input appreciated and desired on other hot spots. (I'm already deep into checking on music venues....)

Lastly, prior to our collection visit and bookstore journey we stopped at the beloved Litteri's for a sandwich and fixings for pizza night - pepperoni, great cheese, etc. The crew knows L. at the deli counter and as she headed from the deli to find some more balsamic, the king of the deli looks at me and says, "She knows her stuff. Never gets anything cheap," I created this, don't I know it...

hairspray

L. has her prom tomorrow - the New School does an all H.S. prom - so I asked her if she wanted a hair do' to get ready. She consented, quicker than I thought, and we headed to my barber shop today for a quick clip. I know what you're saying to your screen (and the letter you are composing), "Why are you taking that lovely girl to your barber shop? Have you seen your hair?" Well, I respond with this: she's been there before and all she really wants is to get the ends trimmed; nothing more, nothing less. Unfortunately, my last remaining barber was off today (mark that down), and there were about 10 people waiting. After placing a call to my girlfriend/salon guidance counselor at work, we ended up at an actual salon in McLean. Wow. Wow. Nice place, lots of lovely women getting the hair done, lots of wine flowing, moody music, and an array of stylists that allowed me to create a sitcom in my head during the hour I was waiting for L to get her hair done. There were two male stylists who looked like they had spent most of the 1990s (or the last five years if they were too young back then) studying and perfecting the Michael Madsen downward grimace, look up, too cool guy persona. Even the clothes fit the character. The most important area of interest is that L's hair looks fabulous. The fact that I somehow managed to accidentally get her into a salon chair paid dividends. She's ready to go for tomorrow night. I'll post a few pictures as her and her friends get ready over here tomorrow - whilst eating homemade burgers and fries.

Seven days until vacation. Oh, and a new job. I'm moving the last Monday in June to a new company here in the area. Details to follow.

herding cats

The end is near; or, the crazy has set in.

Over the last few months, Pumpkin has taken to only drinking running water at the bathroom sink. We’re not sure what drove him this direction, but he only seems to want running water and has banished the bowl, well, aside from his strange habit of drinking stagnant water from plant base dishes. The problem in the heat of summer and I want to make sure he’s drinking enough and he can’t/won’t drink unless it’s from the faucet; he’s out of luck during the day. After listening to an episode of the Animal House on NPR, I learned that cats suffer kidney problems most often and hydration is very important – not only water, but with food. In order to remedy my concerns – and his peccadilloes – I’ve bought them wet food for evening meals and….a moving water drinking dish. The problem now is that both cats are bugging out: Lemon doesn’t want to get near it, Pumpkin will dabble nearby. And, it makes some noise while moving the water so neither is too sure about that event. So, we have the moving water dish AND the old, standard water dish nearby. These are top drawer cats.

This is my life:

L. is working on her registration for school next year and the course offerings are so cool. I’ll post a selection of her courses once they are finalized. As with us all, her junior year will be the hardest. We’ve gotten her into a year-long Honors English/Literature class, she’s going to move into French for two years (from German), and some serious History and World Studies courses are on tap.

I’m digging around from a ride to NYC at the end of the summer; L wants to head up for a weekend and wander Manhattan. I was thinking of the Acela Express, but it’s much more expensive than I thought, and certainly more than flying JetBlue into JFK. We could take the regular Amtrak (I really want to train up) and make the schedule work out fine. The next step will be sorting out a place to stay: I’m contemplating both the Pod Hotel and the military hotel in Manhattan.

Two weeks until vacation. Keep count with me.

Time is flying by.

We’ve begun the ‘bar review and flashcard’ process on The Hilltop. I’m once again in the midst of learning about life estates and fee simple stuff. Of course, I’m in it purely for the enjoyment factor – I think X is more serious.

L. and I headed into D.C. on Saturday morning for the orchid exhibit at the Museum of Natural History. The crowds were sparse, as we hoped, so we were able to take in the four small rooms with little interference. It is amazing was a cold, February morning will do for comfort levels in the Smithsonian. We hit a bookstore later and then lunch before she headed off her own way (to the National Building Museum and the Freer Gallery) while I headed into Black Watch at the Sidney Harman Hall (my birthday gift from X). Black Watch is a play on tour by the National Theatre of Scotland and takes place during a deployment of the Black Watch to Iraq. There’s obviously a bit more history in play throughout the show but the heart of it is the path that leads Scottish boys/men to the Black Watch and the deep connection they have to their fellow members; an impressive show. And, the Harman Hall is a spectacular place for a production.

