I had never seen this before, and that's coming from someone
who went to many a Beatlefest in the late 70's and early 80's.
All the lads are at their best here. Some great behind-the-scenes
studio romping, and they all look super cool. What a band!
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Sunday, November 18, 2007
How to Save a Life
I love this song by the Fray, "How to Save a Life". I just saw the
video for the first (and then immediately the second, third, fourth
and fifth times) on YouTube. The video adds truth to the song's
inherent power:
The song seems ironic to me. Many of the instructions to the
listener in the lyric itself seemed doomed to failure, like:
"Let him know that you know best
Cause after all you do know best
Try to slip past his defense
Without granting innocence
Lay down a list of what is wrong
The things you've told him all along
And pray to God he hears you
And pray to God he hears you"
However, the written list of considerations in the video
seems more on the mark. Listen. Let it go. Have faith. Love.
Remember. Forgive. Open up. And so on.
I guess the narrator of the story realizes that he didn't know
what to do when it mattered the most. So he demanded this
person's attention, made lists of what was wrong, assumed he
knew best and prayed the other person would see the light.
Apparently it didn't work out. Really, he just needed to be there
as a supportive listener and friend. "And I would have stayed up
with you all night, had I known how to save a life."
When people need the most help, usually we do really just need
to shut up and listen. As a friend of mine put it, "Although this
seems passive, it is not. This is real work, and requires concentration,
and the strength to refrain." I love that. The strength to refrain.
In the perfect world, none of us would ever need to know how
to save a life. But many times life is not perfect, and those
closest to us find themselves in a very dark place indeed. With
patience and concentration, we can strive to be vessels of hope,
acceptance and love when it is needed most.
video for the first (and then immediately the second, third, fourth
and fifth times) on YouTube. The video adds truth to the song's
inherent power:
The song seems ironic to me. Many of the instructions to the
listener in the lyric itself seemed doomed to failure, like:
"Let him know that you know best
Cause after all you do know best
Try to slip past his defense
Without granting innocence
Lay down a list of what is wrong
The things you've told him all along
And pray to God he hears you
And pray to God he hears you"
However, the written list of considerations in the video
seems more on the mark. Listen. Let it go. Have faith. Love.
Remember. Forgive. Open up. And so on.
I guess the narrator of the story realizes that he didn't know
what to do when it mattered the most. So he demanded this
person's attention, made lists of what was wrong, assumed he
knew best and prayed the other person would see the light.
Apparently it didn't work out. Really, he just needed to be there
as a supportive listener and friend. "And I would have stayed up
with you all night, had I known how to save a life."
When people need the most help, usually we do really just need
to shut up and listen. As a friend of mine put it, "Although this
seems passive, it is not. This is real work, and requires concentration,
and the strength to refrain." I love that. The strength to refrain.
In the perfect world, none of us would ever need to know how
to save a life. But many times life is not perfect, and those
closest to us find themselves in a very dark place indeed. With
patience and concentration, we can strive to be vessels of hope,
acceptance and love when it is needed most.
Sunday, October 28, 2007
Comet Viewing
Comet 17P/Holmes recently brightened by a factor of about one
million, and is now easily visible as a bright star in the constellation
Perseus. If you look at it through even low-powered binoculars you
can make out its distinctly non-starlike appearance as a central bright
concentration surrounded by a diffuse but bright disk.
This comet currenly has no tail, but the disk of presumably recently
ejected material is growing larger by the night. At least, that's what
fellow bloggers report. Last night was the first clear night in Maryland
since the explosive brightening was reported on October 24.
If you know how to find Cassiopea (the big W), go perpendicularly
down to from the leftmost line segment of the W. You will then easily
see a triangle of stars, even if it is hazy. Even with a bright nearly full
moon nearby. Even right next to an annoying streetlight. The top star
in the triangle is Mirfak. The lower left "star" is the comet.
This page has wonderful finding charts and a plot of the observed
comet brightness as a function of time. According to the data there,
comet 17P/Holmes will be sitting in nearly the same place for many
weeks. And if predictions are to be made from recent brightness
estimates, it should stay bright for a while too. The comet had its
closest approach with the Sun in May, but the Earth is about to
catch up with, and overtake it in its orbit, giving us our closest
approach to the comet in early November.
Nights in Maryland this October are for the most part unusually
warm and calm. The comet is visible in the night sky soon after
sunset and stays an easily observable sky object for pretty much the
entire span of darkness in the night, so it is quite easy to catch a glimpse
of it, no matter what time is convenient for you to look. So, no excuses.
Go look at it!!! Tonight, tomorrow night, and whenever you think
of it.
If you are old, like me, you will remember years of cometary nothingness
when even the return of the famous Halley's comet was a complete flop.
