where's my dough? and, where's my dough?

Jesus loves Wikileaks

That is the most interesting bumper sticker I saw on the road during vacation. I have no idea how to interpret it, but there you go.

For the most part (more on that later), we had a gas in Maine. Old Orchard Beach is a “kitztchy” (L’s word) throw back to the 1950s; updated to a more tattoo’d and rebellious teen and family crowd for the 2010s. It was an easy place to let the kids wander whilst eating ice cream, exploring, crowd watching, and (for G., especially) diving endlessly into breaking ocean waves. As for the adults, we relaxed endlessly while taking turns making sure kids didn’t get washed out to sea. We did most of our cooking at home, but did go out opening night for some fried clams and fish. Friday night included an adult outing for a ‘fancy’ dinner at Fore St. in Portland. If I could design a restaurant room and style – this is it. Big open room, lots of windows, 33 tables, cooking area right in the dining area…most excellent. They need to work on their non-meat (or fish) options, that would mean including some since they really had what might be classified as zero, but the preparation and dining was a solid A.

One the way home on Saturday (it was only the 51 in the car; X flew back and the boys were dropped off at camp), I discovered that my local bank, who I really like, had cut off my debit card due to suspicious activity. That suspicious activity was…me. In Maine. About 600 miles away. They did process three or four transactions on Friday, and then, bam…shutdown. We didn’t find this out until Saturday around 2p while attempting to buy lunch at Rein’s Deli in Connecticut. Being a local, they all close at noon on Saturday and there is no 800 number or 24-hour line to confirm the charge and get the card turned back on, and they don’t open again until Monday at 9a. Not good. Luckily, L. is a money hound and had $62 in her wallet (I had nothing) so we were able to get one more tank of gas and blast all 630 miles to the house. (We had a pre-paid hotel via Expedia for that night but food and whatnot would have been an issue.) Needless to say, the bank got a call, we straighten out the suspicious charge, and I asked them to always have my cell as contact before leaving me stranding somewhere in central New York state.

I introduced L. to Micucci’s in Portland, but more importantly to Stephen Lanzalotta who bakes bread and pizza in a corner of the store/warehouse. Even though X claims to have had bread this good somewhere in Italy, he makes the best bread I’ve ever had and if you don’t like that – fight’s on! We must have stopped in three times to stock up with luna bread, a few slices of pizza (un-fucking-believable), and focaccia.

I also had a lovely hour or so in an actual music shop in Portland, which is sort of like 7 hours in dog years, or Todd years. I miss CD store so much; I get it where I can. Speaking of hauls, I suggest some Tourista by Josh Rouse if you’re looking for some Spanish and Spanish-infused pop to relax with on a summer day with the windows open.

New job this week. Getting all the administration settled and will get to it full-time next week.

nothing much of much

One more bit on Fermor, from Hitchens. There is one potent literary combo.

We're all settled and sitting about Maine for the week - weather a I can deal with on the heat scale.

Very interesting to be unemployed for a week.

T

walk on

I don’t remember how I first came across Patrick Leigh Fermor. If I had to place a bet, I think it was when I stumbled across a book, Ill Met by Midnight, in the only English-language bookstore in Chania, Crete. It must have been around 1996, or so. After a little research, I discovered A Time of Gifts and Between the Woods and the Water – his two volumes relating his walk across Europe just prior to WWII (and which were impossible to find stateside until about five years ago). I was completely enthralled. I don’t know if it was time and place, being on Crete a lot back in those days, or some strange dream of being an agent of the Empire that caught my attention. Regardless of how it happened, he became a heroic figure for me. And, he was born 50 years, to the day, before I was. He did lots. I just drive to work.

Fermor died this week in England, at 96. I always imagined I’d stumble across him someday in Greece. As if that would happen.

lean just a bit, kids. it'll miss us...

There’s ongoing sarcasm on The Hilltop when it comes to self-diagnosing via the Internet. The latest episode was X trying to Google© her way into figuring out what’s wrong with her left shoulder. Of course, the result of this was someone pointing out to her that there’s no reason to internet your way to health when you have Dr. Sam available to give you a professional, and correct, consultation. Why the obsession with figuring this stuff out on your own? Then again, she also researched how to get the family of raccoons out of our roof/attic. That was more successful. I guess I’m good with raccoons, not so much with health…or weather. (By the way, to get raccoons out all you need is some Led Zeppelin and a 100-watt light bulb.)

