the north

Along with any number of things I'd like to 'work' on in my near years I'd like to blog some more. I'm bringing sexy back, right?

The Eleven abandoned the issues (issuances?) down South and moved to Vermont about two months ago. Much like the scene in Fletch (you only need to watch to the 1:30 mark), it was so sudden, you know, at the very end.We'd planned to move up eventually - to build, clear the land, tap some trees, live off the our wilderness skills - but our standing lease in Virginia, work, houses for sale, and whatnot conspired with/against us and off we went in two U-Hauls (one towing a car), and a CR-V containing X and two cats. The drive was amazingly easy considering we were rigging it up I-95 for much of the journey and hitting the GW Bridge to cross Manhattan. By the way, a 20" U-Haul with a Nissan Versa on a dolly in tow will run you $84 at the bridge. The three of us ended up running differing routes from Manhattan to the house but all arrived safe and sound.

The first Vermont entry is going to be about the 40th annual Putney Craft Tour over Thanksgiving weekend. This was probably the fifth time The 51 has done it, with others popping in and out over the years, and it's the best thing. Putney, even though it has a 'center' of town, is really just a big, open patch of country littered with artists and their studios. The best part of the tour is driving to these tucked away gems where you get to see houses with satellite studios hidden away in hills, forests, and valleys, most often near a running brook or stream. The artists open up the studios to visitors and you get to see the creativity, tools, and products they make for a living. It doesn't hurt that it's usually cold and the studios are woodstove-heated with hot cider and snacks. You can take time to chat with the artists since no single place is overrun at any given time, at least not in the mornings. We saw a lot of the usual places, but even they seem different every year. And, unlike two years ago I didn't buy at every stop...just half of them. My favorites?

Fiona Morehouse at Alchemy Arts

Julia Brandis at Julia Brandis Glassworks (I'll be getting a stained glass once I get X in tow...)

Ken Pick at Ken Pick Pottery

The cheese (as always) at the amazing Parish Hill Creamery

and, Dena Moses at Vermont Weaving School where I have a 3-day class in February

Now if I can just get around to chickens, cheesemaking,weaving, and mandolin playing.

are they better than others?

The Eleven watch Tim's Vermeer the other night and it led to some discussion about artistry. One problem right off the bat is that I love Vermeer, always have, so the movie can be a bit of downer when you realize that it's premise - that Vermeer used a bit of technological sleight-of-hand - is more than likely true. What this led to was a spirited discussion of artistry, composition, and what is, no doubt, an endless debate about greatness. If an artist of grand repute (maybe not repute, but whatever) isn't quite what we may have been led to believe, is the underlying work somehow less creative?

I've immediately revisited my long lost "Milli Vanilli Treatise": Does the fact that who we thought was singing the song negate the quality of the song?



Sure, it's not great stuff by many standards, but it's pretty catchy, right? People were burning records when they found out they were lip-syncing (in fact, didn't even sing on the record), which doesn't seem to be much of an issue these days. I think half of the recording industry is full of people who hire songwriting talent - bring back the Brill Building!  - and then overproduce the 'records' and live shows. There's a lot of Milli Vanilli going on these days, we just seem used to it. So, does the fact that Vermeer composed his portraits and them probably used some form of optics to create them somehow violate what we consider great talent? Is the work less beautiful? Do we still believe, as we did/do with Vermeer, that there are actual genius who can see / hear / create beyond the capabilities of their peers?

We  know there are shortcuts in painting and recorded music (and in live musical performance in many cases), so are the two equal? Painting isn't normally done live so what may happen behind the scenes remains (or so it may have seemed ) a mystery. With musical performance we can ask to see or watch a performance to somehow validate skills, with caveats like minimal amplification and electronics. What about writing? Certainly there loads of great writers - Shakespeare being in question - that may or may not have written everything we assign to their genius. Does it matter? Is Hamlet less amazing if we find out it was penned by someone else?

What do I think? I still believe there are geniuses out who walk amongst mortals. Whether they are songwriters, performers, artists, or authors. Some may have an (unfair?) advantage of life lessons that can be encompassed in song or work. Some may have an ability to compose scenes and imagines in a way that no one else can manage. I think I'm aware of technology and tricks, and I'm okay with it.

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.

reset

The Eleven spent last Saturday night in Baltimore. I know what your thinking about our tours of east coast blue-collar, hardworking, formerly (and future) great cities (more on that later). What with Pittsburgh in February and Wilmington, DE next weekend you might offer us a grander vacation on a beach or mountainside somewhere else; we’d decline that offer.

