Tree Huggin' Bacon Luvin'

Listening to my legs

2011-11-22T06:34:00.000-10:00

I am dedicating this post to Mikey, my running yogi. I was going to say running coach, but that would imply that we've actually run in each other's presence. I really only talk with him about running and read his blog. He's just too damn fast for me to run with.

A few things to note before I get into the full point of my story. First of all, I have never considered myself a runner. This is despite the fact that I have run for fun, in races, or for team sports my entire life. I ran cross country in middle school and early high school, played varsity sports my whole academic career, and have finished several marathons, half-marathons and plenty of 5ks. And yet, I never thought I was a true runner. You know, one of those people who don't think a day is complete without a jog, those wiry types who wins races.

Part of the reason behind this could be that I'm extremely slow when I run. And this could be because I'm both overweight and have asthma (I don't know what my excuse was when I was thin and didn't have asthma, but let's just overlook that minor detail). I also have herniated disks in my back and have been told that running is not a good idea, especially long distances, which is what I prefer to do. At one point in my running career, I even switched to race walking to reduce the impact on my back and still be able to go longer distances. And no self-respecting runner would ever do the waddle walk when a perfectly good run could be had.

So there you have it. I'm not a runner. And yet ... I find myself more and more loving running. About a year-and-a-half ago, when I was training for a race, I had a series of dreams where I was out for a mid-afternoon jog. The sunlight was coming through the trees, the path was wide and flat in front of me, and I was happy as could be in each dream. I would wake up and really want to go for a run. And funny thing is, I had a great time doing it. When I didn't get a run in for whatever reason during that time, I felt a little itchy and would get out as soon as I could.

Fast forward to this year, when I fell and broke a bone in my leg and spent several months not running or half-running/walking with rehab thrown in. I felt like a lard (and was) and could feel my asthma in every day activities. But the worst part was that I wasn't right in my head. I wasn't happy that I couldn't go out for a trot without pain. I wasn't spending quality time with my dog either. It was just bad. It dawned on me, perhaps, I actually am a runner.

So what does this have to do with listening to my legs? Now that I've been given clearance to run again, I've signed up for a half marathon. As I've been running, I've been feeling my asthma in a bad way and every hill I hit is like a slap in the face (well, really the lungs). On multiple occasions, I've stopped to walk up a hill simply because I couldn't get a complete breath and my lungs burned. At those moments, I would hear that nagging, negative voice creep in that maybe I'm not a runner after all. I'm too slow, I stop to walk too easily, I don't have the will power to get through the pain. (Anyone with asthma will understand this is not always an option, but tell that to the voice in my head.)

Gloriously, today, I had a breakthrough. Today, I decided to just run slowly. The whole time. And I decided that rather listen to my lungs, which often tell me to stop, I would listen to my legs, which are the things that move me forward and very rarely hurt. So today, I just hit every uphill stretch very slowly, evenly pacing myself on the downhills as well. My lungs didn't hurt once. It was pouring rain, the dog was at my side, and I don't think I've had a better run in months. Best of all, I shaved 3 minutes off my normal time for this particular route (a minute a mile) because I didn't walk and felt the high at the end of my run that I only usually get after longer ones.

So from now on, I will be listening to my legs. I'll keep telling myself that slow and steady wins the race. Why? Because I am a runner.

A belated post, Mikey

2011-10-18T06:58:00.000-09:00

As I was walking this morning, I was struck by the number of American flags flying in front of people's houses. Arlington is a fairly patriotic part of Virginia, but today it seemed even more so. I wondered if it had to do with the impending tenth anniversary of 9/11. Or perhaps, in a more uplifting way, it was in anticipation of the dedication of the long-overdue Martin Luther King memorial on the Mall.

Lost in thoughts like this, I next heard the sound of one of these flags snapping in the wind, and the word freedom immediately came to mind. An instant association. I wondered if the sound conjured up the word freedom because that's my basic association with our flag. Then I thought about it more and realized that the sound is exactly that of a sail luffing and puffing.

To me, there are few places on earth where I feel more free than in a boat on the water. Put together, though, the sound of the flag and its true beauty and meaning, I think it's fair to say that I only have that deep sense of freedom out on the water because I live in the country I do.

And for that, I'm very grateful.

A re-trend?

2011-09-03T13:44:00.000-09:00

For the last several months and maybe for the last year even, I have noticed a growing trend in Arlington. It involves people walking down the street while reading books. These people do not walk very fast, typically, but they also never look up from their books, even when passing another person on the sidewalk. They appear to be totally engrossed.

I am used to seeing people read to the exclusion of everything around them on the subway, but not on the sidewalk. So I have been wondering what has prompted the rise in sidewalk readers.

From my observations, the readers are typically young and typically male, although I have spotted a handful of female sidewalk readers. This fact - that they are generally young - leads me to believe that this is not a trend that has much to do with books in and of themselves, but rather something more to do with the fact that we have programmed the next generation to always be engaged in something even while doing basic tasks. Something along the lines of ... if they can't have their device doing something, then they will enjoy something as 1990 as a book (1990 being the last time you could safely say books were "in").

With a little research, I've found that there is help for the novice sidewalk reader. Wikihow has instructions on how to read while walking. People have chimed in on Yelp about it, and there is even a Reading While Walking page on Facebook.

Clearly, I'm fascinated with this trend and have questions. Are the readers really absorbing what they read or is it more of a post-modernist statement? Do they mean to shut the world out while they walk and if so, why not just wear ear buds and an iPod? Speaking of iPods, why not just get the book on "tape" via an MP3 player? And more curious, given the ages of the readers, do they not have iPads? I thought everyone younger than me has an iPad.

One thing I can be certain of, I will not be joining this trend. For no other reason than I would likely be a statistic and the first person killed reading while walking. Now reading on the subway, that's a whole other story.

Press Release: 2011 Turtle Trot 5k and Free Family-Friendly Turtle-Themed Events, Saturday, May 21

2011-05-12T04:16:00.000-09:00

Arlington County's Department of Parks, Recreation and Cultural Resources is hosting the first-ever Turtle Trot 5k race on Saturday, May 21, at South Bluemont Park (601 North Manchester Street, North 4th Street Entrance, Arlington, VA 22203). This is a chip-timed, certified 5k race to support Arlington’s turtle and wildlife rehabilitation and education programs.

Advanced registration for the 2011 Turtle Trot takes place via www.Active.com. Registration fees are $30 for adults and $15 for kids 12 and under. (Registration fee reductions are available to qualified individuals; call 703-525-0168.) Check-in and day-of registration for the race starts at 9 a.m. at the Lower Bluemont picnic shelter accessible from the North 4th Street entrance near the soccer fields off of Manchester Street. The race starts at 10 a.m. For more information, visit:
http://www.arlingtonva.us/departments/ParksRecreation/scripts/nature/TurtleTrot5K.aspx.

The Turtle Trot also includes a number of free events at the picnic shelter from 10:30 a.m. through 1 p.m. Watch an actual turtle race, take part in making turtle crafts, play turtle-themed games, jump on the moon bounce or have your face painted. Naturalists will also be on hand to answer your questions about Arlington’s turtles.

The 2011 Turtle Trot is sponsored by the Arlington County Department of Parks, Recreation and Cultural Resources (PRCR). The 2011 Turtle Trot 5k also enjoys generous support and prize give-aways from local merchants, including Chick-fil-A, Arlington Community Federal Credit Union, Shirlington Self Storage, Mr. Wash Car Wash, and Kinder Haus Toys.

Everybody Has a Story

2011-05-11T04:06:00.000-09:00

I recently had dinner with my cousin, who moved to the area in the last year. She has taken on several volunteer projects in her building, including writing the community newsletter. During cocktails, she mentioned that she had interviewed a 94-year-old woman for one of her articles.

When I asked what the article would be about, my cousin said there ended up being no article after the interview. Instead, she told me about the conversation with the older woman, which had started because my cousin had gone to take photos of the fountain outside the building and this woman had been there with her helper. My cousin took the photo for the newsletter with the two women in it and later took copies of the photos to them as a gift. Both women were thrilled to receive the photos, and the older woman mentioned how happy she was to have a visitor that afternoon because she had been terribly lonely. My cousin was struck by this and so she stayed and interviewed (had a conversation with) the older woman. My cousin learned a bit about this woman's background and helped her overcome her loneliness. She said, "It was nice to hear this woman's story." And that's just it, everyone has a story.

I was reminded of this again last night as I had dinner with someone I've become friends with over the last six months. He and I went out to watch a hockey game, and over dinner and drinks I learned about his very nontraditional childhood and its effect on his views about religion, politics, work, and relationships. He shared stories about having grown up relatively poor, his lack of formal education as a child, his father's death, and life growing up in an exotic location. We barely watched the game because I was so fascinated by this person's totally unique experiences and world view - and the fact that I'd known him for six months and was just now learning all of this - that I couldn't stop asking questions.

And that is why I write. Because everybody has a story. I like knowing them, and I love sharing them.