We managed pizza night last night and most stayed for about the first half of the Super Bowl. I ended up watching most of the game since X was off to Dulles later in the evening to fetch G., who arrived about 8:30pm from his week in England.

After we all wander through this week we’ll have another big go on Saturday as L. and I see a show as Kennedy Center in the afternoon and then the North Park/Hilltop crowd return to the return of Farrah Olivia for dinner. High hopes.

what doing?

X left a box of spider plants near the curb over the weekend with “free” written neatly on the box. Someone finally took them yesterday but not before removing one plant / pot and leaving it behind as if some type of runt. Needless to say, she found the desertion of a single plant to be heresy. I simply pointed out that maybe her product labeling and directions needed to be more specific.

The weird news over the weekend was that a home that had been under construction down on the corner of the main streets near our house burned down early Sunday morning. I was actually headed out to pick up L. from her slumber party at 1:30am when I came upon it and called 911. By the time we got back it was gone; the firefighters finally wrapped up the fire part about 6 hours later and the investigation seemed to finish up yesterday.

I’ll try to dig up some Halloween photos…I know I’m delinquent.

t

100% manmade

If you’ve been around me on long drives or at holiday gatherings then you’ve heard at least part of this theory. It comes out when I have people trapped and they can’t comfortably escape from either a moving car or a room full of others, just as crazy, folks. For some reason it came up today while L. and I were driving to the Metro and may have followed on from some talk of Euclid and geometry and doing proofs in stone. What? They had paper in the days of Euclid? That will be much funnier in a bit.

I have this crazy position that American History, as taught in both our high schools and colleges (remember the classes American History to 1865 and American History after 1865 as core courses?), essentially goes like this:

Columbus
Pilgrams
Eli Whitney
The Civil War
Watergate

That’s it. Nothing more. If you try to draw a rudimentary timeline of what happened and how things tie together, based on what we actually teach, you’d find that a lot of Americans would nearly conflate Columbus as tour guide for the Mayflower. Seriously. If he wasn’t Julie the Cruise Director on the same voyage as the Pilgrims than it all happened within a few years of each other. How about if we look at it this way: Columbus = 1492, the Mayflower = 1620. Alright, students, give me a quick run down of what happened, here or worldwide, in that 128-year gapping hole of American learning. I’ll wait.

1513 – Ponce de Leon lands on the coast of Florida
1565 – St. Augustine Florida becomes the first European colony in North America
1607 – Jamestown, first English settlement in America, is established
(Whoa! Where are the Pilgrams?)
1619 – First representative assembly meets in Jamestown. First African slaves arrive.
1620 – Mayflower arrives

Worldwide?

1492 – The Moors conquered in Spain by Ferdinand’s troops
1497 – Vasco da Gama sails around Africa
1503 – Da Vinci paints the Mona Lisa
1509 – Michelangelo paints Sistine Chapel. Henry VIII ascends to English throne
1513 – Balboa sails the Pacific. Machiavelli writes The Prince
1519 – The Reformation starts in Switzerland. Mexico is conquered by Spain. Magellan sets out
1520 – Luther excommunicated
1527 – Rome attacked by troops of the Holy Roman Empire. End of the Italian Renaiassance
1535 – Reformation begins in England. Henry VIII makes himself head of Church of England after being excommunicated by the Pope

…and on and on.

Context.

The problem we have in history is too many dates and mindless trivia. I don’t care if you can give me the year the Mona Lisa was painted but you should have a ballpark figure based on other events. I don’t care if you know the exact dates of the American Civil War but you should say something like the mid-19th century. What we should also be able to do is recognize what’s happening around the world that affects, or affected, what happened here. I think that Henry VIII thing might be important.

And yes, I used Wikipedia.com….sue me. But, I’m a product of the system, I love history, I’ve read quite a bit (not so much American), and it’s all quite shallow even to me. When you don’t have any stuffing to prop open a space it simply collapses upon itself.

In the end, you wonder why Eli Whitney didn’t just bring a cotton gin over on the Mayflower with Columbus.