Baltimore is a city that appears on the edge of becoming quite alluring. (This is the later part, see above.) It went through a first re-invention in the early 1980s (?) when it redid the Inner Harbor area and anchored it with the National Aquarium. Just down the road a piece from the Inner Harbor sit Camden Yards, which spawned the entire retro-baseball park idea, and M&T Bank Stadium (the NFL’s Ravens’ home). These fairly specific areas draw lots of tourism and spending, but I feel the Inner Harbor, at over 30 years old, is fading a bit; and, this brings me to where the city seems to be now. With its various universities, neighborhoods, water access, I-95 access, and a lower cost of living than DC it may be poised to make some noise. The museums are great and I sense a hipster vibe just on the doorstep – hipsters ain’t bad – with places like the old Union Mill popping up. If played correctly, the attraction of areas like Mount Vernon could pull the city up quite a bit. We’ll see – revisit this post in five years’ time.

We did the normal thing for us and wandered around Fells Point for a bit with the weather throwing out a beautiful 70 degrees and sunshine. We bought G. what should be a highly cherished, actual top hat at Hats in the Belfry. I managed any number of CDs at Sound Garden, we did some coffee at Daily Grind, and patted some of the gazillion dogs out for the day before heading to our digs. Julie the Cruise Director booked us into the BlancNoir in Little Italy, and JCD will get a very nice comment card for said actions. We stayed in the New York room which was perfectly lovely – massive king bed with great linens, coffee, water (free; well, you know what I mean), great HDTV (we will watch trashy TV in hotels), slippers, robes, excellent temp control, and a massive bath with Jacuzzi and a two person, 12-head shower. Great place. Breakfast was almost over the top (we were the only visitors that night) with fresh everything: fruit, muesli (homemade), yoghurt, bread, cheeses, eggs to order, and veg sausage (they knew we were coming). As far as rooms and B&Bs go – about the best I’ve seen.

We then met up with my Baltimore-based cousin for dinner at Helmand in Mount Vernon - our second visit intended to verify just how great we find the food. With a near repeat on the selections we have confirmation that it’s fantastic. We had a long and wonderful conversation as we worked through the courses, wine, and dessert. I count it as a great success in my attempt this year of keeping touch with people in my life.

Sunday morning took us to coffee to Artifact Coffee in another part of town, and then back Mount Vernon for the Walker Art Center. I’m not sure how to summarize the Walker aside from saying it may be the best museum (layout, crowds [very small], admission [free], exhibitions, and tone) I’ve ever been to. We spent a nice chunk of time in the lower galleries and the 19th century collection before calling our normal hour-and-a-half eye candy limit. We will no doubt be back to cover the other 80% of the museum, including an entire Asian art building next door. With kids. Very pleasant, indeed. I think my next entry may address the lack of umph provided by the Pittsburgh Museum of Art…

Seven days to Wilmington.

Peace.

raising arizona

The Eleven did the long weekend in Tucson for Sean and Sarah’s nuptials; a success all around. The wedding was outdoors at a small ranch with the reception following in a lodge-y/multi-purpose building mere steps from the scene of the “I do’s”. We flew down on Thursday, with a day to spare, so we could take the kids out for a nice dinner before the final onslaught of a rehearsal dinner on Friday, and the crazed actions of the Saturday marriage (by ‘crazed’ I mean busy, not the marriage part). They appreciated the time away, and meeting Sean for the first time was quite nice. Saturday went off without a hitch – lovely weather – and by 8pm everyone was happy and more relaxed with the open bar nearby. The happy couple headed to NYC on Monday for a weeklong (wintry) honeymoon.

I was worried about my tour planning abilities and Tucson: none of my research on places to eat and things to do seemed to completely pique my interest. I had my list in hand, but was quite tentative on success. The best of the best ended up being Café Poca Casa for dinner on Friday night with Anne and my hold high school pal, Todd (who drove down from Flagstaff for 24 hours of visiting). This place is amazing: Fantastic service, inspired food, and a perfect atmosphere for a celebratory-like dinner. (The picture on the Web site doesn’t do justice to the ambiance in the evening.) Easily one of the best meals ever. Afterwards, we wandered across the street to a speakeasy of sorts, Scott & Co.  where X, Anne, and Wags enjoyed some high-end fancy-pants cocktails (I was the adult!).

Good recommendations on breakfast/lunch/brunch at Blue Willow and Ghini’s French Café. The best breakfast we had (twice) was at the Café ala c’ART located behind the Tucson Museum of Art. Excellent fritattas and they make a nice, strong decaf Latte, and that’s no mean feat.

We stayed at the Wyndham Westward Look resort hotel in northwest Tucson. It was nice enough, and plenty roomy in our junior suite, but it has some issues: the furniture is aged, the clock couldn’t be set (?), the TV/cable was mediocre, and they charged $3.50 for a bottle of water (we used tap). The goods? The beds are new and very nice. The hot tub was a few steps from our room. The views and layout of resort are quite nice. For the money, I’d go back – there’s nothing that would lead me to give it a “do not go!” review.