Things started turning around for us in the early nineties with the amazing
shows of Hyakutake and the impact of Hale-Bopp with Jupiter. My South
American friend tells me that comet McNaught was quite something this
past January. So perhaps youngsters will take these times of cometary
plenty for granted. Don't. Go outside and see this one while you can. No
one can really predict when it will fade into its former next-to-nothingness
again. It is worth buying a pair of binoculars for!
million, and is now easily visible as a bright star in the constellation
Perseus. If you look at it through even low-powered binoculars you
can make out its distinctly non-starlike appearance as a central bright
concentration surrounded by a diffuse but bright disk.
This comet currenly has no tail, but the disk of presumably recently
ejected material is growing larger by the night. At least, that's what
fellow bloggers report. Last night was the first clear night in Maryland
since the explosive brightening was reported on October 24.
If you know how to find Cassiopea (the big W), go perpendicularly
down to from the leftmost line segment of the W. You will then easily
see a triangle of stars, even if it is hazy. Even with a bright nearly full
moon nearby. Even right next to an annoying streetlight. The top star
in the triangle is Mirfak. The lower left "star" is the comet.
This page has wonderful finding charts and a plot of the observed
comet brightness as a function of time. According to the data there,
comet 17P/Holmes will be sitting in nearly the same place for many
weeks. And if predictions are to be made from recent brightness
estimates, it should stay bright for a while too. The comet had its
closest approach with the Sun in May, but the Earth is about to
catch up with, and overtake it in its orbit, giving us our closest
approach to the comet in early November.
Nights in Maryland this October are for the most part unusually
warm and calm. The comet is visible in the night sky soon after
sunset and stays an easily observable sky object for pretty much the
entire span of darkness in the night, so it is quite easy to catch a glimpse
of it, no matter what time is convenient for you to look. So, no excuses.
Go look at it!!! Tonight, tomorrow night, and whenever you think
of it.
If you are old, like me, you will remember years of cometary nothingness
when even the return of the famous Halley's comet was a complete flop.
Things started turning around for us in the early nineties with the amazing
shows of Hyakutake and the impact of Hale-Bopp with Jupiter. My South
American friend tells me that comet McNaught was quite something this
past January. So perhaps youngsters will take these times of cometary
plenty for granted. Don't. Go outside and see this one while you can. No
one can really predict when it will fade into its former next-to-nothingness
again. It is worth buying a pair of binoculars for!
Saturday, October 6, 2007
Lofty Goals
Hillary Clinton gave a speech at the Carnegie Institution of
Washington last week, in which she outlined her proposed science
policy. What a breath of fresh air to hear the ideas of this person who
could be our next President---she demonstrates clear thinking
on the issues of the day. There's a critical need now for common
sense and rationality to win out over idiology and politics as the
driving forces behind basic science policy decisions. Hillary seems
well aware of this, and poised to reverse some devastating trends
pushed along by the Bush administration. Let's hope she gets the
change to put her plans into action, and that she is able to do so.
Her speech can be found at this link.
Hillary is apparently in favor of a balanced space science program,
and sounds generally supportive of the VSE. That could be an interesting
combination! I hope the other candidates articulate their general
science policies for us in the near future.
Washington last week, in which she outlined her proposed science
policy. What a breath of fresh air to hear the ideas of this person who
could be our next President---she demonstrates clear thinking
on the issues of the day. There's a critical need now for common
sense and rationality to win out over idiology and politics as the
driving forces behind basic science policy decisions. Hillary seems
well aware of this, and poised to reverse some devastating trends
pushed along by the Bush administration. Let's hope she gets the
change to put her plans into action, and that she is able to do so.
Her speech can be found at this link.
Hillary is apparently in favor of a balanced space science program,
and sounds generally supportive of the VSE. That could be an interesting
combination! I hope the other candidates articulate their general
science policies for us in the near future.
Tuesday, October 2, 2007
Rush Limbaugh, meet Brian McGough
In this ad (on YouTube, and to be shown on CNN and FoxNews,
my nephew gives Rush Limbaugh a little whatfor regarding his
belief that the soldiers who oppose the Iraq war in the media
are "phony soldiers". Rush is defending himself by saying he
was talking only about a single phony soldier. The transcript
is out there. Google it if you want to read it yourself,
and decide what Rush really meant. My opinion is if he used
the plural "phony soldiers" he was talking about more than just
one guys.
my nephew gives Rush Limbaugh a little whatfor regarding his
belief that the soldiers who oppose the Iraq war in the media
are "phony soldiers". Rush is defending himself by saying he
was talking only about a single phony soldier. The transcript
is out there. Google it if you want to read it yourself,
and decide what Rush really meant. My opinion is if he used
the plural "phony soldiers" he was talking about more than just
one guys.
Saturday, August 25, 2007
Grilled Tequila-Lime-Chipotle Shrimp
Great for shrimp, lobster, and scallops:
The marinade:
1/2 cup tequila
juice of two limes
1/4 cup water
1/4 cup dry white wine
2 tbsp chipotle powder
Marinate fresh shrimp and other assorted seafood
favorites for 90 minutes or more.
