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.

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

gardening at night

Saturday marked the final push of this year’s gardens. You might ask yourself, “What do you mean by gardens? How many did you have last year? How many do you have this year?”, and you be onside with those queries. To address those concerns, yes, gardensssss. We now have what could be called five gardens: our driveway Mediterranean herb-ish garden, two shade gardens (one in front, one in the back), a bigger vegetable patch on the side of the house, and a pumpkin/squash patch at the top of the backyard. As for last year? Well, I’d say we had three about the plot – a smaller veg patch, the driveway garden, and a square-foot garden of which we won’t speak. The garden construction really took hold two weeks ago when the six cubic metres of manure compost showed up in our driveway a few days after X received her two pre-planned shade garden plants. She worked the front shade garden, I helped out getting the veg patch in order, and then we called it a weekend. On Saturday we finished getting the vegetables in the ground and she blasted through the rear shade garden and pumpkin patch after I got as much compost into the back yard as was needed. She finally wrapped up about 8pm as the darkness fell and she could vaguely still see the ground. She was a tired and dirty pup when she came in the house at the fin. Rest assured, she got a nice trip to the day spa yesterday afternoon to get a bit of recovery time. We’ll take some pictures as all the life develops around The Hilltop.

Here’s an interesting finale to a case in Texas a few years ago. The Supreme Court dismissed a request for cert (I’m so legally!) last week in a once sentence release. Why this case is so bizarre isn’t so much because of the actual events between the judge and prosecutor but the responses of people who think about it and then post comments. Even though the article is clearly directly as the process – and not the guilt or innocence in the case – the law-and-order, badass, gun-toting, citizens can’t look passed the “guilty and fry him” mentality. If anyone with a sense of the judicial system can look at this case and say that that actions are defendable then we are really lost.

The Capitals failed to finish off the Canadiens at Verizon on Friday night and now how to play Game 6 in Montreal this evening. Friday’s game was so poorly played on their part – and I witnessed it – that the cliff-dwelling Caps’ fans are close to folding it up and giving in. Even though it wasn’t great, they’ll probably win tonight and all will be forgiven.

t

this and that.

Here’s a strange article from the NYTimes last week. Well, I consider it strange because I love cilantro and can’t imagine a whole pod of people in this World who do dislike it. Julia Child? Really? I guess she never considered cilantro pesto on my flatbread with hummus and grilled shrimp.

The Eleven was at Verizon Center on Saturday night for the madness that was the Caps’ 2nd playoff game. The Caps came back from 4-1 down to tie it at 4-4, gave up another late goal to fall behind, and tied it again with little more than a minute to go. They won it 30 seconds into OT on a goal by Nicklas Backstrom. By the third period, amidst the craziness, even X was yelling about a interference penalty call across the ice. I think it was something along the lines of “Hey! Hal Gill’s a punk. Are you blind, ref? He can’t do that!” – she then threw her beer and started cussing. Okay, she didn’t do those last two (or use Hal Gill’s name) but she was offended by the interference. Just so you know, it was whistled as a penalty moments later.

We spent all day Saturday working on the lawn and gardens: I got the veg garden soil/compost in order and X labored through getting 50-ish plants into her new shade garden along our front porch/roses/walkway. By last summer it’ll look quite stunning; the veg didn’t get planted yet and the wind has kicked up so it might be a few days. We’ll keep you posted.

planted seeds

Here’s a little insight into Justice Clarence Thomas. This may be the most I’ve ever heard uttered from him in any setting. I’ll leave my analysis to this: there is a difference between rights and the awe reserved for the dishwasher.

We had a pile of rain on Saturday (and I was working at the Library of Congress) so we didn’t get the square-foot garden* in order until yesterday. As the WonderTwins made a run to Baltimore to pick up children and mother I pulled out the tools and started getting the wood cut and ready for the frame. At one point I called X to see how she wanted the box configured – I knew it was to be 8’ x 4’, shush – and out of nowhere Corey showed up at the house with tools and tool belt in hand; sort of like a superhero. No real bother. I would have gotten there in the end but it’s much faster when the woodworker shows up on your doorstep. All the seeds have been planted and we’re hoping to take a weekly picture of the doings; if they’re interesting then maybe you’ll get a time lapse series of shots.