Weather was lovely. The skies over Tucson are high, blue, and clear. About 65 during the days, down to the 40s at night. And, we had a convertible Mustang. Legend.

american rolling

Post-Labor Day and the summer hiatus is over – whether it was planned or not. We spent the long weekend visiting family in Ohio. There’s a lovely bed-and-breakfast with a stunning native garden that hosted a few rooms of visitors. Heather came down from Seattle for the weekend, Jen, Dave, and family live nearby; and Connie played hostess. It was such a great three days of relaxing, farmers marketing, high school soccer watching, and catching up. More on the Ohio-specific stuff to come.

The Eleven headed out Friday afternoon from D.C. and immediately (though not surprisingly) moved into our place in the massive exodus from the nation’s capital on the last holiday weekend of the summer. No worries though, we were clear of traffic about ten miles west of Hagerstown, MD (feel free to locate Hagerstown on a map). Our plan was to stop in Frostburg, MD for dinner – it worked out timing wise for the trip, plus X’s grandparents and uncle lived / grew up there so we had a chance to flashback to her youth. Our enquiries to the internet and familynet as we approached the Metropolis indicated that Frostburg isn’t much known for anything to eat, so X pointed her finger to Dante’s, a bar / restaurant, right downtown. The restaurant part, The Red Giant, has been there for a few years and the food is served in the bar area so you have a very pleasant experience of the bar itself – full of character – while stuffing your face with amazing Red Giant food. We were awed by the food and between us we had the watermelon gazpacho; goat cheese, apple, green onion, bleu cheese crostini; Caesar salad with grilled cheese croutons; and white bean Panini. It was so good that X was unwilling to leave behind (or wrap up) the huge plate of crostini…eat eat eat. The vibe in the place is cool and laid back so if you find yourself on I-68 in western Maryland, swing on in – with our high recommendation in hand.

We traced nearly the same route home on Monday, but stopped in Clarksburg, WV for a bite to eat. Once again, based on some crazy reviews we decided venture into what can only be described as the old, dark, and uninhabited former industrial area of town. We are talking an old, beat-up, hard on its luck, former mining town. Our destination was Tomaro’s ItalianBakery and their customer-declared, badass pepperoni rolls. I didn’t even know what a pepperoni roll was until yesterday – at about 1:15pm. I don’t eat meat any more, but there was no way I wasn’t eating what they handed us in exchange for our measly six dollars: four piping hot pepperoni rolls. What you have here is a freshly baked, Italian bread roll with hunks of pepperoni in the middle – unbelievable. We kept two for the boys (they were lucky) and I gobbled down two while they were still steaming their wondrous aroma all over the car. It’s sort of true that once you have a Tomaro’s pepperoni roll you can die happy. If you are rolling out the way, stop in and get a bag load. STOP. GET ROLLS!

X didn’t get a chance to eat rolls – hey, it’s her choice – so we made once more stop at…wait for it….Panera. Where, as expected, they fucked up her order. I have no idea what to say.

The journey both ways was pretty straightforward. The food was a discovery.

ExtraExtra!!!!

The drive down to Warm Springs on Saturday afternoon was scenic. It was also long and convoluted. The GPS (“Eddie”) was programmed to the Warm Springs city center but instead dumped us out in the wilds of Bath county about 20 miles north of the town. I had my suspicions when Eddie routed us straight west after passing Harrisionburg – therefore bypassing Staunton, VA, which had been a landmark – and sending the new Donner party up and over Highland county. At said dumping point, the Eleven quickly decided to access the World and determine our best route to our vacation getaway. What’s that you say? No 3G coverage out here? Fine, pull up the Google/live traffic enabled GPS and we’ll be gold. No reception out here? Fine, get the map. What? No. Map.

(AP) Harrisonburg, VA – Virginia State Police report they have located two lost Northern Virginia liberal voters in the area surrounding the lower Allegheny Mountains in northwest Virginia. After reports that they hadn’t e-mailed or texted anyone for over two hours, the State Police dispatched a search team that included one vehicle, one trooper, a map, a sandwich, and large WaWa coffee. Sgt. Deke Slaton described the search as simple, “We were told they were heading down toward Warm Springs for two nights at some posh inn that apparently delivers breakfast to your room in a picnic basket. I don’t know how that works, but warm scones and coffee in bed doesn’t sound half bad.” Sgt. Slaton decided that the best search pattern was to head due south along State Highway 220 from his office in Monterey, VA, “The way I figured it, “ said Slaton, “the cell service is dead between Monterey and Hot Springs so the natural place to hunt for these yahoos was along 622 where outdoor types tend to fish and hunt.” After about six miles Slaton located the 2001 Gold Mercedes E320 parked on the side of the road. The vacationers were shaken, but safe, having just finished the last of their carrot and yoghurt meze, simits, and a split sparkling lemon soda. “They were in the process of figuring out what they were going to do next when I came upon them,” Slaton reported. “Frankly, it was a little embarrassing. They seemed to be walking around holding their iPhones in the air. The woman was picking flowers and complaining how there was no way that the 1.9Ghz towers weren’t able to hit the phone. There was some other blather about backhaul. The guy was rambling on about how high-speed rail should be built in the area and something about timetables and poor planning by the localities. Anyhow, I gave them half of my sandwich and told them to drive five more miles and they’d be at the Inn. They had ¾ of tank of gas so I’m not really certain why they were concerned.” The couple was reported to have checked into their hotel about 15 minutes later. They were napping five minutes later.