Remove from marinade when fish appear partially
"cooked" from their exposure to the tequila.
Arrange on skewers, 3 shrimp to a rod.
Grill 4-6 minutes per side, depending on size of
seafood favorites.
Eat and enjoy!
The marinade:
1/2 cup tequila
juice of two limes
1/4 cup water
1/4 cup dry white wine
2 tbsp chipotle powder
Marinate fresh shrimp and other assorted seafood
favorites for 90 minutes or more.
Remove from marinade when fish appear partially
"cooked" from their exposure to the tequila.
Arrange on skewers, 3 shrimp to a rod.
Grill 4-6 minutes per side, depending on size of
seafood favorites.
Eat and enjoy!
Thursday, August 23, 2007
My recent reading list
The books I have finished recently...
Brave New World: Yes, it was about time I got around to reading this.
Skipping Toward Gomorrah: loved every word, and agree with it all.
Can't Buy My Love: scathing indictment of our consumerist culture.
A Long Way Gone: first person recounting of a child soldier of Sierra Leone.
The Truth (With Jokes): current events. And good jokes.
The Guy Not Taken: a bit boring and mundane compared to the review excerpts.
Where the Girls Are---Growing up female with the mass media
Brave New World: Yes, it was about time I got around to reading this.
Skipping Toward Gomorrah: loved every word, and agree with it all.
Can't Buy My Love: scathing indictment of our consumerist culture.
A Long Way Gone: first person recounting of a child soldier of Sierra Leone.
The Truth (With Jokes): current events. And good jokes.
The Guy Not Taken: a bit boring and mundane compared to the review excerpts.
Where the Girls Are---Growing up female with the mass media
Garden of Mine: End of an Era
The Cliff Notes version: Everything but the mint died.
The longer version: It started out like most other gardening
years of the recent past. We have raised beds and a compost
tumbler so the soil is rich and easy to work with. I planned
for a big salad garden and a not so intense tomato-pepper-cuke
garden for later on.
Everything got planted in on time and well. Then the weirdness
began:
the spinach never ever even sprouted, in spite of two different
plantings, two different types;
the basil never ever even sprouted, in spite of the fact that
for years and years running, it's been the best crop in the
yard;
it hardly ever rained this season, and I hardly ever watered
to compensate. And now, only the mint remains. Perhaps I will
turn it into my science experiment. Hypothesis: plants need
steady water above and beyond what is available to them in the
water table during a very dry season.
Also, I was busy with baseball, CD wrap-up in the studio, a
beach trip here and there, and lite entertaining. I let the
gardening tasks fall right off my to-do list. But I've never
done that before. I find myself trying to figure out if I should
tear it all up and put grass seed down in its place, or only
a major fraction of it. Or better yet, replace it with an
in-ground fiberglass pool. Or, perhaps more easily accepted by the rest of
the family, a batting cage.
In either case, I think that redwood colored swingset in the
middle of the back yard will also have to go. The child was
on that less than his mom was in the garden. Hard to imagine
the yard without those things, but I'm sure we'll find other things
to fill the space with.
The longer version: It started out like most other gardening
years of the recent past. We have raised beds and a compost
tumbler so the soil is rich and easy to work with. I planned
for a big salad garden and a not so intense tomato-pepper-cuke
garden for later on.
Everything got planted in on time and well. Then the weirdness
began:
the spinach never ever even sprouted, in spite of two different
plantings, two different types;
the basil never ever even sprouted, in spite of the fact that
for years and years running, it's been the best crop in the
yard;
it hardly ever rained this season, and I hardly ever watered
to compensate. And now, only the mint remains. Perhaps I will
turn it into my science experiment. Hypothesis: plants need
steady water above and beyond what is available to them in the
water table during a very dry season.
Also, I was busy with baseball, CD wrap-up in the studio, a
beach trip here and there, and lite entertaining. I let the
gardening tasks fall right off my to-do list. But I've never
done that before. I find myself trying to figure out if I should
tear it all up and put grass seed down in its place, or only
a major fraction of it. Or better yet, replace it with an
in-ground fiberglass pool. Or, perhaps more easily accepted by the rest of
the family, a batting cage.
In either case, I think that redwood colored swingset in the
middle of the back yard will also have to go. The child was
on that less than his mom was in the garden. Hard to imagine
the yard without those things, but I'm sure we'll find other things
to fill the space with.
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
Cooking with Alcohol: Soundside Swiss Sunset Fondue
I enjoy recipes that are enhanced with alcohol. This
past week, in the Outer Banks of North Carolina with
our friends, we had a request from one of the boys for
fondue night. This child has requested fondue night on
each of our last seven beach vacations. And since fondue
requires alcohol, I an only too happy to oblige him.
Only problem: in the outer banks, you must buy specialty
alcohols like, for example, KirshWasser---the required
element for swiss cheese fondue---only at ABC stores. Which
are few and far between in our soundfront dwelling.
We had to improvise.
What we did have: Rum. And maraschino cherries in syrup.
