a tin cup for all these nickels

When did a cup of Starbucks coffee become that standard measure against magazine subscriptions, NPR membership drives, and any other contributable financial matters? Why doesn’t the NPR semi-annual membership campaign say things like, “For a $120 donation, and that’s only $10 per month, Beverly, the same as what you might spend on a dime bag,” instead of continually harping on the cost of a Starbucks? Listen, I don’t drink Starbucks often and, quite frankly, their coffee isn’t great, but I don’t think that they should be singled out in the $5 spending realm. How about you don’t buy the NYTimes on Sunday ($6), or that Happy Meal for the kid ($4-$6), or drive 20 fewer miles in your Hummer H3?

H has an assignment for his science class – and something that will also be a project of sorts for the school’s science fair. There are something like 46 pages of rules (nothing illegal, no fires, no using animals, etc.), but there is also some bullshit requirement that the student can’t repeat any other experiment or project…..THAT’S EVER BEEN DONE. Ever. Anywhere. If the moronic science teacher can Google up your suggested thesis, and find any indication that Newton, Einstein, or Darwin have attempted what you’ve put forth, think again. Anything. Ever. Really? They are expecting 15 year-olds to come up with something completely new to the scientific world; something never pondered or subject to experiment? On the basis of the Fairfax County School procedures I think the Wright Brothers would have failed class because someone else had already ‘tried to fly’. Remember that guy with his wings, wax, and the approach to the Sun? Yeah, him. “Sorry, Orville and Wilbur, you fail the class because you tried something that had already been done. Granted, you did actually fly so I’ll give you an F+.”

do not

I’ve been hand-making donuts at my weekend gig for the last six weeks. That’s not at the heart of this story, but I can at least vaguely tie into some professional donut qualification.

There’s a small Dunkin’ Donuts inside the shoppette here on base (for those non-mil types, the shoppette is essentially the combo gas station/7-11 on base). Since I walk right by while heading to work, I usually grab a cup of coffee to get me through the morning. The problem of the Dunkin’ Donuts is multi-faceted, but I only care to address today’s issue: buying dozens of donuts for work. Aside from the fact that I don’t care to stand in line while you buy three dozen donuts, what exactly are you doing with the individual donut type selection? Let’s imagine you’re buying two dozen donuts for your office. (For those who’ve worked in the same nozzle plant for a million years, play along.) Do you have the knowledge and personal connection to the donut eaters to know whether they like filled, cake, raised, sprinkles, chocolate, maple, etc.? Would you be standing in line thinking that Debbie in accounting would definitely want a bear claw with her coffee? Oh, and make sure to get a jelly-filled and a custard-filled donuts for Doug and Bob in shipping (they are always referred to as ‘Doug and Bob’ because they are like an old, married couple who’ve working in shipping for 15 years). How about just firing off the “fill two dozen boxes with a full mix of what you have up there” accepted technique and letting the donut artists do their job? We can be rid of you in about one minute instead of the 10 minutes I’m standing behind you listening to “one maple cake…..(pause)……two of the sprinkle ones. No the purple sprinkles not the white one. No the purple frosting, not the sprinkles. (Pause) (Pause) Two of the plain glazed. One maple cake. Wait, I already have one of those. (Pause) Two of the…..”

(fade to death)

what is....

We returned to Quiz Night last evening. Since I’m out of class this quarter it opens up our Monday night options; but not next Monday night, as that’s my first Caps game of the new season.

It was a small crowd, team-wise, and we did quite well with our 61 points – good for third place. The first- and second-place team scores? 63 and 62, respectively. We had our shot at glory and couldn’t quite pull it off. Don’t think that we didn’t spend a bit of time figuring out where we shed points. How about this one: What is the chemical symbol for Tin? Our team? Nothing. Couldn’t come up with an answer to save our lives. But, Phil was able to successfully answer a question where Austin Power: Goldmember was correct. Priorities.