Frog Lullaby

2011-04-25T18:16:00.001-09:00

There is nothing like the sound of a frog and toad chorus on a spring night from a vernal pool. I grew up with this music, which I listened to from our second-floor screened in porch. Often, I'd sit in the dark, sometimes just with a candle, listening to the echoing, vibrating sounds. To this day, I can't hear frogs and toads without getting a little drowsy.

I recorded about a minute of the music tonight, but apparently it's harder to post an audio file online than it is to get into Fort Knox. (I love how old a reference that is - I feel like Bugs Bunny might jump off the page at any minute.)

I'm sorry I can't share. But just know that I'll be falling asleep to the lullaby of frogs and toads shortly. Zzz....

Head Full of Doubt, Road Full of Promise

2011-04-24T07:07:00.000-09:00

If you’re loved by someone, you’re never rejected Decide what to be and go be it

Oh Avett Brothers, thanks for writing this song, especially today as I'm pondering big thoughts like what my true nature is and who I want to be as a person. You're right. I should just decide what to be and go be it.

Thanks.

The Long Nothing

2011-04-23T02:50:00.000-09:00

This is the first Saturday morning in 2011 that I have woken up ready, willing and able to go for a long run. The rest of the Saturdays before this, I've either been to tired, too fuzzy from the night before or too lazy to go. And that pretty much sums up my first four months of 2011.

I started the year with all kinds of purpose and plans, but for some reason decided to instead regress to a way of living I haven't seen since my 20s. Not that it hasn't been amusing and garnered some good memories and new friends, but there's not really been any there there. It's like being on a solid diet of cotton candy and popcorn.

I'd love to say that today is the day that I turn 2011 around and get focused on some of the big life projects I have going on. But I've said that about 14 times since 2011 started and am getting tired of hearing myself say it. Not to mention, I have more than a few social engagements today that I'm gladly going to and which will inevitably lead to a renewed lack of focus.

So how long will the long nothing period last? Longer than I suspect, I have a feeling.

Birds on the Brain

2011-03-31T08:20:00.000-09:00

Today has been quite the bird watching day and that's odd because it's 39 degrees and rainy and I've been working since 7:30 a.m., including a trip to the office and back. And yet I still managed to see a few cool things.
It's been raining for about 20 hours now and so all of the deck furniture is wet, including a metal chair which has big, fat drops of water hanging off of its frame. If you've ever wondered where birds get their water when there are no pools, ponds or streams around, just watch a Northern Mockingbird on a rainy day. I watched one hop very methodically across the frame of the chair, puttings its beak up to each drop and sucking them all down, one by one. It was truly amazing to see this up close.

Then a Song Sparrow came to the deck and carefully picked up every stray dog hair out there. It went over my back doormat like a vacuum, and its beak was full of a huge wad of white fur in no time. I'd love to see the nest when its done. I might even be inspired to brush the dog outside so all of the birds can have fur-lined nests.

I suppose I should also add that the yard has been full of Juncos all day picking up as many seeds as they can before heading north. And, not to be outdone, the squirrels are getting frisky on the oak tree right outside my window. Spring has sprung indeed!

Beloved Trees

2011-02-27T18:02:00.001-10:00

Today I was at what used to be my father's house cleaning up the tree destruction from the last few wind storms. 60 mile-an-hour winds really do some damage on older trees. Two trees in particular took major hits - a red cedar and a pussy willow (okay, it's a shrub, but work with me). These were two beloved trees of my father's and mine, and seeing them so damaged really cut me to the quick.

The red cedar was a tree given to me by my grandfather when I was maybe five years old. It was the beginning of a multi-year tradition where he would bring me a potted "Christmas tree" from his farm. Just a volunteer seedling really, but all decked out for the holiday. The tree would go in my bedroom and on Christmas Eve, Santa would leave me a few presents that I was allowed to open before anyone else got up. It was a brilliant idea of my mother's and garnered her hours of extra sleep on Christmas morning because I was fully entertained by these presents and stayed quiet and in my room.

Each year, the trees were saved until spring and planted throughout our yard. Two of them remain and have grown into 40-foot specimens. Gorgeous and lush. But so sad today with one completely topped and another missing a major limb. The split cedar still smelling so fresh where it lay.

And the pussy willow. This was one of Dad's all-time favorites. He would order them every year from a catalogue and try to grow them all over the yard. I'm fairly certain his fondness for them started as a child, where he had them in his yard. He would worry over them - the deer love to rut on them, they break easily, they don't take to the clay soil here like they do to the rich soils of Illinois, and so on. But every year in February, he would cut a few branches, put them in a vase in a cool room of the house and force them to blossom. So soft and so unique.

Today, as I was cutting up the remains of the willow, I noticed that the very top blossoms had started to come out. I cut a few branches to bring them inside and had a moment talking with Dad, asking if I should get some new saplings or try something different in its place. And just as I was getting a bit teary, thinking of the things he knew and loved that are slowly going away, a barred owl hooted just over my head as loud as can be. (It was 3 in the afternoon so a bit out of context.) Now I'm not saying it was Dad sending me a message to get over myself and get back to work, but it did give me pause that the "wise" owl was the one that talked to me in that moment, and not the hawk I saw a few minutes later sitting on a tree watching me work.

The funny thing is that years ago, I wrote a short story called, "I Watched Them Cut Down the Walnut Tree." It was about the walnut tree that hung over our swimming pool, one which I hated forever because it dropped its tannin-filled leaves and nuts into the pool and I had to clean up after it. For years, I asked my dad to cut this tree down, but he refused. It was one of his beloved trees. In the story, he had just passed away and my first act was to cut down this walnut tree, only I couldn't because it was like cutting off another piece of my father. That walnut tree stands about 20 feet from the cedars and from the pussy willow that took such a big hit. And I'm happy to report that not a limb was out of place on that damned walnut tree. Naturally.

Personal vocabulary

2011-02-15T03:39:00.000-10:00

Looking at the tile in my bathtub today and the watermarks there, I said out loud, "I have to get some Bab-O and really scrub that soon."

It stopped me cold. Bab-O. A product not made since the 1950s or so, but one that my father and mother referred to often when it came to cleaning. And now it's part of my lexicon, and it brings the two of them back to me immediately.

Just like when I say, "T'ain't funny, McGee," when someone makes a dumb comment or mocks me. A one-liner from Fibber McGee and Molly, a radio show that I wasn't even alive to hear, but an active part of my memory. Dad used this phrase to keep me in line if I was lipping off. And now, when I say it, only Nick knows what I'm talking about because he listens to old radio shows in the shop.

Mom had her phrases too. I was always her bubala. She's not Jewish, but having grown up in the Bronx in the 1940s, she picked up her fair share of Yiddish. Guessing I was one of the only kids in McLean in the 1970s being called that. Or her favorite phrase when coddling/teasing...ism-wism-mosum-moosum. Probably another variant of something Yiddish. I doubt she even remembers where she got that one, but it sounds like an oldie.

Growing up, I used tin foil. We watched moving pictures. And Mom and Dad fought over using oleo or butter. All phrases that no longer make sense in a post-industrial, Internet world. But still, they are lodged firmly - and used often - in my own personal vocabulary and they make me feel instantly close to the people who shared them with me.

The Graduate, again and again

2011-02-11T17:03:00.000-10:00

Shouldn't this movie be required viewing for all 21-year-olds? And then again at every major life stage we have? I don't know of many films that hit me every time in the emotional gut quite like this one does. Each time I see it, I see something new. Whether it's the lack of a plan for a young person, detachment between generations, moral ambiguity about sex, love at first sight, just everything.

And each time I also watch it in a new way from a film-making and writing perspective. The writing is spare and doesn't get in the way, which is a gift to this film, because the shot-making is superb. Benjy in the shadows, Mrs. Robinson in profile and in the dark, shots of the monkey cage behind the fence "Do Not Tease" sign shown prominently, the use of water throughout, shots from Elaine's girlish perspective, Buck Henry framed by the front desk asking "Are you here for an affair?", and on and on.

And then there's the sound track. Of course, Simon and Garfunkel's lyrics are an integral part of the script and the music timed to the action is superb (when the car breaks down on the way to the church and the music slowly grinds to a stop - has that ever been repeated as well?). But the real hidden art in this film is the use and lack of use of background noise. Benjy underwater for minutes - no noise - we're trapped with him. Complete silence in other parts juxtaposed with the Sound of Silence. And the car traffic, TV, toast popping, rhythmic pounding on the glass in the church - take each scene to a different level.

What can I say. I'm a huge fan. Thanks, Mike Nichols.

Running away from home

2011-02-08T18:04:00.000-10:00

On many occasions as a child, I would take one of my dad's bandanas, fill it with packages of Juicy Fruit and cans of Pepsi, tie it to a stick and walk - bundle over shoulder - as far as I could away from home. I would end up at the far corner of our neighbor's yard or a way down the next street over before I got tired. Sometimes I would make it to the high school next door and sit in the parking lot on a curb. I would chew the gum, drink a can of soda, sit for a while and just look around. I would wonder about this new place, explore a tree, creek bank or gutter, and then eventually return home.