What we did with what we had: Improvise.
Here is the wonderfully tasty result, that even my picky
eater boy gave a taste. It will have a light pink hue due
to the cherry syrup. Think of the sun setting on the sound
when you see the pink.
Swiss Cheese Fondue with Cherry Rum
1/2 pound run-of-the-mill Swiss cheese
1/2 pound Gruyere cheese (required. Get this at Avon Wine and Spirits)
2 tbsp cornstarch
3 tbsp rum
1 tbsp syrup from maraschino cherries
2 cups cheap chardonnay
1 clove garlic
A loaf or two of crusty, stale french bread
(staleness can be hastened by cubing and placing in a warm oven)
a fondue pot (preferred) or a regular saucepan (bit of a pain)
Cube the bread into 1-inch cubes or smaller.
Cube the cheeses into 1-cm cubes or a bit smaller.
Mix together the rum, cherry syrup and the cornstarch. Set aside
and let meld while you prepare the fondue.
Peel skin off garlic clove. Rub the inside of the fondue pot with
the garlic clove, crushing it a little as you go.
Put two cups of wine in the fondue pot and start it simmering.
Finely chop the garlic, and add it to the wine.
When it is just about to boil, add 1/3 of the cheese cubes.
Maintain this temperature carefully; don't let the wine really boil.
Stir til nearly very well mixed.
Add a second 1/3 of the cheese cubes and stir again until nearly
well mixed.
Add the last 1/3 of the cheese cubes and again stir til nearly
well mixed.
At this point, and while stirring continuously, slowly add the rum-
cherry-cornstarch mixture, and continue to stir, adjusting heat if
necessary, until the fondue has reached a uniform consistency. At this
point it is ready for taste testing.
The taste tester should skewer a bread cube, dunk into the fondue mixture
and see if it is perfect. If it is "not", she should repeat the process. Keep
taste testing it until it is perfect. There is very little you can do at
this point to adjust it. It *will* be perfect, or nearly so. And in a moment,
the rest of your party will devour it. So keep taste testing it while you can,
and tell the folks "yup. It's almost perfect. Just another second or so..."
Serve and watch the feeding frenzy in amazement.
Next time: Chocolate fondue. With, guess what?!, rum!
past week, in the Outer Banks of North Carolina with
our friends, we had a request from one of the boys for
fondue night. This child has requested fondue night on
each of our last seven beach vacations. And since fondue
requires alcohol, I an only too happy to oblige him.
Only problem: in the outer banks, you must buy specialty
alcohols like, for example, KirshWasser---the required
element for swiss cheese fondue---only at ABC stores. Which
are few and far between in our soundfront dwelling.
We had to improvise.
What we did have: Rum. And maraschino cherries in syrup.
What we did with what we had: Improvise.
Here is the wonderfully tasty result, that even my picky
eater boy gave a taste. It will have a light pink hue due
to the cherry syrup. Think of the sun setting on the sound
when you see the pink.
Swiss Cheese Fondue with Cherry Rum
1/2 pound run-of-the-mill Swiss cheese
1/2 pound Gruyere cheese (required. Get this at Avon Wine and Spirits)
2 tbsp cornstarch
3 tbsp rum
1 tbsp syrup from maraschino cherries
2 cups cheap chardonnay
1 clove garlic
A loaf or two of crusty, stale french bread
(staleness can be hastened by cubing and placing in a warm oven)
a fondue pot (preferred) or a regular saucepan (bit of a pain)
Cube the bread into 1-inch cubes or smaller.
Cube the cheeses into 1-cm cubes or a bit smaller.
Mix together the rum, cherry syrup and the cornstarch. Set aside
and let meld while you prepare the fondue.
Peel skin off garlic clove. Rub the inside of the fondue pot with
the garlic clove, crushing it a little as you go.
Put two cups of wine in the fondue pot and start it simmering.
Finely chop the garlic, and add it to the wine.
When it is just about to boil, add 1/3 of the cheese cubes.
Maintain this temperature carefully; don't let the wine really boil.
Stir til nearly very well mixed.
Add a second 1/3 of the cheese cubes and stir again until nearly
well mixed.
Add the last 1/3 of the cheese cubes and again stir til nearly
well mixed.
At this point, and while stirring continuously, slowly add the rum-
cherry-cornstarch mixture, and continue to stir, adjusting heat if
necessary, until the fondue has reached a uniform consistency. At this
point it is ready for taste testing.
The taste tester should skewer a bread cube, dunk into the fondue mixture
and see if it is perfect. If it is "not", she should repeat the process. Keep
taste testing it until it is perfect. There is very little you can do at
this point to adjust it. It *will* be perfect, or nearly so. And in a moment,
the rest of your party will devour it. So keep taste testing it while you can,
and tell the folks "yup. It's almost perfect. Just another second or so..."
Serve and watch the feeding frenzy in amazement.
Next time: Chocolate fondue. With, guess what?!, rum!