I flexed my manliness by sharpening all my kitchen knives and cleaning and restocking my spice and herb rack with a fresh batch of Penzey’s.

The NHL playoffs start this week – Wednesday for the Capitals – so the city is abuzz with anticipation. And, by “the cit”y, I mean the hockey weird-os.

It’s been awhile,

T

*As an aside, 600 lbs of top soil will give you about 6 inches deep over 32 square feet. I guess we could call that about 16 cu. yards of coverage. A train departs station A at 35mph at 1pm and a second train departs station B….

cubes of stuff

On Saturday night I created a stunning version of Campbell’s tuna casserole. Maybe stunning is too strong a word – I followed the recipe, sans chopped pimentos – and the boys set upon it as if a horde of locust. I don’t normally have luck with them when it comes to any mixed dish that doesn’t have easily identifiable parts and pieces. (I will admit that I added some shredded mozzarella to the recipe in order to tempt them with something a bit creamier; I’m always trying to sneak about the place.) There may have been a day’s worth of hunger hidden inside them but I have a different theory. Casserole. The boys have some upper Midwest (Wisconsin) DNA running around in there and I think this is just the first sign of those Midwest / Great Plains roots blossoming. X mumbled something about liking casserole when she was young while running the woods of western Mass but that’s just silly. They don’t do casseroles (or hot dishes) in New England; not like we do in Middle America. It won’t be long before I’ll try again on the meatloaf with a side of green bean casserole; the classic green bean casserole didn’t make much of a dent the first time around a few years back. Maybe I can round out the menu planning with scalloped or au gratin potatoes. Oh, I can open up with a lettuce, cottage cheese, pineapple ring, and mayonnaise salad. Those Midwestern eating desires will eventually catch up with them. The next time I make the tuna I think I’ll add the Ruffles across the top in lieu of my healthier version with just bread crumbs - chips on food!

While I was trundling about yesterday afternoon the little missus swung out to various points in NoVa and gathered 640lbs. of topsoil, peat, some wood, and some other junkity-junk I don’t remember and now we prep for some square-foot gardening at the top of the driveway. I’m planning on unloading the Merc this evening – so it’s at least drivable – but the rains have come and that may be on hold. Over the last week there’s been a good bit of arranging of seed envelopes on the kitchen peninsula and mumblings about whether capsicum and alliaceae can co-exist; some strange alchemy that sometimes escapes her mind. I’ll tell you my opinion on that, no idea. I am, however, quite interested in working the garden of little one-foot cubes.

For those of you not on Facebook, I took some quizzes last week and apparently if I were a Supreme Court Justice, I’d be Ginsberg; if I were a legislator, I’d be Pelosi; if I were a movie star, I’d be Grace Kelly. Take those for what they’re worth.

Hey.

gardening at night

It’s the actual gardening / science part that I don’t get. I like the herbs, flowers, plants, and trees that result from all the work – work that I don’t mind doing – but the science blinds me. I saw this article at Slate this morning and thought two things: I’ll give it a go and I need to forward it to X. This is the kind of stuff she ponders. And, as she often relays to me the importance of growing zones, turning soil, composting, and tales of gardenology, my eyes begin to glaze over in a “she doesn’t know I’m not listening but I’ll nod, stare with interest, and blink at appropriate times” type of sheen. This article, which I quit reading after three or four paragraphs, has confirmed to me for all time that it’s the subject matter and not her. If our roles were to be reversed and the subject matter altered then her cross to bear would be me explaining the other night how I’d looked up the D.C. ward system and city council configuration. I pointed out, rather interestingly, how there are 13 members of the council: one from each of the eight wards, four at-large members (voted city wide), and one chairman (voted city wide for that specific seat). Hold on…I know you’re excited. The four at-large seats are staggered so two are on the ballot every two years and each D.C. voter can vote for up to two candidates. When the votes are tallied the leading vote getter gets the first seat and the second seat is given to the next leading vote getter not from the same party. Since a Democrat always wins in D.C. that means that the first Republican or Independent or Party of Todd nominee on the vote tally gets the second seat. The D.C. Council now has 11 Democrats, 1 Republican, and 1 Independent. As I was trying to finish this intriguing tale of trivia the other night she merely looked over and gave me either a “stop telling me inane facts” look, or said something like “stop telling me inane facts”. Same either way, right?