I loved - and still love - running away from home. I don't think I will ever outgrow the feeling of wanting to pack up a bundle and go until I want to stop. In grad school, I would make carefully constructed lists of things to take on my motorcycle across country. It mostly involved a favorite pair of jeans, sunglasses, a boyfriend's sweater, and many mixed tapes, and the lists got me through many finance and accounting classes.

When I was 30, I did run away from home, away from everything I knew, and found myself in New Zealand. One of the best feelings I have ever had was sitting on a bench with two people (now great friends) and asking ourselves why we were leaving a remote, idyllic town on the North Island. We didn't have anywhere to be, our tickets were open-ended, and we could get jobs that paid under the table for as long as we wanted. We threw the schedule, such as it was, out the window, and stayed for many more months. One of my friends even ended up marrying a man from the town and is still there.

Now that I am older, the fantasies really haven't changed that much. I still want to pack it all in and just go. Pick a place at random, meet new people, be anonymous and stay for a while with no responsibilities. It's a freeing feeling. It comes on during times of great stress and during times of great happiness.

The only thing holding me back today is a bit of real estate, a dog and a cat, which means the fantasy lists have changed a bit. On my vacation last week, instead of mapping out mixed tapes, I planned how to bring the dog with me, what I would do to make sure the cat was taken care of, how to rent the houses while I was gone, and where I would go.

I don't think this wanderlust reflects my inability to commit to something, as a friend has challenged me recently. The idea of something unknown and new around the corner is a powerful draw for a curious person. It's not wrong to want to see new things and meet new people, throw yourself into something you've never done, and test yourself in new ways. And these days, I actually want to run away from home with someone else, which I think shows a decided lack of fear of commitment.

At the end of the day, I know that my running away from home is not wrong or a manifestation of some inner failing because I know that after I've had my fill of new experiences, bubble gum and soda, I can always come home. And I do.

Crazy in our lives

2011-01-27T07:57:00.000-10:00

One of my favorite things in the world is hearing and telling stories. It's really what I live for. And through life some stories really stick with you. Some day, I will group them into collections and publish them: best traditions, best family travelogues, greatest disgusting or horrific stories, saddest stories and so on. One category that I especially love revolves around the plain old crazy that occurs in every day life and that people become so accustomed to that they no longer view it as different or odd.

One story that has stayed with me since I heard it often comes to me as I wash dishes. Years ago a friend told me that her mother-in-law would use her nice china for events, parties and such, and rather than washing them when done, she would "wipe them off" and put them back in the cabinet until the next event. Only then would she wash them properly in the sink with soap and water. The apparent logic here is that - on occasion - when dishes sit in the cabinet for some time they need washing before you can use them. Rather than wash them twice, this ingenious woman skipped the first washing altogether.

Before telling me the story, my friend asked me to let her know if what I was about to hear was at all odd. I'm guessing that my reaction after the story answered her question. I asked about bugs and mice and caked on food and bugs and mice again. I asked what "wiping off" meant. And then I grilled her about the overall hygiene of the house and this woman. Needless to say I was flabbergasted. I had met this woman in public before, and she was a true and proper Southern belle so this image of her with dirty dishes lurking in the cabinet just did not fit.

I still speak with this friend from time to time, and I keep meaning to ask her whether this tradition continues. But in keeping with the crazy that we no longer notice, I am a bit nervous that my friend has adopted the family way, and frankly, I'd rather not know about that.

January Snow Haiku

2011-01-27T07:46:00.002-10:00

Snowy twilight calm.

Tree boughs nearly touching down
to roots warm below.

Cardinal moment

2010-11-18T01:53:00.000-10:00

There's a still moment just before the sunrise each day where magical things happen. This morning, I was treated to a view into the waking routine of cardinals. In daylight hours, they can be so boisterous with their chipping and flashes of red, but this morning I almost missed three couples of cardinals ever-so-quietly pipping to each other as they foraged for food on the ground right near me. They were so demure and tranquil slowly working together in pairs to find seeds. I felt as though I was stealing a private, intimate moment between couples getting ready for the day.

Now, as I look outside, they are back to whirling around the yard, chasing off other birds from the feeder. But for a moment it was magical.

A Migration of Monarchs

2010-09-29T15:48:00.000-09:00

I got a lovely, and unexpected, call today from a high school friend. She and I have been living oddly parallel lives over the past few years and just reconnected at a recent reunion.

Today, when we spoke, we commented on how nice it is to have one other person in the world understand what we mean when we talk about non-native invasives and orders of plants and animals and great essays by Aldo Leopold. But best of all, my friend shares her nature photos from various travels. Recently, she went to Cape May to watch the Monarch butterfly migration. Look closely...those aren't flowers.

Thanks, Grace!

It'll Sneak Up on You

2010-07-30T03:09:00.000-09:00

I had tickets to see Aretha Franklin for about two months. A friend from work gave them to me, and I accepted, thinking it's important to see the greats when you can. I didn't give it more thought than that.

But when I sat down last night, and she came on stage as diva-esque as you would image the Queen of Soul to be, singing songs like Chain of Fools, Dr. Feelgood, If You Want My Lovin', and of course Respect, I choked up with emotions. I hadn't reckoned on that, but hearing these songs and that voice live, I was immediately transported back to New York City in the early 1990s when I was at Columbia.

At that time, I had a tape of her greatest hits, and I used to run down the Hudson River starting up at Grant's Tomb with that blaring in my Walkman. Last night's music instantly brought back those runs with the river gleaming next to me. I'd watch people tending the flower gardens along the path and kids playing in the fountains and wonder about the people living on the houseboats. This was my happy time between classes and interviews and wondering why I had gone to business school. I used these runs as an escape - from school, from boyfriends, and the city - and to clear my head. So many of Aretha's songs are about female power and sex, both of which I was still sorting out at that age. I knew every word of every song and agreed with every one.

We all grow up, though, and even Aretha had since those greatest hits songs. Last night she included a passage from La Boheme, some Hayden (played expertly on the piano by her as she sang to it) and songs more familiar to other greats. (Her rendition of Memories was a show-stopper, believe it or not, and I hate that song.)

Music has that power - the power to sneak up on you and smother you with emotions - and I forgot it. Thanks to Aretha for reminding me of that and of bringing back some of the sweetest memories I have of my time in New York.

Magnificent Frigatebirds

2010-07-01T04:42:00.000-09:00

The first time I recall seeing and really enjoying a Magnificent Frigatebird was in Virgin Gorda in the British Virgin Islands. I remember looking up and wondering what this sharply angled and incredibly acrobatic large bird was. Magnificent is a great modifier.

I've since seen them in lots of places, most recently at the Panama Canal doing a little dance over the massive container ships and sailboats passing through. They easily rank in my top five favorite birds.

Cornell Lab of Ornithology thinks so too and just put out a cool "video" showing these bad boys doing some mating rituals. Seeing their throat pouches all puffed up and hearing their calls makes me like them even more.

I'm a bird nerd and proud of it!

Oh Fireflies...

2010-06-29T12:11:00.000-09:00

As a budding naturalist, I volunteer as much as I can in the field but I also fall back on some other skills from time to time. Below is a press release I helped write for the Arlington Master Naturalist program that I just graduated from and Long Branch Nature Center about the upcoming Firefly Festival (July 11). Naturally, I'll be volunteering at the event too. Can't wait to see it and hope you can make it too!
FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE

Arlington’s Second Annual Firefly Festival Celebrates Summer’s Natural Night Lights, July 11, 7:30 – 9:30 p.m.Enjoy firefly-themed games, crafts, nature walks and a “catch-and-release” hunt
ARLINGTON, Virginia (June 29, 2010) – A favorite childhood memory: Looking across a darkened meadow or across a canopy of trees at night and seeing hundreds of tiny lights flashing, dipping and bobbing – fireflies signaling in the night. Relive these memories and share new ones with your family at Arlington’s second annual Firefly Festival on Sunday, July 11, from 7:30 – 9:30 p.m. at Fort C.F. Smith Park (2411 N. 24th Street, Arlington, VA 22207).

Sponsored by the Long Branch Nature Center as part of the Arlington County Department of Parks, Recreation and Cultural Resources, the Firefly Festival is an opportunity to “celebrate fireflies, spend time with family and friends in a great Arlington setting, and teach people more than they every thought possible about these amazing insects,” says Alonso Abugattas, Acting Director of Long Branch Nature Center. “We all know and love fireflies, or lightning bugs as some people call them, but how often do we really stop and enjoy the show they put on? Our Firefly Festival is a great way to spend time outside with family and friends, and have fun with fireflies.”
Last year’s event included more than 400 festival-goers. This year, attendees are encouraged to bring a picnic to the park and enjoy a wide range of events, including: firefly arts and crafts, bug bingo, flashlight games, storytelling with marshmallows around a campfire, and a glowing trail nature walk. Everyone is encouraged to take place in an old-fashioned firefly hunt (catch-and-release required). And all who attended will be treated to a light show from Arlington’s more than 20 firefly species across the park’s expansive field and tree line.