I’m not sure that I can claim to have been too busy to notice that Jolie Holland has a new CD out – not sure how I missed it, and am I really ever too busy? Was I not paying attention? She played here last month and I couldn’t make it this time around, but her touring should have been indicative of new music. Not always, but often. It’s a dash of serendipity that there’s new music after three years because I’ve probably listened to The Living and the Dead about a thousand times in the last month. I have no idea what brought me back to it ; but you can take that for what it’s worth. As a parting gift, I’ll pass along a song that’s moved way up into my favorite song of all-time list, Palmyra. The album version is a full-band (or multi-track) soiree, this is just Holland delivered a stunning acoustic version. Great stuff.

man with gun

I bag my own groceries; we all understand this fact. I was at TJ’s yesterday, doing what I do, and the cashier is hell-bent on my dozen eggs and where I’ve decided is their final resting place. Trust me - the eggs were fine in their vertical position at the top of my well-strong reusable bag. She was overly worried that they might fall out. What happens if they fall out? What? Nothing. They won’t fall out, I’ve got this wired – and, I’m not going to be swinging my bags around above my head as I amble to the car. She’s really worried about this; so worried that she pulls out a wine bottle paper bag and offers to put that around my dozen eggs. Thanks, that’ll help if I get mowed over by a truck – which is the only thing that will cause a breakage of my eggs.

I then stopped at another grocery store to pick up ice (for Tom Collins-es at Pizza Night), and lunches for the boys. (They like these 90-second meals that cost about $1.50 each.) I’m a pre-scanner at this store – you sign up for a program, you get a scanning gun that lets you scan and bag your goods, and then you walk up the self-checkout lanes, and fire away.* I get to the lane and attempt to make the final scan of the account closing barcode at the register and my suddenly my gun dies. Not the oft-malfunctioning death, the actual no power death. Are you fucking kidding me? Jesus. Now I have to remove my 12, $1.50 lunches, and 5 lb. bag of ice and scan this crap. Needless to say, the clerk who sort of mans the self checkouts can see that I’m a wee pissed off at this development. She wisely stays away. As I start zipping the lunches over the scanner and down the belt, the fucking machine stops after about six and ‘lets me know’ know something: “The bagging area is full, Please bag items before continuing.” What? Now I’m really irritated – six microwave lunches, and it’s full! The clerk wanders nervously to my lane and starts to pull some of the items off the highly technical, weight-sensing, NASA-produced, piece-of-shit belt so that I don’t kill someone. I start scanning again and super whipping things the eight feet to the end of the ‘bagging area’ mere milliseconds after she removes her in-danger hands. She quickly backs away and returns to the security of her podium. Damn right. I finish scanning, walk down, re-bag my loot, and shoot her a look of ‘crazy old man’ as I depart, stage right.

Am I wrong?

*By the way, there should be two lanes just for us gunslingers. As it is, there are six lanes that any smoothbrain can use for self checkout. I don’t have time for ‘Bob’ to ponder using self checkout and then spending HOURS trying to weigh and enter codes for his produce. You can do that crap in the produce section, where they have the scales and stickers, and save us all a lot of heartache.

surreys and things....

A few months ago one on my all-time favorite podcasts changed format. Musicheads, at The Current, decided it would be best to go from a high-quality product with reviews of three new albums to a Blender-like pile of junk. I miss Musicheads, and for good reason: I probably got 10-12 new artists or CDs out of the reviews over the course of a year.

This got me thinking this morning as I was commuting to work. My commute is longish, but quite pleasant: walk, bus, train, train, bus, walk (it's an anagram!). Anyway, I rip through endless podcasts once again, and my list of greats has changed a bit. Much like great musical artists - it's hard to keep it going for years without losing freshness. So, aside from Musicheads, which was one of my all-time favorites, here's a good list: The Moth, WTF with Marc Maron (my new favorite), and Splendid Table. Truth be told, Splendid Table should wear much thinner than it does, but I'm a food junkie so it's forgiven. Great stuff every week. I still run through This American Life, Car Talk, and Wait Wait! every week (simply because of the vast time to fill), but I don't feel committed. As an aside, I'm quite comforted by Prairie Home Companion, but they don't podcast the entire show each week. I've been listening for about 25 years and I'd be happy enough to catch up each week - never happens. Also, a call out to Thistle and Shamrock - what? you can't put up a podcast? Are you living in the 1990s with Garrison? I digress.