t

calling a shovel a spade

X headed down to G’s elementary school last night to volunteer as a gardening troop. If there’s a way to entice her anywhere you’ll want to bring up some digging, some dirt, plants, and any available horde of weeds. After the kids were in bed last night she told me about another little boy who was gardening right near her; an H clone. As she was talking with him, and rending weeds, she learned that he was half-English on his mother’s side; which, of course, answered for her the nagging question about the spade he had brought from home. With his father nearby she idly commented that his being part-English explained why he had an English spade. I got the impression that the father was quite curious as to why this loon knew the dif between an English spade and a shovel…or vice versa. As she’s telling me this little yarn I cannot keep myself from laughing – another perfect story of her “phone a friend” knowledge. At that point she reached across the sofa and gave me the “shut up and quit making fun of me” whack. Chuckles all around. And then, she starts in on how English spades are flat and square while shovels, “which are different, you know,” are round with more depth. She can’t stop herself.

The cats have decided the place is all right now that they have the freedom to come and go as they wish. Maybe happy isn’t the right turn of phrase; they now look at us as if we were peasants merely here to support the crown. Cats can be cold.

I got a new iPod touch in the mail today. I’ll push my older Nano into my ever-growing iPod museum – someday I’ll charge admission for the public to paw all of my originals. The fact that I can now sit on the couch and check e-mail, sports, etc. with the WiFi-capable jewel simply amazes me. Of course, I’m dumbstruck by the whole photo negative thing.

Nevermind.

Hey to all.

t

three alarm fire

The small place across the street from us is going to be torn down tomorrow and the owners have been working for a few months to pull out whatever is salvageable before the claw attacks. They're planning on building a story-and-a-half house that will fit into the neighborhood much better than the horrid ego mansions that seem to pop up every other lot. Being as the final destruction is tomorrow, the owners coordinated with the fire department to come over today and play fire fire fire: busting in the door repeatedly, breaking all the windows, setting part of attic ablaze, breaking through the roof...all the stuff you see on Rescue Me. I honestly didn't know people did this house volunteer work with the fire department until X was giving me the rundown this evening. She was outside working on gardening and weeding (are those the same thing?) while the fire boys were playing their game of destruction. She was working specifically on two large pots of lavender that had turned south over the Summer. Apparently, based on her testimony, the firefighters showed quite an interest in her lavender. 

Ah, my child. Firefighters loooooovvvvveeeee lavender.

She's still cute.

t

blueberry dreams

In the paraphrased words of T. Boone Pickens, “We own 3% of the oil reserves in the World yet we use 20% of the World’s oil. We can’t drill our way out of our dependency on foreign oil.” That is the simplest statement yet made concerning the problem – and from a wildcatter and newly-minted leader in energy technology, no less. If nothing else sticks in your craw when it comes to this particular issue during this election season, remember the harbinger: we can’t drill our way out.

L. has moved onto her second week of summer day camp. Last week’s Whirlygigs and Wild Things run by the Smithsonian received mediocre reviews. If I were to guess, I’d say she’d give it a B. I think she enjoyed riding the Metro to camp everyday more than the camp itself. Now that it’s over I can tell you that she successfully rode from West Falls Church to the Smithsonian all by herself every morning. That’s not something you can reveal early on because people worry. I know from my Omaha-Chicago Amtrak trips in the late 70s that kids can function just fine on their own; we can even catch cabs at the train station and find our way to the North side.

This week she’s doing digital movies and claymation at the Sidwell School in NW DC. Unfortunately, there’s no Metro stop nearby so we’re driving her into the heart of the D.C. beast each morning to drop her off in the golden Mercedes. After the first day it’s apparent this camp is much more to her liking, at least if one were to base it on her excitement yesterday afternoon.

X has gone off this morning to buy some blueberry plants. We looked at some scruffy, street-wise plants last weekend but her initial impression was to bypass them and look around some more this week. It wasn’t until we were at least three blocks away from those scrubs that she realized maybe they were what she wanted all along – tough, hardscrabble plants. I tend to agree because if these plants were sitting in a Home Depot parking lot sprouting blueberries then they must be quality. I don’t think you want to buy specially raised, manicured, soft suburban blueberry plants. Much like me, once they are taken away from the comfortable life they’ve led they tend to get grumpy. Updates to follow.

t