Dismissed.

sunrise

Well, well. All the girls have been re-herded to the house. L. arrived on Tuesday evening and is safely ensconced back in her room and at the New School.

X. also came home from the hospital on Tuesday afternoon – about 24 hours after her surgery. Truckloads of stuff rolled through my head while she was in the hospital: love, fear, anger. When they called me into the recovery area, after they were done cutting and tugging at her, I cried to finally see her again. She was frail, groggy, and googly-eyed as she came out of her twilight. She recognized me right away and asked me if they were done. Had it happened? I told her it was over and she was safe once again. She closed her eyes and slept for ten more minutes. Too many things to process when thinking about it all. For that, it’s said much better by her sister here and here.

She’s home. She’s still very sore but she’s recovering. Another few weeks and she’ll be (bionically) as good as new.

Days are back.

hey snakeface! you the devil.

My blog-cation is over. Even though it wasn’t planned, nor announced, for some reason I didn’t have much to pass along during the blast of mid-August weather. Everything’s been quite well here, I’m through my mid-terms, and the final weekend of summer is on the horizon.

Let’s see if I can summarize my positions on the political events of our day.

Build a mosque wherever you please. It’s private ground, it’s a house of worship (a community center with a mosque in it, really) and that right is protected. Any further engagement is folly. If you really want to know why there’s nothing more to say on the matter I refer you to this educational video (please forward to the seven-minute mark): you don’t engage them.



Freedom of speech means you can say whatever you please without government interference. It doesn’t mean you can say whatever you please and not expect backlash from the market, your bosses, and people who don’t like you. A very simple concept.

I think that covers most of it. We can all relax now.

As August wraps up, and a three-day weekend is on the horizon, I’ll spend a portion of the week gathering up all my canning needs and getting ready to do tomatoes next weekend. Last year I ended up with about 25 quart jars from 50 lbs of tomatoes and that didn’t even get us close to riding out the winter. Then again, that took about 12 hours and I’m not sure I’m up for two full days of canning. If nothing else, I’ll manage at least as many as last summer. We’re also awaiting some fig bonanza that one of X’s coworkers has promised from his tree. We may need to drive down with a pile of egg cartons and pluck them ourselves: a fig jamboree on the horizon.

L. may have crossed into Canada by now for a month-long, get settled, and sort out living and school vacation. I believe they’ll make one more round-trip to Omaha in October to gather up remaining items. I’ll talk with her tonight and sort out status and location.

I’ll have some more updates after pizza night…

t

so it passes...

Those snaps are X's shade garden along our front walk: May (when planted), June, and July. Quite nice. I took the final picture today as she finished up an afternoon's work in the oppressive swamp heat; and, just before a typhoon-like thunderstorm hit town. I haven't been as habitual with the back shade garden, the veg, or the pumpkin/squash patch. What I can tell you is this: a small deer, who's encountered Pumpkin during a witnessed standoff, has been nibbling on the squash blossoms and my lovely is about ready to get a shotgun and campout on the porch...just waiting and whittlin' and waiting. She did point out, just after her veiled threat, that 'squash blossom-fed venison' might be the hippiest meat you could sell.

We hit D.C. last night for another show and a pre-theatre dinner at Comet Ping Pong. I'd gotten the recommendation from my Mom and after a few weeks it finally aligned for a visit. The pizza is excellent (we had the Softie and the Blossom with smoked mushrooms sub'd for the ham) and both were worth the wait. Speaking of the wait, it was crowded on a Saturday night but we managed to get a bar table that suited us fine. The bartender/waitress got our beers right quick, I went to the bar to order the pizza so as to help out the situation, but we ended up waiting 40 (?) minutes for delivery. Considering they make all the pies individually - including the crust prep - it's understandable on a busy summer Saturday night. But, if that's the norm then management needs to sort out either a better process or get better dudes manning the ovens. Just about any wait will be forgiven to some extent if the product excels, and it did. The prices are a bit steep for the type of joynt - running $50 with tip for the two individuals pizzas and two beers; $38-$40 would seem a bit more reasonable. Overall, I recommend it for no other reason than the pizza crust and great selection of toppings. If you have your heart set on playing some ping pong with the crowd, drinking beers, and hanging out...don't go on Saturday night. The crowd is truly a family set and it's much like what you'd expect in 1977 at a Shakey's pizza in Omaha. I'd imagine that the crowd turns a bit later at night and during the week it might seem more bar like.