The weekend went swimmingly. We spent two nights out yonder so the driving was well space out over the three days. We did accidentally stumble into an artist/co-op/studio on Sunday morning that hit X over the head and took her wallet. I, as the strong boyfriend, defended her by carrying all the loot to the car.

We are back home; all the kids are gone. The peace of two adults and one mewling cat…

book it

The Eleven had a discussion about bookstores at almost the same moment that Manjoo (or David Plotz) hit the ‘post this article’ button at Slate. Within days of our discussion, and not directly related, X commented on the overall crappiness of Amazon’s recommendations engine, particularly for books. If you gather nothing else from my input, know this: Manjoo is so wrong about the quality of Amazon’s ability to recommend to me another book based on my previous searches or purchases.

I remember trying to relate to X the parallel between what I heard from a local bike shop owner years ago, and the super bookstores (Border’s and B&N). What drew this attempt was a conversation between a good friend of mine and the ‘wrench’/owner of a higher end bike shop in Omaha. That conversation was driven by my friend’s observation that there were quite a few more quality bike shops that had opened in town over the last decade, and that there must be a load more people riding bikes. Said owner pointed out, based on his 30 years in town, that there were no more people actually riding bikes than there were ten years ago – more shops didn’t indicate more riders. Now, I don’t know why people were opening more shops if the size of the pie wasn’t growing, but I might put forth that there was a growth in the visibility of cycling (they’d just opened a wonderful city-wide set of bike paths) and entrepreneurs wanted to get in on the initial rush of excitement. The big bookstores strike me as a similar phenom: they overran the landscape because they felt there were more people reading (why? I’m not sure). Regardless, I never felt people were reading more books post-Border’s/B&N building explosion than they were prior. I’d bet that most of us can see that in ourselves, probably in our families, and if you ask around at work or your friends, the amount of book reading is probably way down across the country.

Amazon, bookwise, is simply another step up the accessibility ladder for book buying – a new rung, but not an actual representation of an increase in reading (any more than digital music delivery indicates that person A actually listens to more music). They no doubt have data that show an increase in book buying, though I’d be curious to really have someone get deeper access to the data’s “who” and “what”, before I’d be totally convinced that reading has exploded. Even with the Kindle and/or Nook, I don’t actually buy the premise that people who don’t read will suddenly become bookworms because of electronic access. Most people don’t even have the time or desire to read long-form journalism; and what of books? Probably not. Access doesn’t necessarily correlate to doing. I also wonder if Amazon’s other businesses props up the bookstore portion of their revenue.

Now, independents. I’ve long missed the local record store, and this is pretty much the same path, different medium. As we decided during our talk about independent bookstores, we both like having those people that love books to do some of the filtering for us. If it’s a store that doesn’t fit our style we can always go to a different local. That filtering is far better, at least for me, than trying to maze my way through Amazon in search of a nugget that might appeal to me. On a trip to Richmond earlier this year I bought four books at two different shops that were are all excellent, and I didn’t know anything about them prior to grabbing them from the shelves. But, that’s not the biggest plus for me. What I miss from record stores and smaller bookshops is actual human gathering – even if we don’t ‘talk’ to each other, the engagement with the clerk, or some other person, is far preferable to an online life. And for that, I’m willing to pay more.

As David Plotz aptly pointed out while discussing this on the podcast, if your position is that Amazon does it for cheaper, delivers to your house, and ‘picks’ books for you, then fine – they win hands down. I have no argument. But, when I think about books I will always choose to hang around the old Olsson’s books in D.C., Kramarbooks, or a Powell’s before a Barnes and Noble, or shopping via Amazon.

what's what

All right. Trying again to get back into it.

This is a time of year where my quality sports unfold: the Champions League closing stages, the F1 season is in full swing, NHL playoffs, and the World Snooker Championship wraps the first weekend in May. John Higgins won his fourth title last week in a stunning final frame. For me, nothing gets better than the two-week run at the Crucible Theatre in Sheffield. Enjoy:



I think I’m prepared for the two weddings this month: one in Minneapolis and one in Vermont. I think shoes are the only item remaining on the list.