The festival also boasts a terrific learning opportunity for those wanting to understand more about fireflies. Naturalists will be on hand to explain how to attract fireflies to backyard habitats, and attendees will learn how to maintain their backyards to suit to these and other insects.

Fascinating Firefly Facts

• There are approximately 2,000 firefly species in the world and somewhere between 24 and 36 of those species live in the Washington, DC, area.
• Fireflies light up as part of the mating process, although not all fireflies glow. Those that do emit light are primarily males signaling to attract females, who may or may not accept the invitation.
• One local firefly species – the Femme Fatale or Photuris genus – is predatory. The female will send a false signal to a male of another species to attract him and will then eat him when he arrives to mate.
• Fireflies can glow at all states of development. Some firefly larva, found under rocks and logs, also glow and are sometimes referred to as glowworms.
• The light produced by a firefly is 98% efficient with little heat given off. Scientists are studying this phenomenon to learn how to recreate it in other lighting applications.

Firefly Festival admission is $5 per person or up to $20 per family, and tickets can be purchased at the event. Heavy rain will cancel the event.

Contact: Long Branch Nature Center at 703-228-6535 or visit http://www.arlingtonva.us/calendar/default.aspx#EventDetails_9772.

About the Event’s Sponsors: Long Branch Nature Center is the sponsor of the Firefly Festival and is part of The Arlington County Department of Parks, Recreation and Cultural Resources (PRCR), which promotes wellness and vitality through dynamic programs and attractive public spaces. PRCR’s vision is to ensure that Arlington is a happy and healthy place to live, learn, work and play.

Long Branch Nature Center: http://www.arlingtonva.us/departments/ParksRecreation/scripts/nature/ParksRecreationScriptsNatureLongbranch.aspx

Arlington County Department of Parks, Recreation and Culture Resources:

http://www.arlingtonva.us/departments/ParksRecreation/ParksRecreationMain.aspx

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Two Very Different Transactions

2010-06-26T10:34:00.000-09:00

I'm sure I've got more than one pet peeve, but the one that is striking me today has to do with checking out at the grocery store. Why do cashiers leave one item at the very front of the conveyor belt to block the belt from moving forward while they take multiple items from behind the blocking item? It just means that the belt won't move and I can't empty my cart in a nice leisurely pace. Instead, they leave that one stinkin' item forever and then, when they finally ring it up, the conveyor belt moves a few feet quickly and I'm left to scramble to take my stuff out of the basket to get checked out. Why is this? Is there a logical reason behind it? Can somebody tell me? Do they want to make their line look longer so people won't come in it? Are they sadists? Does the belt move too fast and food comes flying at them? It makes for a stressful checkout, I'll tell you.

On a far more positive note, I was at the bank today and overhead a good conversation. A woman making a deposit got to talking with her teller and mentioned all of the pain she has in her hips. The teller started to commiserate, but the woman quickly told her not to feel sorry for her. Instead she said, "I love life. And every day I wake up and feel the pain, I know I've got another day to enjoy life. So as long as there is pain, I'm a happy woman." Okay, that's a bit dramatic for a conversation with your bank teller, but still, a nice outlook on life.

My Work Here Is Done

2010-06-22T12:19:00.000-09:00

After how many posts, it is high time that this blog lives up to its name and I actually comment on the most wonderful of meats, bacon. Oh, bacon, how I love thee.

For those who don't know it, I went through a period in my life (about 20 years off and on) where I didn't eat most kinds of meat. The one meat exempted from this crazy abstinence fad was bacon. Why? Because bacon is a condiment, not a meat. Although, if you follow (and who doesn't) the best blog ever - Bacon Today - they will tell you, bacon is meat candy. I think I'm sold on this concept because candy is so much more fun than condiments.

And if you start following Bacon Today like you know you should, my work here is done. On this site, you will learn about bacon-scented candles, colored bacon, how a poll in Canada had that population pick bacon over sex, and so much more. You'll also read a touching (if not a bit odd) marriage proposal that involved bacon. If we're one thing, bacon people are true to our passions.

Not surprisingly, I am now hungry for bacon and I find myself in a crazy situation where there is none in the house. Must sign off now, and head to the store.

Mmm...bacon....

A Paradox

2010-06-10T11:31:00.000-09:00

The mimosa tree is perhaps one of the most noxious of non-native, invasive trees in Northern Virginia, yet it's also just gorgeous when it's in bloom. The flowers are delicate puffs of pink and the leaves look like miniature ferns, but the trees just take over in disturbed areas and knock out our lovely native plants.

Even still, this environmentalist can't help but enjoy the tree. Just wish I could see it in its native habitat and not here.

(photo at left: mimosa flowers on pavement)

A Bit Morbid, but That's Death for You

2010-06-07T05:46:00.000-09:00

It's 10:30 a.m. on Monday, June 7, 2010. My father died at 3:14 p.m. on Monday, February 4, 2008. I just returned home from George Washington Medical Center with his remains. What an odd sensation to be driving in the car with your father's bits and pieces. He's not there, but he is at the same time.

Why did it take so long to retrieve my father after he died? My dad donated his body to medical research, a rare and wonderful thing. To anyone who knew him, this came as no surprise. He was a researcher himself and so is my mother, who will also be donating her body to research. For those who support research, just be aware that getting closure might take some time because it takes ample time for doctors and researchers to do their work and have the medical students learn anatomy and all that good stuff. Even still, 2 years, 4 months, and 3 days seems a bit long, if you ask me.

The actual pick up was a bit surreal. It's a gorgeous day here in Washington and the campus was full of kids enjoying the sun and the end of school. I supposed the day would be darker, blustery even. But once I found the building, the woman who greeted me and escorted me to the anatomy department couldn't have been nicer. Sunshine personality all the way. The handoff itself was quite easy. She handed me a bag with a box in it, I signed a piece of paper, she gave me a photocopy and them she escorted me to the elevator and told me how to get out. Simple as pie.

What struck me as I waited for the elevator is how right on my dad's decision was. The hallways at the hospital - at least on this floor - were covered with notices for lectures, research findings, reports and general information about very interesting medical and scientific research. I couldn't help but say "Way to go, Dad," as I stood and waited.

One surprise along the way was how heavy the bag and box were. I had thought it would be lighter, having heard somewhere that our remains are mostly water and so what's really left when they're done is just a few pounds of dust and such. Out of curiousity, I weight the package - 8 pounds. Shocking, really. Now the bag and box are safely tucked in a closet until I can arrange for him to be interred at Arlington. I think the fall will be a nice time for that so hopefully that will work out.

And, if you believe in coincidences, when I arrived home, I did so at the same time as my neighbors - just home from the hospital with their four-day-old baby girl (Piper). New life and no life meeting in the driveway. How's that for the cycle of life?

Plastics

2010-06-07T04:07:00.000-09:00

My friend Nick and I have been talking a bit lately about why there seems to be such a preponderance of kids with ADHD, autism, Aspergers, pre-mature births, etc. Is it just that we are hearing about it more? Is it because we're in a relatively affluent part of the world with well-educated parents who get these things identified? I don't think that can be the whole story (Nick does).

I keep telling him it has to do with pesticides, those crazy little neurotoxins we so willingly spray all over our food. Mostly, I'm telling him this because he's got his first garden ever and is using pesticides to protect his tomatoes. Really? In a home garden? Isn't the point of growing your own to not have chemicals on them?

But I digress. Yes, there are good reasons to kill pests on food and it's what allows us to feed our ever-growing population and that of other countries. The only problem is that neurotoxins don't just stop working after it kills the bug on your tomato. It's in your food, and your nervous system is just as good a place to do it's job as a bug's.

Nick's not buying this argument. As he points out, we've had bad pesticides for generations and even worse ones if you go back to the 30s, 40s and 50s. So why just now are we seeing the effects on this generation so heavily? I keep telling him that once these bad boys get into your system, they are there working on you at the cellular and DNA level and that's the kind of thing that gets passed down through generations, mutating along the way. Again, Nick's not buying this argument, and insists it's because of hyper-sensitive parents. I'm not disagreeing fully, but I'm sticking with my side that we're overwhelmed with chemicals far more than prior generations and that could have something to do with it.

An interesting article in The New Yorker about the effect of plastics on us may be supporting my side (which I need in any argument with Nick). A multi-generational study being done at Columbia of mothers and children is starting to show the effects of exposure to plastics over time in a family line. And if you think pesticides are hard to wean off of, try going without plastic for a day. Besides your water bottle, it's in your cosmetics, shampoo, personal care products, wrapped around your food and on and on.

Now, there are other sides to the story and other research is getting different results, but just anecdotally don't you feel that you're hearing about more and stranger diseases showing up where once they were rare? Is Nick right, that it's only because parents are more vocal? Or maybe are we killing ourselves in the name of "progress"?

A Quarter Century of Coffee

2010-05-23T08:18:00.000-09:00

When I was 20 years old and living in Paris for a semester, I was quite proud of the fact that I had never had coffee. (Remember, this was 1984 and Starbucks hadn't swallowed the world whole yet.) At that time, I boasted that I would die before I had a cup and be able to put on my tombstone: "Here lies Joan. If only she'd had a cup of coffee."