After dinner we shot down to DuPont Circle to see Noises Off! at the Keegan. This one takes some patience to develop as it's the first act of a play within a play that's done thrice: first from the front of the house at dress rehearsal for an opening; the second act is about a month later from behind the stage; the third, another month later again from the front of the house. There are loads in ongoing romantic relationships, bad acting, and farce going on that it becomes a bit of comic genius, particularly during the second act. For an opening weekend it was quite polished and enjoyable - and a huge bravo to the cast and crew for working such an active play in a quite warm Church St. Theatre. In particular, Michael Innocenti and Susan Marie Rhea who are probably my two favorite Church St. regulars: they stood out in the heat and comedy.

L. headed back to Omaha on Friday - sans her braces which were removed Thursday - so the house is empty. I don't have my pizza-making assistant for the first time in six months so that's a bit sad. We'll see how her life develops over the next few weeks and where she might end up in the fall.

t

digital garden

I’m not the gardener on The Hilltop but I long ago placed an order with my gardeness that would entail getting rid of the grass and doing a natural garden/native grasses property. I have issues with lawns but I guess if you have kids that like to play in the yard then feel free to carry on. Of course, the number of kids I see actually playing on the lawn might total one or two every year or so. There’s a piece in the WaPo today (with a slideshow) about folk up Maryland-way (just over the District line) that have gone the route of garden vice grass and they look like ideas that are right up my alley; or, at least along the lines of my work order.

A few weeks ago Prince pointed out that the Internet is dead, or useless, or losing it’s mojo. Actually, it was a diatribe partly on music distribution and partly on its influence. I laughed it off as Prince playing his games again and didn’t think about it again until earlier this week. A quick hit from Prince:

The Internet’s like MTV,” [he} said to The Mirror’s correspondent. “At one time, MTV was hip, and suddenly it became outdated.”

My position would substitute “full of use” for hip and “full of crap” for outdated. I had a hard time explaining this in conversation so typing it will be harder. I think the quantity of great stuff the Internet does (research, ordering products, music distribution, publishing, etc.) is growing everyday. But, the percentage of that good is being outpaced by the giga-acres of useless, time wasting, pointless junk (this blog might be a case in point). There’s a bit of a parallel between the Internet now and TV in early ‘90s when we started to hit triple digit channels. What we seem to do nowadays is to start online with the intention of checking in with family and friends (e-mail, Facebook), getting the news, reviewing sports’ scores, and ordering some rugs; suddenly we’re sucked into watching YouTube videos of a kid hitting his dad in the junk with a whiffle bat, a sloth playing a Gretsch, or two episodes of Cops on Hulu.com. I understand that one man’s junk is another man’s gold but my somewhat considered position is that the amount of ‘value’ time spent online vs. the amount of junk time is something like 1:10. Not much different than when you finish watching your favorite TV show and all of a sudden you’re snoring on the couch, in your underwear at midnight, with Telemundo playing on your eleventy-billion inch plasma donor TV. Think about it.

I’m running L. to the orthodontist in a few hours to get her braces taken off. I think I’ll pop some corn tonight and we can sit on the couch and watch some TV….or surf the Web.

Love to all,

T

needs another weekend

It was an interesting and packed weekend.

I have class on Saturday afternoon this quarter, from noon to 5pm, so that cuts a large swath from in the middle of the day. At least I don’t have to be there at 8am and it doesn’t infringe on our evenings. As the kids have (or will soon) departed it’s only the two of us in the house; she can come in with me if need be and do some work at her office. My Saturday (and Friday afternoon) class is Garde Manger so it covers mostly cold dishes like sandwiches, banquet food, appetizers, fancy stuff, etc. To open the quarter we made loads of bread (baguettes, rye, and whole wheat) to freeze and store for use over the next few weeks as we create various canapés and whatnot. Unfortunately, I’m just now beginning Baking and Pastry (Monday – Wednesday evenings) so I was trying to learn and follow along with my teammates: big mistake. Everyone in my class has already had Baking so I figured they’d have some basis for production even if it had been a few quarters ago (there is one guy is quite excellent). As with most things, don’t get too comfortable assuming knowledge resides in anyone’s bean. Of course, we are doing all these breads in Baking over the next three days so my own experience will greatly improve. Our product came out poorly, at best. I might knock out a few extra loaves of each in the bake shop so I can carry them over to the other class.