We had some quick, powerful storms roll through over the weekend – I think it all happened while I was at a play on Sunday (more on that later). I find out today, from someone I’ll call “Brian”, that there were serious tornado warnings up in the Baltimore area - the kind of stuff where the radio and emergency broadcast system are telling everyone to take shelter. (“Brian” was in Baltimore.) Fortunately, he took a look at the radar picture on his smart phone and correctly ‘assessed’ (on a 2”x4” screen) that they were a safe distance from disaster. This is also one of those times when your certificate from fifth-grade weather class doesn’t actually gain you AMS certification. If something bad had happened, and we’re glad it didn’t, the interview with “Brian” and the local news reporter, begun shortly after the house was spun off towards Kansas, would have been pure gold.

The 51 took in The 25^th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee at Keegan on Sunday. It was a romping good time and L. participated on stage as one of the four volunteer spellers. She hung around with cast and crew for about the first 30 minutes of the show, while correctly spelling the two words they allowed for each contestant before eventually having to get them off the stage via an impossible-to-spell word. The last volunteer, when it was his time to go, was given his killer word, which he ended up spelling correctly. Quite funny. As he went to sit back down on the stage with the actors, the “proctor” called him back up immediately. “Yes, Mr. Ed. It’s your turn again, already.” I think he only said two letters for whatever word he was given before getting the bell for a wrong spelling, and was promptly escorted from the stage.

We are in the midst of getting ready for vacation. This also entails X sorting, buying, and packing up and endless checklist of items for the boys’ camp. They’ll be doing their first camp for the two week following our week in Maine. My checklist in the old days simply included: sleeping bag and OFF! This camp requires a sub-contract from REI and four pages of stuff.

Oh, and some kid executed a hit-and-run on Galactica on Saturday afternoon. Fortunately, two people got the license plate and his father was promptly notified by D.C. Police that his car was involved in said hit-and-run. Dad was none too happy and immediately offered up his insurance to pay for repairs. And, I suspect, is still in the process of teaching his progeny some lessons. Both the driver and rear passenger doors are inoperable so we’ll probably be with a rental care for our journey up north.

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.

olden rock band

oy yay!

We had a big swearing-in with the Virginia Supreme Court yesterday. Well, X did, I just sat in the guest section and tried to lean into as many ‘swearing in’ home photos as possible. I’ll probably end up in about two dozen mantelpiece photos of Johnny or Diane getting sworn into the bar of this court and the courts of the Commonwealth. The ceremony was nice, short, and sweet with about 200 lawyers joining the ranks of the bona fide.

We drove down to Richmond on Sunday afternoon, did a bit of shopping, and then checked in at The Jefferson downtown. As far as high-end hotels go – excellent. The lobby is more than grand with massive furniture and everything you’d expect at the top hotel in a southern capital, aside from guys named Boss yelling out things like, “I will not be to the Senate floor until 3 o’clock. I’m at the Jefferson. Unless I get that four-lane road to Minniville, you will not be seeing your new dock.” (Try reading that with a more southern, gentlemanly accent.) Dinner was at Lemaire (in the hotel) on Sunday night. Brilliant food. Garden out back for fresh ingredients. Excellent service. Big room, nice space, no music, quiet but not library like. Also, the bar within the restaurant is beautifully appointed (Hendricks and tonics). I opened with the beer battered blue prawns presented with a great tomato and jalapeno sauce (seemed more a chipotle to me…), easily an A. X had the special: fried green tomatoes with a shrimp succotash made with fresh veg from the back garden. Aside from being a bit over-peppered, it rated well. I had the halibut for an entrée and X pulled the fettuccini; again, both were beautifully presented and without any missteps. As with any fancy dinner, we look to bread and coffee as the first/final measure: the first thing they give you, the last thing out the door. Both were very good. (We sort of split a peanut butter cheesecake/chocolate dessert.) For wine, it was a Santorini (Greece) dry white that about knocked both of us on our collective arses. Very tasty; very strong. (I just did some research and its 13.7% alcohol; versus a Chateau Ste. Michelle Riesling, that’s popular on the Hilltop these days, at about 12%.)