Saturday, August 4, 2007
What a Doll
I love the Ladies. Barenaked Ladies to be more specific.
I'm a huge fan of their talent for not taking themselves
too seriously while writing deeply touching songs about
suicide, loss, relationships and other complications of
life. Here is my favorite BNLadie doing a great solo
performance of a straight-up well constructed song. In
his bathroom.
I'm a huge fan of their talent for not taking themselves
too seriously while writing deeply touching songs about
suicide, loss, relationships and other complications of
life. Here is my favorite BNLadie doing a great solo
performance of a straight-up well constructed song. In
his bathroom.
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
Hailing Frequencies Open
This weekend, my Chromie homies and I had the pleasure
of performing at the Shoreleave Star Trek convention as
the Masquerade half-time entertainment. The Masquerade
is a costume/skit contest. The half-time entertainment
keeps the room full of sci-fi fans entertained and
occupied while the judges tally their scores. Plenty
of Klngons in the running, and even a Phantom of the
Opera duo. And an amazing Jack Sparrow. They were all
winners in our book.
The guest of honor at the Conn was Nichelle Nichols,
Leuitenant Uhura from Star Trek: The Original Series.
She was gracious, warm, outspoken, chatty and beautiful.
She remembered narrating a planetarium show called Hotter
than Blue, which features our song High Energy Groove.
All the more exciting for us is that we had our Shoreleave
Special Edition of our brand new CD hot off the presses!
It's called Committed, and we still have a few copies left.
go to our Website to get one!
Phew. We're so happy the CD is done we don't quite know
what to do with ourselves. Enjoy the second half of 2007
perhaps.
of performing at the Shoreleave Star Trek convention as
the Masquerade half-time entertainment. The Masquerade
is a costume/skit contest. The half-time entertainment
keeps the room full of sci-fi fans entertained and
occupied while the judges tally their scores. Plenty
of Klngons in the running, and even a Phantom of the
Opera duo. And an amazing Jack Sparrow. They were all
winners in our book.
The guest of honor at the Conn was Nichelle Nichols,
Leuitenant Uhura from Star Trek: The Original Series.
She was gracious, warm, outspoken, chatty and beautiful.
She remembered narrating a planetarium show called Hotter
than Blue, which features our song High Energy Groove.
All the more exciting for us is that we had our Shoreleave
Special Edition of our brand new CD hot off the presses!
It's called Committed, and we still have a few copies left.
go to our Website to get one!
Phew. We're so happy the CD is done we don't quite know
what to do with ourselves. Enjoy the second half of 2007
perhaps.
Saturday, July 7, 2007
My "Trifle" Recipe
I admit it: I only have a vague idea of what a "trifle"
really is, and I am far too lazy to visit Wikipedia to
find out. I don't want to let my vague idea become marred by
reality. But I make a mean "trifle" of sorts, and it is an
easy and crowd-pleasing summer recipe. So here goes:
Go shopping for the following:
Sara Lee frozen pound cake (only store it in the fridge)
A couple cans of whipped cream
whatever kinds of FRESH berries you like (say, 2 cups)
whatever exciting alcohol is not in your possession:
(options: apricot brandy, Chambord raspberry liqueur, Grand Marnier,
you get the idea) Could be replaced by fruit juice and almond
extract if you wanna go virgin.
You probably have a big clear glass bowl or dish. Get it out.
Some of us even got "trifle dishes" along the road of life.
A few hours before dessert:
On a deep plate, mix to taste your alcohol.
Maybe 1/2 cup total? Your call.
Cut the entire pound cake into 1 centimeter-sized
little cubes. Then toss them onto the deep plate
so they become alcohol-infused.
When the cubes are moist, but still fairly solid, transfer
to a bowl and add enough whipped cream so that they kind of
stick together.
Meanwhile, slice your berries into fairly small pieces. In
a separate bowl, mix sliced berries with similar combination of
alcohol (say, 1/4 cup booze, your call). Let that meld a bit.
You can mash any blackberries or raspberries for more effect.
Now, in the clear glass bowl, layer in the following order:
-the pound cake mixture
-the berries mixture
-just whipped cream
-the pound cake mixture
-the berries mixture
-just whipped cream
Repeat those layers til you run out of stuff.
Make sure the top layer is just whipped cream.
Add a few artistically placed whole berries right on top.
Serve and enjoy!
really is, and I am far too lazy to visit Wikipedia to
find out. I don't want to let my vague idea become marred by
reality. But I make a mean "trifle" of sorts, and it is an
easy and crowd-pleasing summer recipe. So here goes:
Go shopping for the following:
Sara Lee frozen pound cake (only store it in the fridge)
A couple cans of whipped cream
whatever kinds of FRESH berries you like (say, 2 cups)
whatever exciting alcohol is not in your possession:
(options: apricot brandy, Chambord raspberry liqueur, Grand Marnier,
you get the idea) Could be replaced by fruit juice and almond
extract if you wanna go virgin.