The Minneapolis event is for my best friend from high school (and two-year college roommate). All of the get- togethers look great; I’m flying in Friday and using mass transit (both light rail and bus) to get in and around The Cities. After years of using mass transit for travel, it’s second nature to pull up information, get timetables, order fare cards, and slip/slide around cities. I’m looking forward to my second experience on the rail in Minneapolis. If memory serves, the Hiawatha line from the airport into downtown is quite nice.

X gardened all weekend; I cooked and did some cleaning. Our new bookshelves appear to be on the verge of shelving books.

I have two stories from the weekend that I’m contemplating providing to my myriad readers. Most of the audience has heard them already, but it might be enlightening to others. One is funny; the other a bit sad. Give me another day or two to decide.
For L’s birthday dinner last night we continued with the normal pizza night, while she and I made a poor attempt (mostly my poor, her attempt) at a chocolate orange cake. Fortunately, Corey also brought over a massive chocolate pudding so we had strong back up. She went to Eastern Market during the day to walk her rabbit trail of happiness and came back with a new, handmade, t-shirt design. She was quite happy to pocket her loads of cash from across the Hilltop, and the country.

The Eleven joined the newlyweds for a garden walk and tea at Hillwood Estate in the afternoon: perfect weather for the gardens. We had alleged tea at the ‘tea room’, but they are in dire need of an actual chef doing actual cooking of tea –time treats. That portion of the visit, though enjoyable, left quite a bit to be desired in the food/tea arena.

You’ve been as updated as you can be…for now.

clearing out the house

I was adding a dinner party invite to our Google calendar this morning and I noticed this nugget sitting in the middle of Wednesday evening: Futon Person. That’s it; a complete entry.

I’ve spoke of the New School, where L. is at, in the past. From the first time The Eleven walked in about three years ago, I hoped I could go back in time and spend four years of H.S. there. I’d love to teach there if I had the skill set. A few weeks ago I was talking about Annapolis with a co-worker (Academy grad), and planning a visit, and as he drew a map he described the triangle that includes the Academy, some other corner, and St. John’s College. I’d never heard of St. John’s – at least this one – but the description sounded fantastic. Wow. If I were younger, and much more dedicated to college than I was in 1983 (and I am now), this would be the place. Simply amazing. Take a look. Now I have a H.S. and college in mind for my time-machine travels.

My company completed our move last weekend so we’ve settled in the new place (it is quite nice) over this first week. I’ve split driving and riding the bus this week, but the bus will be the long-term plan. It’s cheaper, takes longer, but ensures I can avoid any traffic flare ups.

About two weeks left in my current quarter at school, a short break, and then back into cooking classes. I’ll be working in the school’s restaurant Monday – Wednesday evenings. Half my time in the kitchen, half of my time spent in the front of the house. That should go well…

sebastian, what is it? i'm counting matches

Updates from the weekend; not necessarily timely.

It was absolutely perfect weather for a few outings. I stocked Galactica with well-fed minions (homemade biscuits and gravy) on Saturday morning for a swing by Litteri in D.C. for Italian stock – olive oil, tomatoes, espresso, pepperoni – and subs from the deli for the kids’ picnic. After that is was to the National Arboretum for a stroll around the Asian Collection set in a valley that runs down to the Anacostia River. The kids devoured lunch while we walked (somehow G. ate an entire 12” sandwich on his own) and The Eleven has brie and cranberry baguettes at the river to finish the walk. It was our first visit to that portion of the Arboretum and it certainly fulfilled the 'day out' plan that’d been rattling around in my head. We also swung back through downtown for frozen yogurt on the way home…a bit of overkill, don’t you think? By the time we got home it was simply of matter of getting the fire going and doing nothing for the rest of the evening.

Three of us headed to Eastern Market on Sunday morning to kick-off Holiday shopping, or at least the browsing preamble. We were early enough for crepes before the line got too long and managed to haul home what appears to be a 10-lb cabbage. I can see the question rolling around in your head, “Who needs a 10-lb cabbage?” That’s exactly the response I was looking for; it’s living on the front porch with the rest of the squash.

Consider yourselves summarized.

We did Quiz Night last night and it was pure horror. Easily the worst performance of all time. Ghastly. And other adjectives and adverbs.

The weather had turned to rain. I have school for three days. It’s not quite as nice.

I want to pass along a photo from the summer’s wedding in England that the WonderTwins attended. One of their dear friends got married in what appears to be a ceremony stripped from a period-piece English drama. I’m not sure I’ve seen a more storybook wedding, even as I giggle while trying to sport Helena Bonham Carter or Daniel Day-Lewis. Anyway, if you wonder how they look when cleaned up and as attendants, now you know.