But after months of sitting in Parisian cafes and ordering water, wine and tea, I broke down. I ordered a cafe au lait. I didn't actually drink the first few. Instead, I took advantage of the rectangular sugar cubes served in French cafes. Individually wrapped and quite large, these cubes made for a great conduit of the bitter coffee. I would dunk one cube after another into my cup and suck the cafe through the sugar. Sickeningly sweet, I enjoyed every last drop.

Now, looking back over the last 25 years, I can't imagine my life without coffee. The warmth of a hot cup on a cold winter's day to wake me up. Or the cool freshness from iced coffee when the weather starts to turn warm. My light and sweet in a bag on the way to work in New York. Becky's one-shot coffee maker - perfect each time. The secret naughtiness of a Dunkin' Donuts coffee. Dad's awful percolator coffee, complete with grounds. My first taste of Kona, and finding a cheap stash of Kona in Omaha of all places.

After many serious and not-so-serious conversations later over a cup of Joe with friends, I really just can't conceive how different my life would have been if I'd kept to that 20-year-old's ideal of the java-free life.

La Fogata

2010-05-23T08:01:00.000-09:00

Throughout my adult life, I have often wondered why some memories of my travels stay with me and others vanish quickly. For instance, I can tell you exactly what was on the radio (Sixth Avenue Heartache) and how the sky and rocks looked when I was stopped at an intersection in the middle of nowhere Oregon on my way to see Crater Lake. Or feel the hot sun on my back and dry air in my face as I climbed the thousand steps to my hostel in Finale Ligure. And I can still see the old factories and quiet surface of Lake Erie as I went for a quiet run along the shoreline in Lorraine, Ohio, on a long-ago business trip.

Why do these things stick with me and not the names of the masters of fine art or the great architecture and historic monuments I've seen? Why do these little snippets of seeming nothingness flicker through my head from time to time like a favorite, old silent movie?

Another place that brings back fond memories is La Fogata restaurant. I remember vividly walking into this little oasis in the middle of an offbeat neighborhood in San Antonio. I can still hear the Mexican music and see the vine-covered trellises and white wrought iron tables on that cool Texas night. I remember lots of laughter and being happily full of rice, beans and margaritas when I walked out.

What brought me here? I was about one month into a new job. Even though I didn't really know the new team that well, I had a good feeling when they said we were going to go to San Antonio a few days ahead of a major conference to prepare for the event, buy cowboy boots and visit a friend of the team, Pat. On our first day there, Pat chauffeured us around town in great style looking for appropriate western wear. A native of San Antonio, Pat knows everybody in town and if there's a great place to be, he'll take you there. He took us to La Fogata for dinner after a long day of work and shopping. That day and night have stuck in my memory ever since because I realized that day that I not only taken the right step with my career, but I was also going to make some great friends in the process.

Since that time, I've gotten to know Pat much better and now I consider him a friend as well. He's funny, generous and a true southern gentleman. He's a good golfer and even better business man, although he's not perfect - he is a Republican and a Cowboys fan, after all. So we agree to disagree - violently at times - on certain things. Even still, he's fun to talk with and I really admire his passion for life and for his family and friends.

So when another friend and colleague, Sam, recently said that I should come to San Antonio for another work project (and to celebrate his birthday), I jumped at the chance because I knew it would be a great time and we could see Pat. Little did I know that Pat would take us back to La Fogata for dinner for Sam's birthday. But that's exactly where I found myself this past Wednesday night. Sitting at a table with Pat, Sam, Sam's brother and another friend, drinking margaritas, eating amazing guacamole made right at the table, and laughing - a lot.

On this second visit to La Fogata, I was struck with just how accurate my original memories about the place had been. When we drove down the street approaching the restaurant, I knew we were close because I saw the run-down bodega we had stopped at the last time to buy lottery tickets. Then, when we turned onto the street and saw La Fogata with its busy outdoor dining garden, all of my other memories came right back. I couldn't have been happier - only wished the whole original team could have been there too. Not that I needed to worry, but now I know La Fogata is permanently etched into my mental movie reel.

The Kindness of Friends and Strangers

2010-05-21T11:59:00.000-09:00

Today is one of those bright, beautiful shining days, whose details you may not long remember but whose gist adds up to make life a good thing.

This morning, Shadow I walked over to Phil's house and visited with Jean, her daughter Sarah, and their puppy Toby. Shadow and Toby played hard for about an hour and then collapsed in a heap of drool and panting. Sarah told me all about her visit with Mickey (and Donald the Duck) and smiled and was her adorable two-year-old self. And Jean and I had one of our usual good chats about wine and boys and nothing. Tim happened along during the middle of the visit and we got to enjoy his company for a few minutes.

Shadow and I then returned home and welcomed Lisa for her first visit to the house. We managed to do a few hours of honest work. It was so nice to visit with her and have someone who is so important to me spend time in my home.

I just returned from a lovely, long walk with Shadow - his favorite route. Just as we neared home, my neighbor said hello (I don't know his name, but call him Miso's dad after his dog's name). He asked if I do any vegetable gardening, which I do, and he proceeded to give me a flat of gorgeous tomatoes. Stripeys and Romas and a few other varieties I had never heard of. This should be a great growing season! And what a generous act from someone I barely know. Life is good.

Mellow Yellow

2010-05-17T13:30:00.000-09:00

This past weekend was anything but mellow, and everything about fun. Michael and Katherine (also known as Mikey and Kat) got hitched at Wye River on a beautiful golden afternoon surrounded by great family and fun friends. I was so happy to have been invited and to share in their day.

The whole weekend was spent outside. We sat out on the back porch having drinks, enjoyed the reception on a huge deck above the river, had a fun hash with a beer check by the river, and ate crabs and shrimp out on the Bay. There were many bird sightings along the way, including multiple osprey nests and osprey in action.

Then there was the wedding itself - intimate and sweet. There were many touching notes, from the minister who spoke personally to the couple to a lovely reading by Abigail Adams read by my friend Melissa. A very moving moment for me was when Kat's dad gave her away. When asked who was giving Katherine to be married, her father said, "Her father does ... with great pride."

Everywhere you looked there were touches of the couple. Photos from their childhood lined the path to the reception and instead of traditional table numbers, they used bib numbers from their past races. The accent color throughout was yellow - bright and cheery, hopeful. Here's what I brought home from the wedding to remind me of the great time and the great couple.

Thanks, Kat and Mikey for a bright, beautiful, wonderful time, and many, many years of happiness to both of you.

Up Close

2010-05-09T07:29:00.001-09:00

One of the things that I've decided to do more of during this career change process is take pictures. As I went about purchasing a new camera, I did some thinking about what I would use it for. I bought my new camera, a Nikon D5000, thinking that I would be taking more long-distance, nature photography given my apparent career direction. After all, as a naturalist and a birder, it's not often that a choice sighting will sit still for a close-up portrait. So I thought about long lenses and fast shutter speed, a light camera, and no tripod. I only started to realize when I began really taking pictures that what I love in nature is the close and the intimate.

Much of my photography of late has been portraits of extremely small objects that I set against different backgrounds. I've been interested in how light affects composition (obvious for a photographer, but please forgive me for being obvious since I'm new to this game) and how color and texture can set an object apart.

Anyhoo, enough of this artsy gobbeldy goo. Here are some recent photos that I've liked of spring images (believe it not, that leaf just fell last week), with a snow photo in there to remind us why we deserve the great weather we've been having.

That is not to say I didn't get some great photos of monkeys playing in the trees above my head in Panama. But that is for another day.

Why I Love Washington

2010-05-09T06:51:00.002-09:00

On any given day in Washington, you're bound to meet people with great stories, which to me is what makes life worth living. Better yet, because DC is DC, you'll meet people who tell stories about politics - intrigue, behind the scenes details not found in the Post or online, and tidbits you'll tuck away for later retelling at your next cocktail party. This past Friday night, I was reminded why I love being out and about in Washington and why I love touching elbows with these movers and shakers.

I was fortunate that my friends Jess and Doug invited me to join them and their family for dinner and to see Hamlet at the Folger Library. Jess's father, Ken, is one of DC's political elite, but more relevant to this evening, he is passionate about Shakespeare and particularly passionate about Hamlet. Jess's mother, Carol, is also a Shakespeare lover and also a DC power broker.

We started the evening out at Bistro Cacao on the Hill, where we dined outside and all enjoyed great French food (particularly the filet mignon and venison). At the table with us was Frank Gannon, a long-time friend of Ken and Carol, who worked in the Nixon White House and had many stories to tell. I quickly learned about Frank's Nixon connection because Doug and Jess had dressed their daughter in a onesy with a photo of Nixon and the tag line WWND: What Would Nixon Do? across the front of it. Many pictures were taken of Frank and the baby.