After wrapping up on Saturday afternoon, the 61 went to dinner in D.C. and then to see One Man Lord of the Rings at Woolly Mammoth. Both of the girls are big Ring fans so I figured they enjoy one guy, dressed only in a jumpsuit and wearing a microphone, running through all three movies in a bit more than an hour. It was very enjoyable, even for a non-Tolkien-only-mostly-seen-the-movies-and-never-read-the-books chaperone. I pointed out to both of them after the show that the movies seemed to me to be mostly marching, running, fighting, and horns a-blowing; when reduced to an hour you’d surely discover that I was mostly correct.

I tried to engage X on what she thought the civil engineering/scheduling plan might be for the Orange line and new Silver line Metro trains once they hit East Falls Church station. She actually left the room mid-query to show her waning interest in that conversation.

The 51 hit Eastern Market early yesterday morning and were enveloped in a heat index of over 90° at 9am. We did stop for crepes before making a few passes through the flea market, art/craft/creation stalls (I’ve now narrowed down my cutting board desires) before gathering up our ingredients in the food hall. We ended up with quite a crowd at The Hilltop for Sunday pizza night last night so I had execute some deep mathematical formulae to figure out if I had enough pie to cover five adults and four children. We managed.

eh, pay

As I was driving home yesterday I ended up at a light behind a car with this personalized plate:

ISITART

For some reason I felt the need to break it up and interpret it multiple ways:

IS IT ART
I SIT ART
IS I TART

That last one being an homage to Ali G.’s “Is you the fox?” (You either know your Ali G. or you don’t.)

Later on, in the same series of events, while driving home after picking up the kids at the Metro I asked them how school went, to which H. replied, “I did good today.” I, of course, said that it should really be “did well,” and he parried with, “no, did good.” It was pretty funny up to that point but got better when L. piped up, in the flow, with, “Did good? Like Superman?” Funny stuff, that.

I read Kitchen Confidential about ten years ago (?) when it first came out we were living in England. That was also about the same time I started to get more serious about cooking. I haven’t watched more than 20 or 30 minutes of Bourdain on TV in all these years but I’ve followed along a bit with his celebrity and career. Confidential was a really cool book that I feel should have been (and still should be, based on the lack of ‘go’ I see in some of my classmates) required reading for anyone considering the career. I bring this up because there’s a great interview with him at Slate.com today; an interview that covers a lot of ground and should also be required reading for everyone – maybe for some life guidance and cooking doctrine. Along with that, it’s an interview that reads very well in text format and that’s pretty rare. (The intro to the interview is also timely since I just baked a strawberry-rhubarb pie last weekend. For the record, I like it.)

I have little idea what’s on tap for the weekend.

in this world

I’ve been remiss over the last seven weeks in not getting L. in to see an orthodontist. I actually did some legwork on this a few months ago at my semi-annual cleaning; I gave them a quick background and I asked them if they had an othro they’d recommend. Conveniently enough, they have one that comes to their office every Thursday to see patients and that seemed like perfect idea for L. She’s about 14-18 months into a two-year program so all we’re looking for are monthly adjustment visits until she returns to Omaha – or wherever – and has them removed.

I finally gave them a call this morning and rehashed the idea with the office manager and queried about getting her in Thursday afternoon. As if. What I unwittingly stumbled into was the maw of the “no people”; you know the tribe – can’t do, won’t get done, that’s impossible, are you fucking crazy? Yes, them. She tells me that he can’t do that kind of work because how could he possibly know (or learn) the inner workings of another ortho? How would he know what her plan was? What if this ortho would have done something different? It CAN’T be done. I pause momentarily before asking her a simple question: Are you telling me that no family has ever moved while having a child in braces? There was a long pause on the line. I followed up with: Do you think people decide not to sell a house and move because Jimmy has three more months in braces and they don’t know about the alchemy of braces in Nebraska yet? I told her that I had the contact information for her man in Omaha and all that needs to be done is to make contact, ask a few questions on the phone (I’m sure the two orthos understand the language), and then set-up an appointment. She takes my number and tells me that she’ll contact their ortho and call me back. Sounds good, I say, so I’ll hear back from you this afternoon? What? No? She tells me that she’ll talk to him on Thursday when he comes in; she is kidding, right? Does this guy live where there’s no phone? Maybe somewhere that requires him to teleport in from another galaxy? They are killing me.