Lovely.

(professional wedding photos: here)

game of squash

I guess you have to pass through the actual first day of autumn before the squash is ready. If only we had a root cellar.

We'll be on the road to Dickerson, Maryland this afternoon to stock up from the greatest squash farmer / stand that I know of in these parts. Well, I haven't done any actual research between farmers but this falls into the "I've found what I want and I'm not moving along." If I were to work out the probability of finding a better squash guy (that's what The Eleven call him) then I'd have to do a bunch of 1*(-x) and various other things I don't understand when all I really want it a myriad of gourds. I'm not interested; and, for the small possible increase in quality or farming technique it's not worth it. If you happen to live out here in the area then I give my full recommendation to Comus Market (in this case, that picture above is actually the thing I'm blogging about). As I passed along via other media, I got a million way to cook squash and there's nothing nearly as versatile. You can thank me later.

I finally got around to getting my new lenses ordered and installed in my old frames. I appreciate that they call them progressive lenses vice bifocals; I don't feel as old and it matches my political leanings. Anyway, this takes a bit of getting used to since the sweet spot for normal (or in my case, horrid-yet-corrected far sight vision) is a fairly small portion of the glasses. If I use my peepers more than my head to see off-center then I get into the blurry area. Add in the typing or reading and using on the bottom portion and I feel like I'm some sort of Cosmonaut. I'm sure it will get better. I'm sure all the older folk think I'm just a kid complaining. And to them I say, true enough.

X and G. headed to the National Book Festival on the Mall this morning. Huge crowds as expected and longish lines for authors to sign books. The target, Suzanne Collins (of Gregor and Hunger Games fame), had a line that wasn't going to get through in the hour she'd allotted. At least there was a visual sighting.

Off to Maryland. We have our passports.

t

battles

I was going to kick off the day with some talk about empty Chinese apartments for sale but I’ve moved along. Apparently, there are about 200 million vacant.

Slate.com has done me a favor and posted a piece on Rep. Alan Grayson; aside from my mother and her dog, he may be the only thing I love about Florida. In fact, I think he might represent her down there in the 8th District. I have a longer history with Grayson than most after seeing him work a courtroom in the Custer Battles whistleblower/false claims case involving the CPA in Iraq. Grayson represented the whistleblower in the case and made quick and decisive work of Custer Battles. The Eleven had a ‘court date’ back in 2006 where we watched a portion of the trial – particularly a debate on, and then, the closing arguments – at the U.S. District Court in Alexandria. Grayson eventually showed up again in 2008 when running for the House in his adopted home state of Florida. Grayson’s a progressive Democrat who wrassled away the primarily Republican seat during the onslaught of the 2008 elections. Grayson is pretty much what I want to see in Washington from my side of the issues: I may not agree with everything he supports but I do support most of it. And, he just rolls in, kicks some teeth around, and moves on to the next issue. We’ve long wanted a Dem to show that ability and now we have him – hopefully for many, many years. You ask about his elitist background? Well, here it is…it might help. Man, I hate smart people who earn lots of money. Elitists. If you have a problem with his education and successes then I question your judgement.

Of course, the picture above is how we remember him when he ambled into the courtroom way back in 2006. I want him to go back to the beard and cowboy boots but I guess you have to tidy yourself up if you’re going to represent Walt Disney World.

hit run miss

Hit: Getting tickets to see the Avett Brothers in Baltimore in October.

Miss: Adopting some virus that knocked me out for about 36 hours from Tuesday night to early Thursday morning. X took care of me while I stayed home yesterday; temperature taking in the morning, water, tea, lots of ibuprofen on the counter.

Hit: Winning the Avett Brothers lottery after purchasing my tickets and getting bumped from eighth row, right side to front row, dead center.

Miss: Two nights of Baking and Pastry. Truth be told, I didn’t have a whole lot of interest in making apple pie on Tuesday night so I sort of bailed out; virus took me last night.

Hit: Two evenings of not doing much but The Eleven hanging around in a very quiet house with only our time invaded by two ‘cats’.

Miss: Our planned visitor who missed the flight in London and has rescheduled for a few weeks later.

