green, my ass

It's been a good while since I got a parking ticket in DC. About ten days ago they hit me while the 51 was at Eastern Market on a Sunday. I can almost guarantee they've changed the parking regs on 6th St NW since we've parked on all those blocks on Sundays at least 15 times. Fine, I'll pay.

I was impressed with the "Go Green option" on the tickets. For some reason, e-mail notification does not interest me at all...

the great southwest

My weekend in Tucson was lovely. Even the long flights worked out well enough with only my final return leg from DFW to DCA being a big uncomforable (leg room issues). I'd certainly fly American again before considering another airline for cross-country travel.

I had cocktails and dinner with Mr. and Mrs. Smith on Saturday night at Scott &  Co. (return visit) before dinner at Poca Casa across the street (another return visit). Hopefully, it was welcome break for the Mister, who is in the midst of working loads of hours while piling on 12 or 16 hours of college - admirable, if debilitating. Company and cocktails were excellent; I'd been longing for some Campari and/or bitters so the Lying Bastard served me just fine. Dinner was good, if not as excellent as it was during our December visit - my tamale was good, not great; service wasn't up to par. I won't not go back, but they get one more chance to tip the scales. On Sunday the missus and I met at the Heirloom Farmers Market for some coffee, brunch-y stuff, and a bit of shopping; we had a nice long chat over her waffle and my coffee. I actually did some wandering and shopping before we met: great Mexican chocolate, bags of heirloom beans, hand ground flour, some pepper, and a fine locally roasted bag of decaf French Roast beans. I always forget the limits on volume when flying - I managed to get everything in my bag along with the two bottles of Arizona Stronghold wine which is nearly impossible to find here (they also don't ship to Virginia.) Sunday night we did a melodrama - impossible to find just about anywhere in America these days - at the Gaslight Theatre. It was a wonderful visit and an enjoyable journey that I'd let slip over away over the years.

Oh, there they are:

I stay two nights in the Catalina House at the Azure Gate Bed and Breakfast - top marks. The house had a loft bedroom over a comfortable living room and half kitchen. Fantastic breakfasts created by chef/owner Dennis complemented a beautifully conceived layout and accessories. It will certainly be my base of operations for future Tucson trips.

the longer walk of consideration

I know, nitpick-y. When I'm waiting to turn right at a crosswalk I often encounter the ped who is trying to be helpful - and that should be good enough, right? - by angling his path further down (away from me) the target sidewalk. I appreciate the effort, but I'd be better served (and it's all about me) by you doing the old straight across the walk. It's math. I know you're saying, "Well, maybe he also picks up this pace; starts doing that officeworker jog." If that's the case, just do the officeworker jog straight ahead.

Hey, it's my Monday.

omar's coming!

A quick follow up to our Wilmington trip. Wilmington has its issues like any number of older East Coast cities, but it also has a great vibe. In particular, the North Market Street area that is home to the Grand Opera House where we saw our show, and the Queen which hosts Wilmington’s World Café Live shows. There are also loads of restaurants, a great bookstore, and any number of new shops and cafes opening that are clearly tapping into what appears to be a new growth area. It is also not white – yes, people white. You learn quickly in Wilmington that it has a history of culture and music, a lot of which falls under not only rock and roll, but blues, soul, and a questionable claim to Bob Marley. As I was writing some Yelp! Review – yes, I do those – there was a review for The Grand from two days after we were there. Here is an excerpt:

“I am saying this because this venue has no parking what so ever. We witnessed several open air drug transactions as we looked for parking.  I was afraid to park my car and walk blocks to the door in broad daylight.  I can only imagine how scary it would be in the dark at night.”

He gave it one star. And they turned around and went home, eating their tickets.  I passed this nugget along to X who immediately dropped something along the lines of, “What? I felt perfectly safe and we there at night.” And then the coup de grace on this guy, “What exactly does an ‘open air’ drug deal look like?” Well, it looks like non-white people on street corners, apparently. Or, it looked like this, and this guy was all in the know on drug deals. Open air drug deals – MULTIPLE open air drugs deals. During the day!