Frank was quickly asked to tell one of his Nixon stories, which started with some basic background details. As a young White House staffer with a writer's temperament, Frank admitted he could not get himself into the office before 11 a.m. most mornings, something rather unheard of in the Nixon administration. While he did sleep late most mornings, Frank noted that he was religious about having his alarm go off at 10 a.m., which to his young mind was a sign of honor and great commitment to the job.

One morning, Frank was awakened just before his alarm to find the White House operator asking him to hold for the President. As he said, he was somewhere in between levels two and three of R.E.M. sleep at the time and not particularly ready to speak with the Commander of the Free World. As Frank was coming to, he heard Nixon's voice over the phone just as his clock radio alarm turned on blasting the Beetles' Strawberry Fields Forever. Here he is, flat on his back with a line to the President on one side and the embodiment of the counter culture Nixon so despised in the background. Frank said it was all he could do to focus on answering the President's questions while trying to shut off the radio across the room. (Why was Nixon calling? To clarify a quote from Churchill. Frank had written much on Churchill, and as this was before the Internet, the President just called Frank for the answer.)

My question to Frank was whether or not he thought Nixon would have known or cared where he was at that time. He said that Nixon would have assumed he was at his office at work at that hour - without doubt or question that is what he expected of his staff. And then Jess clarified. She noted that Nixon wouldn't have cared where Frank was or even taken note of it. As the President, all you know - or all you need to know - is that when you call someone or need an answer, they will always take your call and always have the answer you want. Living is easy with eyes closed, indeed!

The rest of the evening was a hit as well. Hamlet was very well acted, especially the actors who played Hamlet and Polonius. I was particularly interested in the set and costumes, both of which were modern in feel although didn't necessarily correspond to the tone of this particular Hamlet. The set - stark, all white, angled - I took to be a modernist Danish look, white the better to show off the acting. Doug went deeper than I did and saw it as a symbol that everyone in the court but Hamlet had moved on, further highlighting his isolation. Either way, its best effect was through the use of light and shadow, especially during the to be or not to be soliloquy and during the play within a play (Murder of Gonzago), which was done using a light and shadow show across the faces of the cast and across the white-walled backdrop.

If the "soul of a man is his clothes," then the costumes in this production should have been re-thought. They were very disappointing and I didn't understand their connection to the play. My take on the costumes could have had much to do with our seats in the front row or it may have had something to do with my ability to get lost in a detail and lose sight of the bigger picture. Either way, while Hamlet's and Gertrude's outfits were spot on - he in black and gray, fitted clothing, she in stunning, queenly outfits, all with glitter or jewels - the rest of the cast's outfits were just a bit off. The clothes themselves were very poorly cut and not well maintained - too large in places, holes in others, shoes unpolished. This was particularly striking in the uniforms worn by Claudius and King Hamlet. Uniforms are meant to fit properly, and the effect of them hanging loosely and ill-formed was off-putting to me, especially given the modernity of the set and the other actors' clothing. I did like that all of the male actors (save Horatio) were fully bearded; that was a nice unifying touch.

And here I am again, lost in the detail and missing the big picture, which this night was enjoying the company of some very interesting people who told great stories with zeal and shared their passion for one of the world's great plays. Thank you, Washington!

Super Bowl 44

2010-02-07T17:19:00.000-10:00

One of my favorite traditions or customs with my dad was our bets. We used to bet over the meaning of weird words. We would bet over who could grow more tomatoes. We would bet over what an article said or what date something really happened. But most often, we bet over sports. Redskins games, Caps games, World Series, you name it. The amount was always the same. A quarter. The winner got bragging rights, and the loser got to put the quarter in the cup. After a few months of betting, we would take the proceeds and donate it to charity.

Why does this have anything to do with Super Bowl 44 when my dad died on Monday, February 4, 2008 and that was the day after Super Bowl 42?

My dad had been home for nearly a month from the nursing home when he died. Before that, he had had some very bad nights and some very good days. He wasn't eating much but his spirits were great. The Friday before he died, he even had his coffee bunch over. The Geezers is what he called them. This was a group of older gentlemen that he knew from the Patent Office, who would go to McDonald's every Friday for coffee and to talk. They shared articles and stories and discussed patents and life and women and who knows what else. They told plenty of bad jokes, and I'm sure they had some bets going too.

When Dad moved back to his house after the hospital and the nursing home, he had 24-7 care. Not nursing care, but CNAs (certified nursing assistants) who would cook, clean, keep his oxygen on him when he slept, and so much more. Because the nights were so difficult for his breathing, I slept at his house every night. I slept in the living room on an air mattress so I could be close to his room and hear if there was trouble. The dog slept with me in the bed. I could hear when he became agitated and tried to take his oxygen mask off. I could hear when the CNA had fallen asleep and things were getting rough. I could hear when he just was talking in his sleep. That's why I was there. To help him in whatever way I could.

In the month between when he came home from the nursing home and his last night alive, I had one night off. Most nights I slept about 2 - 3 hours and was still working full time. I was pretty ragged at this point, and my father and mother insisted on Sunday afternoon that I go to my friends Caroline and Oscar's house to watch the Super Bowl. Mom and Dad had been trying to get me to take a night off for some time. My mom was able to spend the night that night, and so I finally agreed just to see my friends and get some sleep.

My mom is from New York. She took the Giants in the Super Bowl that night. My dad loves Payton Manning and is a mid-westerner. He took the Colts. Of course, they bet on the game. The Giants won. Mom won the bet. By the next morning, Dad had slipped into a coma-like state, and he died that afternoon. To this day, Mom reminds me that Dad died owing her 25 cents.

What does this have to do with Super Bowl 44? I'm getting there. For the first anniversary of Dad's death, I didn't quite know what to do. There isn't yet a gravestone because he donated his body to medical research so I couldn't go visit him. There wasn't much family in town so I couldn't spend time with them. So I went to his house to watch the Super Bowl. He had laid a fire in the fireplace before he died, and I lit it. I sat in front of one of the nicest, warmest fires and watched the game with the dog. It was perfect.

This year, we had an historic blizzard. 30 inches at his house. His house didn't have power until 8 p.m. tonight so I had to watch the game at my house. Again, Payton Manning was the QB. I knew Dad would want to take them, and that's fine, because I'm a sucker for a good story and I took the Saints. And wouldn't you know it, the Saints just won.

Dad, that's another quarter you owe.

Love you.

Witch Hazel

2009-11-15T15:47:00.000-10:00

I love these delicate flowers. And love that they bloom in the fall.

End of the Season

2009-11-15T15:04:00.000-10:00

Every year I get a little sad around this time. Just for a day or so. Now is the time to say goodbye to my tomato and pepper plants. The collards, I hope, will over-winter, but the others never make it. Good producers all of them, but more importantly, faithrul companions whom I visited every day for more than a season. There they were - growing, waving in the breeze, tirelessly giving their all.

I try to wait until the first frost takes them before I pull them up. This year, some hung around until mid-November and I've even got one plant in Arlington with tomatoes still on it. We've had such a warm fall.

Today, I put a big pile of leaves on my garden at Dad's house and said goodbye to all of them. And wished Dad were there to visit with. Looking at his benches and just wishing he was there, sitting with his ball cap on and of course his Michigan or Ohio State sweatshirt and windbreaker, even on a 70-degree day. These are the times I miss him most.

A Friday Haiku

2009-11-13T04:53:00.000-10:00

Red, green and brown trees
Greet me on the drive to work,
Only one more day.

Hodge Podge Lodge

2009-11-12T17:21:00.004-10:00

That used to be one of my favorite shows as a kid. I couldn't tell you what it was about any more, but the name has stuck with me all of these years. And I'm thinking of it now because I live in a hodge podge lodge right now. No, my house isn't messy, but my life sure is. Which is why I am loving sitting quietly on the couch right now with a sleeping cat to my right and a very tired, sleeping dog at my feet.

The dog is particularly tired and had a rough day. He woke up at 5 a.m. throwing up part of the garbage he ate two days ago. And given that some of the items were questionable, we found ourselves at the vet for emergency x-rays and some barium. The poor doggie stayed there all day. I say poor, but I think he secretly liked having a harem of people around all day. The vet said he was really good and didn't fuss the whole day. If only I'd known all this time that for $600 a day, I could have a calm and happy Shadow.

The cat on the other hand did not have such a restful day. We've had big winds and rains and very cool temps for the last two days. So much so that he didn't want to leave the house last night when I went to dinner and he barely left this morning when we left for the vet. Not much of an outdoor cat, but I don't blame him. He's twitching now. Probably chasing a mouse. (The photo was from a few weeks ago when it was a wee bit warmer out.)

Me? Well, I'm exhausted and would have traded places with either of them today. That's just how much fun work is these days. I'm focused on the future, though. Eye on the prize. And now, it's eyes closed. Up tomorrow morning again at 5 a.m. This time it will be planned, though.