Last Sunday night we had the cabal of visitors over for pizza night and my idea of a stuffed pepper pizza had mixed results (go figure?). This month’s Saveur has stuffed peppers on the cover – as if a Saveur with Greek food as the main topic wouldn’t attract – so I decided to do the roasted/stuffed peppers and actually put them on the pizza over a white sauce, olive oil, and about 2 lbs. of wilted spinach. I came across one of the smaller farm stands at Eastern Market on Sunday morning that was selling some beautiful red and green peppers so I pounced on about a dozen for my experiment. I know a bit about capsicum, I’m no expert, and these looked perfect for the job: I didn’t take pictures and I haven’t looked them up so simmer down. They were a good size, they smelled hot/sweetish, and I had a good feeling about them throughout the roasting/stuffing stage. By the way, once they were done – prior to the pizza being made – they were held until the last 6-8 minutes of pizza cooking time and then dramatically (?) placed onboard. What I ended up with was a pile of stuffed peppers that were too spicy for what I intended. The fix? X pointed out that if you just squeezed out the filling onto your slice and set aside the pepper guts then you got just the right amount of spice, all the stuffing, and your head didn’t explode. I immediately seized on this idea of giving the customer a colorful, spicy, and participatory pizza for their enjoyment. Problem solved. Tasty across all categories once my devilishly genius idea was set in motion…or discovered.

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

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.

shut it. quiet. what what

I’m a bit off-balance this week so I’ve been pretty quiet – or not, depending on where you live. A few things are gnawing at me and I haven’t fully sorted them out in my head.

First, I’m off meat in a much more permanent basis than the last five or six years. I’d say that I’ve been about 95% off since then – I’ll nibble on leftover scraps from the kids’ dinners – but we don’t do any mains for adults that include meat, and for varying reasons. You can ask X about her reasons since they’ve been well in place for most of her life and who am I to address her choices. Mine were primarily a cholesterol-avoidance plan that turned into the norm after years of not cooking anything with meat for meals. I haven’t missed it, really, so it didn’t even seem like much of a sacrifice back in about 2004 when it started. Right, there’s that. I’ll expand more on it at some point over the next week or so.

Second, (note: I just deleted and entire sentence of profanities and have begun, anew…) the healthcare insurance reform bill. I think it’ll get done over the next few weeks and we can move on to other issues that are presenting loads of other problems in our country. But, I need to take a few lines here to chastise people for ignorance. By ignorance I mean specifically the method of putting head to sand and refusing to have any type of debate on an issue that is causing so much wasted time and effort. I don’t even know that it bothers me when people yell and scream “facts” that aren’t actually facts – not much I can do about that. The rub here are the people that are too lazy, too unwilling (is that the same?), or too blinded by their people, to actually study an issue before screaming from the rooftops. Unless you can give me one actual fact that supports a position you hold (without using something like the CBO as a prop but then throwing it out when you don’t agree with you) then you don’t get to play. I’m fine with giving up a year of our governing life to get this done – I’d like it to do even more – but we are at the end. Maybe it might seem wrong to say but I’ll give it to you straight: it will get rammed down your throat and I’m cool with that. I’m not concerned about the elections – they’ll take care of themselves – and the time has come for this to be done. I’d say that it’s been a good debate but it hasn’t been: it’s been nothing more that an embarrassment. If you don’t have a plan you can go sit in the corner and color with Mitch McConnell and John Boehner. Good fucking riddance.

I feel better.

(Enter less hostile Todd from stage left)

Everything here is going well – kids and school seem to be working in a temporary emulsion – and the weather has come to spring, finally. The damn cats (damn cats!) have posed a problem that initially seemed like a batch of bad cat food (we only feed them dry) but may be more centered upon warm weather, mole-snacks, and less eating required. I returned the first bag only to see the second bag receive the same treatment. I changed stores and brands, thinking I would avoid a bad delivery truck or company, only to get similar results. At this point, they can eat it or not – they’re smart enough, right?

The orthodontist issue is almost sorted out (see previous work), but not quite. We have a “consultation” appointment next week (“Hmm, you have braces, I see…”) and then hopefully everything will get off the start line.

The Eleven is planning a long (one-two week) crazy vacation for about a year from now. We’re tempted to just find the cheapest, late-booked, vacation packages and hit the road – nearly blind. But, if anyone has any suggestions on warmer and less-touristy worldwide destinations, please submit your inputs to our anonymous comment box near the door as you exit.

One more thing: the Formula 1 season kicks off this weekend in Bahrain and here’s a photo from yesterday’s festivities and practice session. If you don’t know me too well, or don’t follow F1, then you won’t find this picture nearly as ironic or sacrilegious as I do:

you cannot be serious! - john mcenroe (1970s/80s)

A few weeks ago we sent off a couple of letters to the great north but they were returned about a week later by the USPS. Both included the standard, yellow sticker that said something about undeliverable as addressed – clearly a mistake since both addressees were correct. Not really understanding what the problem might be, I grabbed a new envelope (both items were cards), addressed it (again), stamped it (again), and fire it out yesterday morning. As expected when one tries to sort out an issue, another card was returned yesterday afternoon but this time it included some very official mathematical directions and chastisement (is that a word?) sticker covering the entire face of the envelope. It appears that unless you are mailing a perfectly standard-sized card you’ll be paying an additional $.20. Just so you don’t think that we were mailing those 2’ by 3’ cards full of pandas and balloons, here’s a picture of the returned card with a reference so you can size it yourself (that's a CD, by the way):

Here’s a zoom on the rules and directions. When you’re done with the math problem, please turn in your papers. I’m guessing that they’ve decided that if they must hand sort anything then you’re paying more. Have they purchased new sorting machines? This is complete bullshit:

I also wanted to update the progress of our snow-clearing equipment around the neighborhood. If you remember how they were stuck by feet of snow last month (see here), then rest assured they’ve finished their work. J.O.B.