Come to think of it, it’s probably time to go back and watch the entire run.

mise en place

Piles of work. You know how you feel when you are trundling to the gym for the eleventy-millionth time? At some point, shouldn’t some number of trips hold you for the rest of your life? 

“Hey guys, I just found out that once you hit the gym 1,000 times then your body will stay as it is from any point after that. Do 1,500 if you want, but you’ll never be in less shape than you were at visit 1,000.”

There was some work being done to the exterior of Winterthur this spring. All about the outside of the house were piles and piles of unassembled scaffolding ready to be, well, assembled. Remembering that I have zero skills when it comes to toolery or building, I was a bit in awe of the amount of pipe/structure, connections, and other stuff needed to build scaffolding around a four-story mansion. I should have taken a picture – would have made the story better, right? Anyhow, thinking about a job like repainting an abbey seems like trouble enough. Having to assemble and unassemble all the damn scaffolding makes it three times the work.

Every spring we begin to see the endless creation and de-creation of festival needs across DC. The Cherry Blossom Festival is the first that requires the standing of all the temporary fencing along busy, Mall-adjacent roads; keeps the tourists from darting across Ohio Ave. while I’m drinking my coffee and chauffeuring my better half to work. The fences will come down and a week later they’ll go back up. The temporary tents and stands go up; they come down. They will go up again. Just the areas that I see require at least six or seven different ups and downs over the summer, and this is some major construction. It may be the worst job I can think of, “Todd, go put up the massive tent in the open space near the Bureau of Engraving.” So, I take my truck, gather that huge tent and get it up and ready. “Todd, go take down the same tent and put it back in storage.” Good news, it’s down and stored. One week later, “Todd, go put up the massive tent in the open space near the Bureau of Engraving.” Are you fucking kidding me? I just took it down!” Over and over and over. “Hey, fence-erector guy, can I swap with you? I hate that tent.” I wonder what chores they have over the winter?

Of course, X pointed out that cooking dinner is the same process. You think to yourself,, “I’ll make some chili tomorrow night, easy peasy.” Well, aside from shopping (if needed), cutting, prepping, cooking, setting the table, serving, clearing, washing dishes, and wiping down the kitchen.  I guess this is why the answer I get from H. is “about 20 minutes” when I ask him how much time does he think making dinner takes. Not that he should really know, but it seems to reflect on about everything in life.

I can only think that getting in bed at night doesn’t require more than just getting in bed.

This all means nothing. Unfortunately, you’ll now just aggravate yourself adding up the steps required to do what you think is just one item on your checklist.

You’re welcome.

round of applause

I’m constantly awed by performance, even if I misunderstood it before this weekend. More precisely, on our drive back from Wilmington, as we were talking about the Carolina Chocolate Drops show, X used a turn of phrase that truly described what I couldn’t ever quite put my finger on.  It’s not a show , nor is it for us. There’s a massive difference in my mind between a show and a performance – a show is 5,000 people; a performance is far fewer in attendance. The connection between those on stage and those on the floor is lost once we cross a certain number. Think of a Lion King show in the West End – thousands crammed in attendance – to something like The Hostage in the 100-seat Keegan Theatre in DC. It’s not a matter that the performers in The Lion King aren’t immensely talented, it’s that I neither see nor feel the effort and skill that I should understand.  It’s all very distant and shallow. When you can see faces and really feel the flow of music and instruments washing over you, be it in a bar or club, then you are there. That’s performance.

We are there to not to take but to acknowledge the craft before us – we aren’t an audience in the sense of “give me something”, we are there to pass along our wonder and awe at what we witness. The best music shows have been small affairs, from a cramped 7^th Street Entry where Slobberbone blew off the doors, to something like our Saturday night in an historic theatre; feeling a musical history being duly recognized. Yes, they are up on the stage performing, but it’s our presence in cherishing the skill that is at the core of the emotion.

Okay, let that go for a minute.

On Sunday, as we were looking at a DuPont exhibit and awaiting entry to Downton Abbey stuff, X and I both looked at a few portraits of olden times women (I didn’t read the blurbs so I have no idea who there were – I’m like that at times) and wondered, aloud (museum aloud) to each other:

Me: “Did that artist only know how to paint George Washington’s face? Because it look looks like he just painted George’s face on that poor woman.”