You probably have a big clear glass bowl or dish. Get it out.
Some of us even got "trifle dishes" along the road of life.
A few hours before dessert:
On a deep plate, mix to taste your alcohol.
Maybe 1/2 cup total? Your call.
Cut the entire pound cake into 1 centimeter-sized
little cubes. Then toss them onto the deep plate
so they become alcohol-infused.
When the cubes are moist, but still fairly solid, transfer
to a bowl and add enough whipped cream so that they kind of
stick together.
Meanwhile, slice your berries into fairly small pieces. In
a separate bowl, mix sliced berries with similar combination of
alcohol (say, 1/4 cup booze, your call). Let that meld a bit.
You can mash any blackberries or raspberries for more effect.
Now, in the clear glass bowl, layer in the following order:
-the pound cake mixture
-the berries mixture
-just whipped cream
-the pound cake mixture
-the berries mixture
-just whipped cream
Repeat those layers til you run out of stuff.
Make sure the top layer is just whipped cream.
Add a few artistically placed whole berries right on top.
Serve and enjoy!
Winner's Circle
The Indians, my son's little league baseball team,
won the Greenbelt World Series last night, taking
the first two games (in the best-of-three series)!
And the boy got his first legitimate hit, which
scored the last run of their season. We are all over
the moon delighted. What an amazing way to end your
first year ever in an organized sport, eh?
There was no big party afterward, and if I'd known
that would happen, I'd have spent an hour decluttering
the house and buying beer, wine, nachos and Gatorade
and hosted one myself. But I wasn't even that prepared,
so the season appears to have ended with a whimper, as
one parent after another slowly gathered their brood,
said goodbye as if it were just another game night,
and drove out of the parking lot of 7 Southway court.
I hear there's an awards banquet in September. Maybe
that'll give me enough time to organize a post-banquet
get together on our deck and in our basement. Maybe we'll
even splurge for a foosball table by then!
Go Greenbelt! Go Indians!!!
won the Greenbelt World Series last night, taking
the first two games (in the best-of-three series)!
And the boy got his first legitimate hit, which
scored the last run of their season. We are all over
the moon delighted. What an amazing way to end your
first year ever in an organized sport, eh?
There was no big party afterward, and if I'd known
that would happen, I'd have spent an hour decluttering
the house and buying beer, wine, nachos and Gatorade
and hosted one myself. But I wasn't even that prepared,
so the season appears to have ended with a whimper, as
one parent after another slowly gathered their brood,
said goodbye as if it were just another game night,
and drove out of the parking lot of 7 Southway court.
I hear there's an awards banquet in September. Maybe
that'll give me enough time to organize a post-banquet
get together on our deck and in our basement. Maybe we'll
even splurge for a foosball table by then!
Go Greenbelt! Go Indians!!!
Saturday, June 30, 2007
Time Stand Still
In the movie "Click", Adam Sandler comes into possession
of a remote control which allows him to fast forward
through the dull and boring (according to his
disastrously incorrect assessment) years of his life.
SPOILER ALERT:
He winds up missing his kids' childhoods,
ruining his marriage and wasting his last years with
his parents.
If I had such a remote control, I'd be tempted to hit the
pause button so that the current reality could be frozen
for a good long time. It's summer. We just had a pleasant,
stress-free fun vacation with my Mom. My child is in a delightful
pre-adolescent state in which he is great company, low
maintenance, and likes having me around. His team just last
night won their final play-off game and will now go to the
Greenbelt World Series next week. He is healthy and happy,
with good and nice friends. At work, I have relatively few
deadlines or dreaded tasks, an enthusiastic and good student,
and several interesting data sets to get through which should
produce some nice results in a reasonable time. My colleagues
are all good to work with, and great to know. In aCappellaLand,
our CD is almost done, awesome sounding and looking, and I
believe it will be well received. We just did a benefit
concert last night that we all enjoyed, and we sounded good.
One of my son's friend's dad's was supposed to go to Iraq
but was relieved of the assignment due to a medical condition.
We just found out when we saw him walking down the lane Monday
evening.
In short, this is a special time in which many many things
seem to be going very very well, and it is a pleasure to float
through these days. I want to "freeze this moment a little bit
longer", in the words of Neil Peart in the Rush song "Time
Stand Still". I know exactly what he was talking about.
of a remote control which allows him to fast forward
through the dull and boring (according to his
disastrously incorrect assessment) years of his life.
SPOILER ALERT:
He winds up missing his kids' childhoods,
ruining his marriage and wasting his last years with
his parents.
If I had such a remote control, I'd be tempted to hit the
pause button so that the current reality could be frozen
for a good long time. It's summer. We just had a pleasant,
stress-free fun vacation with my Mom. My child is in a delightful
pre-adolescent state in which he is great company, low
maintenance, and likes having me around. His team just last
night won their final play-off game and will now go to the
Greenbelt World Series next week. He is healthy and happy,
with good and nice friends. At work, I have relatively few
deadlines or dreaded tasks, an enthusiastic and good student,
and several interesting data sets to get through which should
produce some nice results in a reasonable time. My colleagues
are all good to work with, and great to know. In aCappellaLand,
our CD is almost done, awesome sounding and looking, and I
believe it will be well received. We just did a benefit
concert last night that we all enjoyed, and we sounded good.