(p.s. I just called back to get the number of the guy and do the work myself but the afternoon woman just said she’d give him a call and call me right back. Go figure?)

I had class on Friday night so I sent The Forty to see Orestes at the Folger Shakespeare Theater (I’d bought the seats about six months ago prior to getting my class schedule and child moving here.) They had a quick dinner in Rosslyn and then Metro’d in to see the show. When they picked me up after class there were great reviews (WaPo review here) from both girls so it appears their night out was a success. I’d taken L. to the Caps’ game the previous night and told her during intermission that she’d be hard-pressed to attend two more different events on back-to-back nights: crazy sports fans in red and a Euripides play.

t

here and there

It’s been awhile since I’ve linked to an article in the NYTimes but this one is just my speed. This is the kind of stuff that gives me hope for engaging dialogue and ideas in the media. Of course, the comments section (I read the first page) is almost as good as the article. I’ve been scanning the news of late with an eye out for pieces that L. can use/review for her post-Cold War history class in school. Between the Times, the New Yorker, The Economist, and The Atlantic, I think we can cover the current world, as well as, its state of affairs over the last 20+ years.

I’m also giving you an entry from an interesting Vblogger, j. smooth, at illdoctrine.com (also moving and using nildoctrine.com); I just came upon him via another blog and I quite like his ideas. This one deals with an NFL player and a little bit of historical reference and clarification.


I’ll be at my last mid-term tonight and then I can settle in for the second half of the quarter and getting to the meats and whatnot.

Hey.

plotting

The kids headed out to school this morning, one by bike and one on foot, with stop #1 being the Metro bus at the bottom of our street. From there they go to the Metro and on to Vienna. The last step is catching the school’s bus that runs them from the metro station to the school’s front door. It was at the ultimate step that some confusion rained down; the two got separated at the end and L. wasn’t sure where the bus picked up the kids. She gave me a quick call and eventually made it to the bus safely but this is more a story about me than about her (or them).

There’s a small bus circuit the runs around Fairfax City (The CUE bus) and it’ll take you from the Metro to the school’s driveway; as long as you know its schedule and map. What I’d forgotten to do – unbelievably – was package up my normal, and overly detailed, guide material containing the bus map, time tables, a map of the bus shelter parking lot, and spare change for L. before the first day of school. (Yes, each item is highlighted and annotated.) X can vouch for my over-planning when it comes to journeys; but it’s good over-planning. The best example was when we met in Barcelona for a week and I showed up with a selection of restaurants, city maps, transit maps, country maps, transit maps, and other assorted items. One impressive bit – if I do say so myself – was our regional train ride from Barcelona to La Garriga for our night at Termes spa. We were catching our train from Placa Catalunya to La Garriga and I’d mapped out the line and times for departure…in laminated form. The stations in Spain – as with most of Europe – don’t necessarily have loads of English instructions laying about the place so you use your experience and trust the timetables even if you’re not sure what the train, or the announcements, say. Our train was leaving from track Red 3 at 3:41pm and arriving in La Garriga about 40 minutes later. We got to the track about five minutes early and when a train pulled in at 3:41, we boarded. I still remember us wondering if we’d done the right thing – what if we ended up Lisbon? – but we both knew it’d work out in the end; that's sort of our travel M.O. The next day we reversed the process from the small, single-track station in the country and simply boarded whatever train was passing through at our appointed time.