I'm going to Oklahoma! tomorrow night with WonderTwin2. We've learned a few things over the last few months: neither WonderTwin1 nor Corey could give a shit about musicals. I, for one, love all theatre, and it appears that Kt loves musicals so we are on for theatre dates. I don't sing. I don't dance, but I love some live performances. I also prior to the '(hating musicals' revolution) grabbed her two tickets for the Billy Elliot musical at Kennedy later this year - a box so her and Angry Bear could go on a nice date - but now I suspect she might have to coax him out of the den with the promise of a nice dinner at Cedar. Food often will soothe beasts.

I have and entire post-and-a-half about X and the Missoni sale at Target from earlier this month. I need to gather the narrative before I expose the World.

Love to all.

t

i order the large cup of coffee

Well, maybe I’m settled in after nearly three months at the new job. Plus, I’m out of school for a quarter so I’ll have all my evening free until after the New Year (I only have one quarter left, but they aren’t offering two of the last three classes I need so I’m in holding for a bit). I am working a brunch on Saturdays and Sundays (at least until about Thanksgiving) so sleeping in and weekend days are a bit garbled up.

Apparently there’s a coffee mug in the house that X doesn’t care to use. It’s one she brought home not long ago, and it mirrors any number of big, bulky,’ bust-a-head’ open mugs that we’ve gathered over the years. The funny thing is that about a week ago I found the mug stored in a cupboard above the microwave (there’s nothing up there but rarely used dry goods) when I was grabbing some pasta. I figured that Henry has put it up there while fulfilling his duty as dishwasher emptier – even though that made no real sense – so I took it down and used it a day or two later for coffee. I hadn’t realized it had gone missing again until Monday night when I went to the cloth napkin drawer at dinner, and there it was tucked away with the linen. What the hell? Now I knew that Henry was crazy: the napkin drawer on the other side of the kitchen? I put it on the counter as I headed back to the table and it was then that X pointed out, in a threateningly/meek manner, that she didn’t like that mug and didn’t want any coffee in it…ever. So, instead of simply saying that she didn’t like the mug – and we didn’t get into any detail in that area because I was laughing too hard – she was attempting to hide it “where I wouldn’t find it.” This is reminiscent of her pointing out a few years back that she didn’t care for shitake mushrooms (after three years of my using them), and last month where she said she didn’t want hummus ever again. I caught me a good one.

reset

Pizza night has slowed over the summer; not happenings, just folks. We have only four last week and four this week (swapping out one kid for another). 'Tis fig season, finally, so we've gone with a white sauce with: figs, heavily smoked salmon, rosemary, and feta - all a gamble. L. is staying true to her bacon, pepperoni, and cream cheese.

I'm now officially working another job - for career ideas, not money - on the weekends. I'll be working a pastry-baking line position at a strongly considered place in Arlington. With the school quarter nearly over, and being off next quarter - I'll be swapping my weekends for being home during the week in the evenings, at least for three months. There will be further evaluation after the New Year.

The house situation has turned. As expected (at least on my part), the sane member of our landlord's house has essentially called in and canceled the whole sordid 60-day notice affair. That means we aren't under a time constraint, though we'll keep looking, and we can actually consider this house as an option.

We've been hit with the remnants of Irene and a pretty good earthquake this week, but we've survived with no damage or worry.

what what

I haven't been here for awhile. I pop in to get back on track and there's some racy picture of Katy Perry and her tits. Strange.

Okay, quick-and-dirty update, not in chronological or order of importance:

We got 60-day notice to move. We are looking to buy. Deadline: October 15th.

I have a new job. Very nice, challenging. Cutting into my blogging.

School is going well-ish, but getting bored. Have an instructor who's horrid.

Looks like I may take a pastry/baking weekend gig at a good restaurant in Arlington.
Finally saw Kasey Chambers in concert last month.

L and I saw Cate Blanchett and Hugo Weaving in Uncle Vanya at Kennedy Center last night.

L went to Victoria for about a month, but is home now: had fun.

Boys are in Wisconsin, back later next week.

Life, for all its shit, is good.

I actually love everyone.

tits up

Here you have it. What may be the single worst set of lyrics I've ever heard. Believe me when I say this, I've listened to "Friday" by Rebecca Black too many times to not know; Katy Perry, are you serious? Even if you aren't, these are horrible. To hear them sung, as I did while driving and switching stations (I'm rarely off NPR). Good. Lord.