One of my son's friend's dad's was supposed to go to Iraq
but was relieved of the assignment due to a medical condition.
We just found out when we saw him walking down the lane Monday
evening.
In short, this is a special time in which many many things
seem to be going very very well, and it is a pleasure to float
through these days. I want to "freeze this moment a little bit
longer", in the words of Neil Peart in the Rush song "Time
Stand Still". I know exactly what he was talking about.
Sunday, June 3, 2007
Baseball Bein' Berry Berry Good to Us
When I was a kid, there was a skit on Saturday Night Live involving a
baseball player with limited command of the English language. His
signature phrase was "baseball been berry berry good to me."
Since April we have become increasingly absorbed into a long
standing old-town institution known as Greenbelt Baseball. With
the boy turning 9 this Spring, he (and we) graduated from machine
pitch to kid-pitch. Last year, I don't think it was even possible
to strike out. They just kept feeding balls into the machine and
aiming it right at the strike zone until a hit was obtained. Then
the many parents on the sideline would cheer and yell "run to
first base. No to FIRST base!!! No the other way, the other way!!!"
or similar. When the kids were fielding, it was quite something
to discover that they were actually paying attention if a hit came
their way. More often, they were playing in the dirt.
Not this year. About 15 minutes into the first practice I could tell:
these kids could really play baseball! Wow. Our team has several
talented pitchers, and they practice drills continuosly. Their two
coaches are very knowledgeable about the game, as well as
amazingly positive guys who each have just the right touch with
the 9-to-12-yr old boy crowd. I was a bit concerned that my boy
would get bowled over by the experience, much like Indianna
Jones must have felt with that six-foot diameter boulder barrelling
down on him. On the contrary, my Mr. Positive Thinking was
visibly delighted to be on a team with "real potential to win
the World Series" as he put it. I was all, like, "Huh? World Series?"
His team is now 12 and 1, with two weeks to go in the regular
season. Perhaps he was onto something that first day.
In addition to the impressive and delightful coaches, baseball has
introduced us to some of the coolest parents around. I've
lived in this town for 14 years but I have not come close to exhausting its
continously flowing potential of new and very interesting friends.
I hope I never do. Many of the folks in Greenbelt Baseball have
been a part of the program for generations. My boy's best friend's
Dad used to play on a team, and his Dad was the coach. And our
coaches? At least one of them was also on that team. And they
aren't the only ones. The city councilman who threw out one of
the first pitches used to play on a team with the coach of one
of the other teams. And it goes on and on. I'm amazed at how
many of these parents and coaches have known each other, and
spent time with each other at this baseball field, for as long as
they can remember. Their lives are tightly woven together for
decades. And yet they easily and warmly let "newcomers" like
us slide right in. That kind of community connection makes it
almost effortless to raise a child here. Surely it makes it seem
virtually worry-free to me. The lines between family, friends
and neighbors here seem very blurred compared to what it
was like in my childhood. And I am very very thankful for it.
It feels like everyone is looking out for everyone else.
I would be remiss if I didn't give a big shout-out to the kids
on the teams as well. From what I've seen, they are all amazingly
respectful of all the adults, and the younger kids. They are
genuinely nice. Know the meaning of the word "teamwork"
and love to play baseball.
So thank you, Greenbelt Baseball, for giving me yet another
reason to deeply adore this town. As someone said to me
a few days ago: "Greenbelt-you either get it, or you don't." I
totally get it.
baseball player with limited command of the English language. His
signature phrase was "baseball been berry berry good to me."
Since April we have become increasingly absorbed into a long
standing old-town institution known as Greenbelt Baseball. With
the boy turning 9 this Spring, he (and we) graduated from machine
pitch to kid-pitch. Last year, I don't think it was even possible
to strike out. They just kept feeding balls into the machine and
aiming it right at the strike zone until a hit was obtained. Then
the many parents on the sideline would cheer and yell "run to
first base. No to FIRST base!!! No the other way, the other way!!!"
or similar. When the kids were fielding, it was quite something
to discover that they were actually paying attention if a hit came
their way. More often, they were playing in the dirt.
Not this year. About 15 minutes into the first practice I could tell:
these kids could really play baseball! Wow. Our team has several
talented pitchers, and they practice drills continuosly. Their two
coaches are very knowledgeable about the game, as well as
amazingly positive guys who each have just the right touch with
the 9-to-12-yr old boy crowd. I was a bit concerned that my boy
would get bowled over by the experience, much like Indianna
Jones must have felt with that six-foot diameter boulder barrelling
down on him. On the contrary, my Mr. Positive Thinking was
visibly delighted to be on a team with "real potential to win
the World Series" as he put it. I was all, like, "Huh? World Series?"