Que sera, sera

2009-10-24T10:42:00.002-09:00

As I was walking through Karlsplatz today, I heard someone playing Que sera, sera on an accordion. It was dusk. I was flanked on one side by an enormous, baroque church, in front by a modern sculpture placed off center within a pond/fountain area, to my right by a row of distinctly European benches and a neat alley of sycamores, and behind me the Wien Museum. And I thought to myself, yes, que sera, sera. How I arrived here, how this is not ordinary, how happy I am, and how at home I feel - que sera, sera. The future's not ours to see... I'm thinking that might be my new theme song. (I should say that hearing the music did strike me as a bit odd at first since the far off accodion sound is really something more fitting to Paris, but I went with it anyway.)

But on to more serious things. What a day! I slept for 13 hours last night. That was a sleep in the making. I had been up for 36 hours (short sleep the night before I left, little sleep on the plane, hit the ground running when I got here). It was a glorious sleep, full of odd dreams and mini-wake-ups with myself saying, "It's only 6 a.m., go back to sleep." Several of the dreams involved me being half-naked, wrapped in a towel in work situations. It seemed I was late getting there and just came as I was. I can't decide if I'm feeling vulnerable at work, rushed through life, or just plain sexy. Probably some of all of the above.

Anyway, I didn't leave the hotel until 2 p.m. I walked down Parkring and straight to the Belvedere. I wandered through the gardens and spent a good amount of time in the Upper Belvedere Museum. There are some rooms there that are at least three storeys high with marble decorations going floor to ceiling; gilded everything; frescoes everywhere; and bas relief like it's going out of style. Some of the rooms have been preserved with the frescoes like they were when the aristocrats lived there, and you can just feel the sense of entitlement when you walk into these rooms. Amazing.

And then there's the art. They have several rooms dedicated to Klimt, with works like the Kiss and Judith I. Having seen so many reproductions of these works, it's nice to see them finally in person. They are truly stunning and stand the test of time. Especially worth seeing the detail he put into his work and his mastery of working with gold leaf and other non-traditional materials. I also just enjoyed walking a museum, which I haven't done in a while, and seeing artists that we don't normally see at home.

After this, I wandered down to the Wien Museum. This museum was staffed by a group who were not the friendliest people in the world. When you hear the announcement that the museum is closing in 15 minutes, they really mean leave now. However, the museum does give you a great sense of the history of Vienna through religious objects, maps, clothes, materials, art and military objects. Yet it is very much geared to a German-speaking audience, which, if you think about it, seems odd. Wouldn't you want others outside of your country to understand the position your city and country had in the world? I'm going to make a note of that the next time I visit an American museum or iconic place.

After that, I sat in Karlsplatz and listened to the 6 p.m. bells toll outside the church. It is truly lovely. I then wandered around the Ring for a bit. What struck me was how Vienna truly lights up at night. Very much like Paris that way - you can really take in how impressive the buildings are with all of their detail.

I ended the day at a lovely cafe (the Moritz) with a friendly waiter, who took great care of me. He served a wonderful Viennese Chardonnay and I had fried calamari. Not the kind we usually get at home, but really good non-breaded calamari grilled a light garlic/basil. It came with nice veggies and some of the best small cooked potatoes I've had in a long time.

Now I'm ready for another long nap. And best of all, it's daylight savings time tonight so I get an extra hour! (Or as the Viennese say, we're changing to wintertime.) Whatever will be will be!

Wien

2009-10-23T08:23:00.004-09:00

I arrived in Vienna this morning at around 10 and by 11 a.m. was safely at the Marriott, having taken a nice, warm shower. My first interaction with Austrian culture was when the Austrian Airlines flight landed and the canned music came on. It was Strauss, naturally, with the Viennese Waltz. Within moments of the music starting, about four people on this very small plane were whistling along and smiling at one another.

One of my friends put me in touch with a college friend of his and we had lunch today - Cuban fusion. Not what I had expected, but amazingly delicious. She then showed me the part of the wall that used to surround Vienna and pointed me toward some of the more famous areas and went back to work. (Very nice of her to take time out from work and we're going to be having drinks shortly.)

Anyway, I wandered around the Stephansdom Quarter and climbed up to the top of the spire of Stephansdom Cathedral. Just to give you a sense of the height, I've added some pictures. (I'm going to have a big dinner tonight!) The Cathedral is famous for many things, one of which is the roof. It was destroyed in WWII, but put back together, needless to say.

I then strolled over to Peterskirche (mostly because it's hard to miss). When I walked in, there was an organ concert going on and only a few people there. It was so amazing because the church isn't that large - very tall, but not deep or wide - and the music was so strong it just went through me. Plus, I smell like candles now, which is a cool thing. These pictures don't do the place justice, but give a feel for the opulence.

One of the highlights of the day was the fact that a few people started talking to me in French. One woman at the top of the Stephansdom spire just started rattling off how she didn't want to walk back down and she was going to stay right there forever, but weren't the views wonderful. Made me feel good that I appeared French. Not to mention that a Japanese tourist (speaking German) and someone else (speaking German) stopped me for directions. I must look like I know where I'm going.

Good first day.

Happy Dog

2009-10-20T03:52:00.002-09:00

Shadow and I went to the beach a few weeks back. When he hit the beach for the first time, he didn't know what to make of it. He jumped and spun in circles like a mad dog, ate sand, drank salt water and threw up a bit later. But man, did that dog love the beach! He played with other dogs and also just liked hanging out.

This shot is my favorite. We were at a state park beach and had the whole place for miles to ourselves. I sat down near the dunes just to chill out and Shadow curled up next to me and just watched the waves.

Now that's a good day.

Bad Behavior? Here's Your Prize

2009-09-18T15:51:00.003-09:00

This week, I had coffee with a friend of mine and we got to talking about politics, as we tend to do. We were talking about the President's remarks to Congress and Joe Wilson's "you lie" comment. I mentioned to her that Fox News hadn't covered the remarks; instead it aired a show called Glee.

Our nation is debating one of the most important issues of a generation, and a major news network decides not to cover it. Unfair and unbalanced, they are after all.

Why do things like that surprise me still? But more importantly, why is Fox News allowed to get away with their continued lies and manipulation on all things political? Leaving their reporting aside, have we devolved as a nation so much that a supposedly reputable organization can print an ad that is an out and out lie and have no consequences? Does anyone in this country still believe in the idea that actions have consequences?

Clearly not if Joe Wilson can raise the kind of money he has since his outburst; Serena Williams is interviewed on the Today Show to explain her feelings; and Kanye West goes on the Jay Leno Show to pour his heart out.

Why do we continue to reward bad behavior? Are we so starved for entertainment in our own lives that this is all we have? I'd truly like to know.

Rhizomes

2007-09-10T10:47:00.000-09:00

Last week, while on vacation at the beach I decided to meditate. It was a great session of quiet and waves and kids laughing and sunshine all around. In this happy place, I started to think about a friend who lay dying in a hospital in Washington from pancreatic cancer. A warm, kind, dear man.

I thought of him then because my strongest memory of him is at this particular beach, sitting on his back porch having wine and talking. He and his wife were very excited to tell us about a role their son had just landed on an HBO drama. Their son played a gay man on the show and acted out a sex act. His father couldn't have been prouder of this moment in his son's career. Just a sweet, wonderful father.

From here, I got to thinking about the cancer that is killing him and how much I hate what cancer does to people's bodies, lives and families.

Then the rhizomes came in. (A rhizome is a single, connected plant system that sends out roots and shoots from its nodes. Good plants that send out underground rhizomes are ginger and turmeric, but some of the baddies are Bermuda grass and bamboo.)

Cancer is a rhizome. Growing under the surface and sending up shoots now and then to show us its evil little head. I hate cancer just as much as I hate the bamboo growing in my backyard. At first, I took to clipping my bamboo. The lady gardener approach. But it kept coming back. So then dug it out. Still, back it came. I moved to systemic herbicides - deadly plant chemo. I did fairly well for a while, but the system of bamboo is so big the chemo didn't get everywhere to kill the cancer and the plant came back.

Now, I'm just Rambo. After a good rain when the ground is soft, I take my ax and hack away at it, ripping up roots and stalks and sweating and cussing the whole time. I may be winning, but I won't know until the last little stalk of bamboo dies.

I wish I could be Rambo for my dying friend. But his rhizome is going to kill him and there's nothing to be done.

20 Miles

2007-08-27T14:09:00.001-09:00

Doesn't sound like that long, does it? 20 little miles. A relatively short drive, if you're in a car. Not a tough bike ride. But did I use any of those modes of transportation?

No, I did it on foot. Why? Because I'm training for a marathon, silly. And the day I picked to do it was 90% humidity. Fortunately, it was only 73 degrees when I started out at 6 a.m. But even still, I could paint a lovely picture of sweat-filled sneakers (or in my case, they should have been called squeekers because you could hear me coming with my wet shoes and socks - eeewwww!).

The long run is over and now it's all tapering. Woohoo! Of course, a hard-core person I know told me I'm tapering too early and so I should do another 20. Whatever Wal-Mart worker. She can do it and tell me about it. But don't think that seed of negativity isn't planted in my head.

So now I'm going home to walk Dad's dog. That is who is gracing this blog. He's so darn cute, but so darn crazy. Love that mutt.