The shopping and funky side(s) of Richmond were impressive. There’s an an area out west, Carytown, that has about eight blocks of unique (and locally-owned) shops that managed to pry loads of cash from our bank accounts. Our lunch at Can Can in Carytown yesterday was superb: the roasted pepper and gruyere quiche, beet salad, frites, and ice tea – all exceptional. Hard to know about the rest of the lunch/dinner menu since we were limited to the mid-afternoon café menu.

We are already planning another trip down with the whole clan in late summer or early fall. I think we also found our new couch. Items that get Richmond props: good bookstores, good coffee, good food, nice shops (no chains in town, for the most part), nice hotel, short drive. Top marks all around.

I’ll leave you be.

(The kids survived our absence.)
(The cats survived our absence.)

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.

haircut 100

There was an interesting review of the new Steve Earle CD on MusicHeads this week. The actual musical review isn’t so important, as is something David Campbell pointed out when thinking/hoping about your favorite artists: you always want each offering to match the high point of their career and how it tied into your life. Unfortunately, it never lasts. In Earle’s case, he’s had three different musical careers: before incarceration, after incarceration (but prior to 2004), and the current run. For me, his post incarceration albums (I Feel Alright, El Corazon, The Mountain, Transcendental Blues, and Jerusalem) were the best run of his career. Since 2004, there’s some stuff I like, some I don’t. Same with Lucinda Williams; she had a brilliant run (Car Wheels, Essence, World Without Tears), but her last three have done little for me. Springsteen up to 1980. The (first four) Slobberbone albums. Yet, I keep hitting the lever expecting some return to the magic that first got me hooked. It never happens. We’d be better if we could let go of the artists and keep the time, or that part of our life, intact. Maybe I should simply pare down all the great stuff from each artist into one playlist and let the remainder slip away.

Speaking of slipping away, one of my two barbers has moved on to a shop he’s opening in Annapolis. Too far for my blood, but it was a good five-year run. I at least have one left at the old shop so all’s not lost. I hate losing barbers. (Have you seen my hair? Not everyone can make me looks this good.) If you live in Annapolis, his new place will be called Capistrano and it’s apparently right downtown.

I just came across this:

This is the best the USDA can do? I’m glad that what they’ve decided as their campaign is a plate that signifies kids should keep all their food separate and compartmentalized. And, the milk goes in a cup. Honestly, I don’t know what campaign would work, so maybe I should zip it, but we’ve decided that eating colors is the only real answer. If it’s colorful, eat it. If not, stay away. The do win with the last of the seven bullet points: drink water.

We are on the road for part of one more weekend. We’ll be down in Richmond on Sunday, and overnight until Monday, for an event. I think we’re staying in a nice hotel – I’ll try to act civilized. I may be forced to have pizza prepped for the heathens before we leave on Sunday morning. I think they can manage heating and eating.

going up

It seems like we get more than our share of teeter-totter events around this area. Maybe it’s the Beltway and the politics that bring out the disobedience in the youth, maybe not. Over the weekend we had our second round of silent dancers doing a memorial (I think the last occurrence was a few years back at the Lincoln Memorial). I’m mixed on the idea: silent dancing vs. interfering with others? The debate seems to be multi-faceted in that it’s hard to sort out whether the issue with police is really about protest, or a lack of a permit to protest. Maybe those are the same thing. I guess that if you’re silent, and not blocking or inhibiting anything, you shouldn’t need a permit. You can read the two posts at dcist.com (here and here). If push came to shove, I have no problem with silent dancing. If I were doing a tango or a waltz, that’d be okay, wouldn’t it?

One more thing for everyone to discuss. I have major issues with our slow and crappy elevators at school. Primarily: people who get on at floor 6, push the button for 7, and we already have 8 and 9 activated. Dude, fucking walk. Go to 8 and walk down a flight of stairs. That way you won’t even have to walk up the flight of stairs you should have walked up before pissing me off. Or, 8 of us get on at the ground floor and the first three floors selected are 6, 8, and 9. Some dude getting in with us hits 7 – and I punch him in the face. This doesn’t matter, does it? Of course, I work on the 12^th floor so stopping at every, single floor is beyond painful.