Do you ever feel like a plastic bag
Drifting through the wind
Wanting to start again

Do you ever feel, feel so paper thin
Like a house of cards
One blow from caving in

Do you ever feel already buried deep
Six feet under scream
But no one seems to hear a thing

Do you know that there's still a chance for you
Cause there's a spark in you

You just gotta ignite the light
And let it shine
Just own the night
Like the Fourth of July

Cause baby you're a firework
Come on show 'em what you're worth
Make 'em go "Oh, oh, oh!"
As you shoot across the sky-y-y

Baby you're a firework
Come on let your colors burst
Make 'em go "Oh, oh, oh!"
You're gunna leave 'em fallin' down-own-own

You don't have to feel like a waste of space
You're original, cannot be replaced
If you only knew what the future holds
After a hurricane comes a rainbow

Maybe you're reason why all the doors are closed
So you could open one that leads you to the perfect road
Like a lightning bolt, your heart will blow
And when it's time, you'll know

You just gotta ignite the light
And let it shine
Just own the night
Like the Fourth of July

Cause baby you're a firework
Come on show 'em what you're worth
Make 'em go "Oh, oh, oh!"
As you shoot across the sky-y-y

Baby you're a firework
Come on let your colors burst
Make 'em go "Oh, oh, oh!"
You're gonna leave 'em all in awe-awe-awe"

Boom, boom, boom
Even brighter than the moon, moon, moon
It's always been inside of you, you, you
And now it's time to let it through

Cause baby you're a firework
Come on show 'em what your worth
Make 'em go "Oh, oh, oh!"
As you shoot across the sky-y-y

Baby you're a firework
Come on slet your colors burst
Make 'em go "Oh, oh, oh!"
You're gonna leave 'em all in awe-awe-awe

Boom, boom, boom
Even brighter than the moon, moon, moon
Boom, boom, boom
Even brighter than the moon, moon, moon

And, for you're enjoyment. Apparently, Katy is know for her tits, and based on this, at least she has that going for her.


Katy Perry - Firework (Official Music Video) by ChaOko_01

I went and saw Kasey Chambers over the weekend. I don't have time for a longish review here, but I may get to it. Needless to say, she's the opposite of Ms. Perry on the scale of...well, everything. Even though her husband, Shane, wasn't on this tour, there's still a great story about singing this duet with him. Go Australia!

a trail of rage and melody

Everyone survived the long 4th of July weekend. We bought some fireworks that are still sitting on the porch because our streetmates busted out some (barely) "legal" fireworks and put on quite a show. L and I spent the early darkness sitting in lawn chairs in the street while watching, considering legal action, and applauding the show.

I decided to go autobiogs at the bookstore last weekend. It started with Hitch-22 (the memoirs of Christopher Hitchens), and moved onto See a Little Light by Bob Mould. Mould is one of the true geniuses/chameleons of the music business. He survived the blast furnace of his first band, Husker Du; went more harmonic with Sugar, and now does some great solo work along with DJing 'rave' nights (of a sort) across the U.S. At 50, he's produced a massive catalog of high quality work. He's a first vote hall of fame guy.

We believe the boys to still be alive in the midst of their second week of adventure camp up in Vermont. We'll know for sure when they show up on a plane Saturday evening.

The rest of the summer's horizon is pretty clear: vacations are done, heat and humidity are fully in place.

I'm settling in at the new job and enjoying a change of pace. My commute is now the other way - into D.C. - but the Metro and buses are doing me just fine.

I wanted to post this yesterday, but never go to it. David Brooks apparently woke-up with a pea in his mattress. Or, the Republicans. Nice call out on his part. I'm on the messenger.

"Over the past few years, [the GOP} has been infected by a faction that is more of a psychological protest than a practical, governing alternative."

"The members of this movement do not accept the legitimacy of scholars and intellectual authorities."

"The members of this movement have no sense of moral decency."

Thanks, David.

oh, my!

She's back after eight years. We'll see her the first week of August at Strathmore. If this is any indication of the rest of the album, this will be a very, fine summer.

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.

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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.