Free Stuff

2007-08-23T09:40:00.000-09:00

If there's one thing in life that I love, it's free stuff. My love of free stuff started in college, when I learned how to survive on no money and free food at receptions. This love blossomed when I graduated and the law firm I worked at fed us free lunch (in retrospect, not so free) and had a happy hour on Friday nights that supplied me with enough food for the weekend. Don't get me started on the free stuff afforded me by grad school. (Although my dad was quick to point out that my 'free' ride around Manhattan on the Circle Line my first week of grad school was actually costing about $25,000 a year.) And then investment banking with all of its perks and other assorted jobs... ahh.... But the pinnacle was when I lived in New Zealand as a tourist and while living amongst the kindest people in the world who all had jobs in tourism, I was able to swim with the dolphins and sail and eat and drink for free while spending time with my friends while they worked. How cool is that?

Well, the free stuff movement has taken a new and different turn. What with freecycle.org, and now people who call themselves 'fregans.' I am not willing to go to the lengths of Fregangirl, but it's an interesting concept to see how you can make a small dent in our gluttonous, capitalistic, acquisitive world one small step at a time.

And for my part, I did finally put together my compost bin at my (not-so-new-anymore) house. In no time, I will have free dirt!!! Good stuff.

It's about time!

2007-08-21T06:09:00.000-09:00

Apparently, I've forgotten how to type or blog or think or record a thought or whatever it takes to get me to post to this thing. Not like life is standing still and I have nothing to report. Since last we met, I've been to Virgin Gorda, Fayetteville, San Antonio, the Catskills, Maine, and Chicago.

And speaking of Chicago, for my birthday (which is now more than a month ago) I went to my first Cubs game at Wrigley! Right now, the Cubs are tied for first place with the Brewers...but the day I saw them, they beat the Brewers in a dramatic come-from-behind-bottom-of-the-9th win. Go CUBS!!!

Anyhoo, lots of other people have been posting such cool stuff to their sites that I thought I'd at least get a post out here to remind myself how to do it.

Really, that's all I have to say.

Cold as a ...

2007-02-06T07:42:00.000-10:00

Well, you know how cold things can get. Let's just say that when I give the outdoor cat water now, it has to be scalding or it's frozen before he can get to it. And speaking of the outdoor cat, I'm renaming him again, I think. Now the name is Deco. As in Art Deco because his coloring is exactly symmetrical all over his body - black spots on both knees, small white patches on each flank, etc. He's a perfect little deco cat. And it sounds better than the other two names.

So how cold is it? It was -12 with the windchill this morning. I consider that cold. My glasses froze to my face when I walked into the building this morning. I went birding on the C&O Canal this weekend and even the birds were in short supply. Not really. We saw 27 species. My favorite was a Common Merganser. Very cool looking ducks and we did see the male and female (male has the green head, female the red head). Plus, we saw some Black Vultures, a Winter Wren, and some other cool stuff. I walked the next day down another trail I like because someone told me they'd seen a Barred Owl, but I didn't see it. Found the tree it's been spotted in, but no luck with the owl.

And here's the bacon highlight of the week: figs stuffed with blue cheese wrapped in bacon. Yummy! I had them at the Super Bowl party I went to and they were worth the trip. As were the yummy, homemade Buffalo wings. Delicious evening.

Now, I've got to finish work because in three days and less than four hours (who's counting?) I start a new job. Can't wait!

Long time, no blog

2007-01-25T15:12:00.000-10:00

It's been ages since the last post. So much to cover like my new outdoor cat, Nittymaki (named after a Flyers goalie), my need for a new roof, a new job and so much more. The real reason I got back to the blog is because I saw that Bill Marriott - yes the guy with his name on so many buildings - just started a blog. If he's got time to post, so do I. The best part is he talks about taking pilates in his last blog. Go, Bill!

Anyway, it's really late and I'm still at work, but wanted to get back in the habit. So that's it for now.

The Guilt Made Me Do It

2006-08-09T11:24:00.000-09:00

Well, a good pal of mine last night asked when I thought I'd get around to updating ye olde blog. Good point, D!

It's been a while because I've been on the road. 3,000 miles on the road, to be exact. My ports of call in the last two weeks have included Virginia, DC, Maryland, Pennsylvania, Delaware, New Jersey, New York, Ohio, Indiana, Illinois and Wisconsin. Yep, when gas is sky-high, I've been pursuing the great American passtime of summer driving trips. I will tell you that the cheapest gas is in Indiana (on the East Coast it's New Jersey) and the most expensive is New York and near Chicago.

There's so much to tell from the trips that it's mindblowing and I really should just upload the pictures. (Tonight, she thought, with great hope but little confidence she would actually do it.) Some highlights:

a double rainbow in Savanna, Illinois
a million and one Harley-Davidson outlets - those guys have the Mid-West blanketed
camels in Indiana
gorgeous cloud formations in upstate NY
delicious brats in Wisconsin
enormous sand dunes in northern Indiana
the National Inventors Hall of Fame in Akron, Ohio
pulled pork in Fort Wayne, Indiana
a family cemetary cut out of a corn field in Kent, Illinois
good friends and family all over the place

In the coming weeks, I'll be headed to Toronto and the beach in Delaware and possibly California. Lots of traveling for this little home-loving girl. It's good for me and I'm loving it, but the kitty cat is sad, my tomatoes are going uneaten and the house isn't exactly clean. But it makes for good stories and if there's one thing I believe, life is about gathering good stories.

Sailing Along

2006-07-01T04:39:00.000-09:00

It's been a busy few days, but before I forget, congrats to Alex Ovechkin for being the new cover boy for EA Sports for NHL 2007. For being on an unknown team, the kid's doing pretty well. Calder Trophy first and now this. I even had a dream about him last night that he won some ESPN award for best hockey shot. I know, I know...I'm dreaming about hockey and it's July. Whatev. I love Alex the Great!

Now back to the busy-ness. Yesterday was pretty great because I spent it in Annapolis having lunch and then going for a sail, all courtesy of work. Very nice day to be out. 85 and sunny after a week of the torrential downpouring. Plus being out of the office is never bad, even when you have to be out of the office with office people. You know? Last night was a 2-year-old's birthday party, which is right about my speed this weekend. Not to mention ice cream cake.

Cheap Eats on Wednesday was super. Austrian/Italian - lots of past and weinerschnitzel at Cafe Tirolo. It's only open week days and there's no place to sit inside. 17 people showed up, which I think is a record for a Cheap Eats dinner. Good thing they had so many outside tables. I had a tomato and goat cheese salad that was very good. Not very Austrian or Italian, but good. Today, I'm going to be taking it easy. Maybe heading out for some shopping and a mani/pedi. We'll see what the day brings. A friend is bringing over furniture so I'm looking forward to that good stuff.

Last night I saw my first opossum at this house. Those things are creepy but it's fun to watch them run. Big, fat and waddly with beady eyes and a rat tail trying to move fast - very amusing.

Off for a walk of the neighborhood before it gets to be a million degrees. I hate when that happens.

End of an Era

2006-06-28T05:46:00.000-09:00

Well, last night was Melyssa's last night on the Clueless in Clarendon trivia juggernaut. Sad for us, but good for her for taking a big life step and moving away. And in true C-i-C style, we won in her honor last night. Go team! Needless to say, we're going to miss next week because it's the Fourth of July. I guess one night off from trivia after many months of trivia isn't a bad thing.

Yesterday, my friend Denyse and I were talking about Night Shift, one of the funniest movies ever. I mentioned it to Dani at trivia last night, and she sent me a link to the best quotes on IMDB. The one where Michael Keaton defines prostitution to a roomful of pros has to be one of my favorite movie scenes ever.

The sun did come out, for those who care about such things. Doesn't mean I'm not still tired to my bones. Too much running around and not enough sleeping. Tomorrow night...I keep telling myself that tomorrow I'll get some sleep. People at work are starting to wonder what I really am doing at night. One woman even gave me an article about the ill effects of sleep deprivation. Yikes.

But now, in the middle of the work day, is not the time to be thinking of sleep. My skim latte will get me through the next few hours. And then only one more real work day this week - yeeehaaa!

Here Comes the Rain Again

2006-06-27T07:30:00.000-09:00

It's been raining for days, not that anyone could miss it. I like it. It gives me extra excuses to drink coffee, which I do adore.

I've had houseguests for about a week now, but they don't stink like fish. They could almost be excused for stinking like fish, though, because many of their possessions were washed away in a three-foot basement flood over the weekend. Very sad for my friend Becky who lost a lot of family things that can't be replaced. I lucked out and only had a little leak in the attic that I fixed for the time being with some plastic sheeting and turkey roasting pans. Even though there's no duct tape involved, I am my father's daughter.

The big bad thing that happened for me was that my tulip tree was hit by lightning. There's a three-inch wide scar down it where the bark exploded off of it. The bark went at least 40 feet in little projectile pieces. Poor tree. I did give it a hug while I had my coffee yesterday morning. Mookie the cat, who normally could care less about changes in the weather, was pretty freaked out after the strike. I wasn't there when it happened so I can only imagine her reaction when it hit.

Did I mention it's raining?