The reason I haven't told you this before is because it's not really a story.

drivin' and cryin'

I'm not sure why Andrew Sullivan decided to have a quick debate on bike helmets but I can't help throwing my penny into the jar. I don't have stats at hand - if they even exist - but the helmet isn't necessarily on your headmeat in order to save your life when pummeled by a car that weighs 2,500 pounds. If it works in that situation then consider yourself lucky. The reason you wear a helmet, and it's efficacy, is for when you fall off your bike and hit the pavement; via a rut, a curb, another bike, a tree branch. What the helmet does it keep your head from whacking the pavement, or curb, and scrambling your brain. Think about it this way, if you have your wrist guards on while riding your Schwinn Sting-Ray to the skate park to pull some some googly-footed double ollies and you get run over by a car, those wrist guards aren't much good. On the other hand, if you're whipping a 1080 after you've smoked a sick sash of weed and you smack the edge of the half-pipe and tumble down on your wrists, those guards will do you some good. Car. Fall. Car. Fall. Lesson over.

Speaking of cars. I'm just about at the point where I'm going to quit driving. I don't think I'm a crazy old man, I think I'm a pretty good driver - not perfect, but I can't deal with the idiots that are out and about. Here are are my three golden rules of driving: stay in your lane when turning, use your indicator any time you change direction, slow down in parking lots and if you see reverse lights then slow down even further. I'm not a fan of the "he's backing out and he should be more careful" argument. That's just great when we are both sitting in a parking lot because there's been a collision - that's worth it, isn't it? In most parking lots I can't see around the SUVs and if I'm slowly pulling out of my space and you see my car - stop. (No, I haven't had an accident of late, it's just an ongoing rant.) As for the indicator, it comes from the Greek term "indicate" which means: hey, dumb ass, indicate your intention and I'll do my best to not only not hit you, but possibly accommodate your lane change. It's not so hard. The grand point is this: I'm getting so stressed out by trying to avoid tomfoolery that it's just killing me. I think I'll ride the bus, ride my bike, or have X drive everywhere.

If you didn't know, I no longer have any adolescent progeny - L.'s 13 today so it's nothing but teenagers and up for me.

love to all

t

expedition

Let’s play a little multiple-choice Jeopardy. Here are the possible answers:

A. H
B. G
C. X
D. Kt

Here’s the question, ready your buzzers: When asked why they didn’t sleep soundly on Friday night the response was this: “It must have been the three Jameson’s I had at the strip club.” Good luck.

Our weather here has come out of the freezer yet I see the 40s and 50s forecasted for today might turn to snow showers over the next two nights/mornings. Why I’m telling you this, or why you might be interested in it, is beyond me. If you really wanted to know what the weather is like in northern Virginia you’d probably look it up for yourself on the newfangled internet. The real reason behind my forecast is to pass along a tidbit learned about life on the Hilltop. Our front yard – and by default, the driveway parallel to it – is very steep. I think I paced it off a few months ago because I want to get some degree of climb so I could call Car Talk to find out if going up the driveway really used a lot of gas. (I never called, just so you know.) For the engineers out there I think the length of the climbing portion of the driveway is about 30-40 feet and the footage of gained altitude is probably close to 15-18 feet. Is that possible? Let me know. What we’ve learned is that if there is any indication of snow in the forecast then we need to park in the street well in advance of the dusting. Even with just the first flurries last Tuesday morning, Galactica decided it was easiest to just slide its 3,600 pounds right down the to the street. That’s not a great feeling when just across the street from the foot of the drive sits two or three pick-up trucks working construction at the newly built house of our neighbors. Needless to say, you won’t be driving back up the drive anytime soon. The secondary issue became the Tuesday night/Wednesday morning ice storm that followed, and it was a good one. Even with the grand decision to park in the street it became clear that not shoveling the steps (as if you would in Virginia…) before the ice storm was a mistake. The steps became a deathtrap, walking on the grass/yard that is just as steep as the driveway and covered in snow ice wasn’t an option, nor was attempting to walk up the drive a smart choice. I needed a spelunking set-up and Sherpas to get to or from the front door. The little man in the house took one look outside and decided the best way down to the street was to run from the top of the drive and slide down, while standing up, to the bottom and tumbling into the street over and over again. Ah, youth. X eventually took all the ashes from the fireplace and scattered them about the steps after two days of misery. Suddenly, as if by novelty, the ice melted and traction was restored.

Plans are taking shape for the summer and it looks like L. will be here for a month and we’ll all spend a week up on Lake Memphremagog up in Quebec. After that she’ll be back to the Plains of Nebraska and her first year of high school.

p.s. On Sunday afternoon I witnessed my first Alexander Ovechkin hat trick. It was a blast.