X: “Yeah, he could have at least done her the favor of making her look a bit more attractive. As the ‘artist’ it seems like the best thing to do. Sort of and early airbrushing.”

We wandered a few more feet examining some silver, broad cloth, and other artifacts.

X: .” I just had a thought. Maybe that painting does make her look better. Yikes.”

See? She’s like that.

Weather was garbage today. And, our furnace is broken. You can’t have it all.

the first state

Sometimes you misfire. There are moments when JCD* doesn't quite get things right - not horribly wrong, but not quite right. The Eleven ended up having coffee at La Fia in Wilmington, Delaware early Saturday evening. We were killing time before our dinner reservation at 6p and while wandering North Market St., noted that La Fia was about the only option for time killing. Great lattes, excellent service, fresh and amazing gougeres. There was an inkling that we should maybe stay and eat there instead of the pub up the street, but with reservations in hand, we headed out for a middling dinner. We did return, post-dinner, for some nice cocktails at La Fia's bar before our show - we should have stayed if the lattes, pastries, and cocktails were any indication of the food quality. Based on watching the kitchen and checking out the plates while cocktailing, I'm pretty sure dinner there would have been much better. Sometimes you miss.

We were in Wilmington for the Carolina Chocolate Drops show on Saturday night at the Grand. Both the venue and the band lived up to expectations - part history, part musicology, all drop dead talent. More on them in another post.

I did mange all of our other meals and activities at my higher standard - if only I'd trusted La Fia. It eats at me. Well, it doesn't, but I like it all to be perfect. The brunch that stood out was at Fresh Thymes on Saturday morning - something that violated my normally strong desire to not eat in any place named after an herb or spice. This place is a very small, limited menu, three-employee joint that does natural, healthy foods - and breakfast/brunch seems to be the specialty. We both had massive stacks of banana buckwheat pancakes to go with the excellent coffee on tap. Not a lot of tables, we had to wait about 10 minutes, but it was worth it. When you're next in Wilmington...

Sunday we did the Winterthur House and Garden on the way out of town and it was an excellent visit all around. We actually walked from the visitor center to the house which gave us loads of quiet and empty gardens/lands to take in on the first really nice weekend of they year. There was a bit of a bite in the air so most visitors took the trams instead of walking. It's a bit early for any full bloom, but the March bank was blanketed:

We didn't do the proper house tour since you can't wander unattended and the crowd was a bit large, but we did (not by accident) visit the Downton Abbey exhibit. They've brought over about forty pieces of historical costume from the show and the exhibit was well thought out, with timed tickets that actually maintained some semblance of space within the exhibit. Hey, I only watch Downton to maintain continuity with Mr. Carson.

And, "Oh, there they are..."

Love and kisses, 

* Julie the Cruise Director

snookered tiger

Here's my theory on Tiger Woods and his golf game: kids.

It's not a bad thing, but there is some precedence for the idea. Let's draw a parallel to snooker's most decorated player, Stephen Hendry. Hendry dominated the game like no other in a spectacular career - winning seven World Championships and and 17 Majors (with 6 other finals) in an eleven-year run. The last of his major wins came with he was only 30. Hendry married in 1995 and his first child was born in 1996 - he won only a single major title after that point.

Woods had his eleven-year run (interesting?) where he won 13 of his 14 majors through the age of 33. He married in 2004 and his first child was born in 2007 - he won only a single major after 2007.

Neither Hendry nor Woods was particularly young when their first born arrived - certainly not of the sports they mastered. But these two sports require an unbelievable amount of practice time and and mental focus. I remember early stories of Hendry and the hours he spent mastering the baize of snooker - single. focus. When you are king of the World, turn 30-ish, and have children, that focus becomes blurry. That one single drive that defined you becomes less interesting. The hours of practice become more taxing.

I know what your thinking - what about Phil Mickelson? Phil didn't have the 'major' success of Woods. Yes, he has drive, but by the time he was 33 - at an age when Woods was wrapping up his 14th major - he hadyet to win his first major; he was chasing the elusive. Mickelson didn't even win his first major until after the birth of his third child. It's been a completely different process for him.

I can't actually explain Michael Jordan's drive.