We are in the midst of what I’d dubbed the “Extra Hash Brown (EHB)” game theory. It started accidentally when I asked which of the three blockheaded kids were interested in the extra hash brown at breakfast the other morning. (Background: the big pan only fits four hash browns for cooking. Yes, I could have only made three. Yes, I could have cut the last one in thirds, but where’s the fun in that?) I wrote down a number between 1 and 100 and starting with G., followed by H. and L., respectively, (they were all interested in the hash) and told them that whoever was closest to the number would win the gold. G. started with 77 – I now don’t remember the other guesses because I immediately lost interest – and after all the bids were in, H. had won. Why I lost my focus was because I immediately thought that 77, when you know two others are guessing behind you, is a poor opening salvo. What this became over the last two days – and now involves my workmate/probability geek as well as X – is this: what are the best numbers to choose if you are picking first, second, and/or third? I’ve added variants to the game that include closest without going over (the Price is Right version), and writing down a number on a secret ballot where if two pick the same number they are eliminated (the You Can’t Just Write 50 version). I’ll save you our endless discussions and thoughts and just let you play the game on your own. If you have three kids around – or two kids and a crazy wife – have them give a try and see what happens…but don’t give them any background before the first round. One additional input: since humans aren’t actually good at randomly selecting a number, go online and Google-up a random number generator and use that as your source for the final, winning, answer.

you have something to say?

The Atlantic online site, or at least the commentary sites, have undergone an overhaul of sorts and the one comment-allowing site that I read, Coates, reposted his comment rules; it seemed a natural point to do so. I have to say that the commenters on his his site are very involved, and the discussions, more times than not, add some depth to his his posts. The only reason that I'm hitting on this is because he brings up a great new rule, #6, that hits upon one of the funniest threads that ever evolved.

I've created a new vocabulary word that may seem harsh but somehow fits many situations: fuckstration and/or fuckstrated. Feel free to roll it around in you head and use when you feel it may be appropriate

I've dove into Eating Animals by Jonathan Safran Foer last night; one the few books that got me in pretty deep after just a few pages. Of course, what he points out - what you think the book will be when you first read the title - is indicative of the road he'll take me down. You have no idea how much discussion can be covered when consider dogs v. other animals.

Last week I printed out a copy of the short essay entitled Message to Garcia after a discussion at work. I'd never heard the story but I know gold when I see it; and this is gold. The Eleven spoke about it on the phone for a bit and she ended up sitting the kids down and reading them the story on Saturday afternoon. From the other room, in mid-story, I suddenly heard H. say, "wait a minute, I think I know where this is going..." Smart boy, that one. Feel free to google away

I only have a few weeks left of this first quarter of school - going very well.

I think there's a bit of snow possible for Wednesday and I'm calling it the final snow of the year

More later

t

no dazzle. bedazzle.

I had a very nice birthday yesterday – well, aside from the shoveling part - and even that wasn’t so bad. Thanks to everyone for wishes, cards, and gifts.

When I got home from a half-day’s work I was treated to the theatre in our living room as a birthday gift from the long-time resident monkeys and the newest monkey. It was very entertaining and special; since it was only opening night of the production I don’t want to spoil it for anyone else until after the weekend. Mark your calendars.

The Eleven headed up to the Greek Taverna in McLean for dinner last night after we settled the kids in with food and a movie. We decided on the Taverna for two reasons: we love Greek food, and Caps’ owner Ted Leonsis (of Greek-American descent) says it’s the best Greek in the area. Good enough. We absolutely loaded up on appetizers and ate until we could eat no more. Even though the reviews on Yelp! are mixed, I can answer that issue posthaste: they do some authentic work there and they’re not trying to bedazzle you with overdone, Americanized Greek food. Everything we had was done well and we wouldn’t think twice about going back or sending anyone else there.

Our weather has stabilized for the weekend and I’ll finally be back in class tonight. I think I have a few mid-terms to be made up.

I’m carting all the kids to see Percy Jackson and the Olympians on Sunday morning. Being that it’s L’s favorite series of all-time, and she has some heft to compare it to, we’re quite worried that it won’t live up to book. We’re keeping our fingers crossed.

Love to all.

t