His team is now 12 and 1, with two weeks to go in the regular
season. Perhaps he was onto something that first day.
In addition to the impressive and delightful coaches, baseball has
introduced us to some of the coolest parents around. I've
lived in this town for 14 years but I have not come close to exhausting its
continously flowing potential of new and very interesting friends.
I hope I never do. Many of the folks in Greenbelt Baseball have
been a part of the program for generations. My boy's best friend's
Dad used to play on a team, and his Dad was the coach. And our
coaches? At least one of them was also on that team. And they
aren't the only ones. The city councilman who threw out one of
the first pitches used to play on a team with the coach of one
of the other teams. And it goes on and on. I'm amazed at how
many of these parents and coaches have known each other, and
spent time with each other at this baseball field, for as long as
they can remember. Their lives are tightly woven together for
decades. And yet they easily and warmly let "newcomers" like
us slide right in. That kind of community connection makes it
almost effortless to raise a child here. Surely it makes it seem
virtually worry-free to me. The lines between family, friends
and neighbors here seem very blurred compared to what it
was like in my childhood. And I am very very thankful for it.
It feels like everyone is looking out for everyone else.
I would be remiss if I didn't give a big shout-out to the kids
on the teams as well. From what I've seen, they are all amazingly
respectful of all the adults, and the younger kids. They are
genuinely nice. Know the meaning of the word "teamwork"
and love to play baseball.
So thank you, Greenbelt Baseball, for giving me yet another
reason to deeply adore this town. As someone said to me
a few days ago: "Greenbelt-you either get it, or you don't." I
totally get it.
Monday, May 28, 2007
Home and Family
My sister has just left, after a one-day visit to my place for the
long weekend. It was 24 hours of sisterly good times, including
dinner out with the little man---complete with mini-cheeseburgers
for him, and supposedly 80-proof pomegranate lemonade for us
which tasted absolutely virgin to our well trained palates---, a
living room viewing of The Phantom of the Opera (wish I could
have figured out that pesky surround sound thing), and a long
luxurious midnight dip in the hot tub.
Because it was 99 degrees, we had an impatient 9-year old along,
and my sis's arthritic knee was acting up, we took a very short walk
indeed along Greenbelt Lake. Just far enough to show her from the
outside what the view would have been like from the house we tried
but failed to buy on Monday. The entire adventure seems so ill-advised
in hindsight. It's scary, and quite sobering, to realize just how short
the distance is between walking through an open house, and having
the loan officer on the phone and the real estate agent sitting next to
you on the couch with the paperwork, while you're simultaneously
reciting your employment history and lack of bankrupcy filings in
the last seven years, and figuring out how fast you can liquify every
asset you've ammassed to make a full price non-contingent offer on
a house that is far too expensive for you in your real life, let alone
that you never even knew existed it 24 hours prior. In this
market!? With our life?! Were we completely, completely
insane?!?!?!
I'm thanking the housing gods that someone was even more
aggressive than us in their desire for a 180+ lakefront view.
Our real estate agent, a lovely, warm, funny, spunky woman
we have known since the moment we set foot on Greenbelt soil
14 years ago, referred to the property as a "Prize Home". This set
off alarm bells in my head that I ignored for the several hours
following, in which said Prize Home could conceiveably be mine.
I can now hear anew the reverberations of these alarm bells. I'm just
not a Prize Home kinda gal. Hell, I'm gleeful about the trunk full of
1990's t-shirts I discovered in my basement a month or so ago, cuz
now it means I don't have to really shop for clothes for another, I
dunno, year? So it is safe to say that I don't own even one Prize
Outfit. How could one go to closing on a Prize Home without the
Prize Outfit?! My car? A 1998, bought in 2000. First car I ever
bought. Used. From Carmax. And I plan to drive it into the ground.
Which I expect to be around 2011. So, no Prize Car for the Prize
Home driveway any time soon. The list can be considered to go
on, and on, and on.
And yet, it was the only house I have ever felt that way about.
The only house I could picture every member of my family---past,
present and future---enjoying a Thanksgiving dinner within. The
only house that called to me so clearly, "Come sit on my porch, and
watch the lake undulate below you, and marvel at the dappled sunlight
through these old trees, and daydream and read and plan, and I dare
you to ever try and leave here!"
To my sister, it was just another house. No big deal. Perhaps she
was saying so just for my benefit, but it was the first time I really
heard it. And today, one week post-bid, I am thankful that I didn't
respond quite strongly enough to the call of the Prize Home. Cuz
who knows how long it would have taken before the call of the
Prize Outfit reached my ear, or the call of the Prize Car?
I'm happy to leave the Prize Items for the self-appointed winners
in the world. Because today I can still entertain the possibility that
in six months I can go down to part time in my real job, and pick up
some studio work in my off hours. This will likely, of course,
never happen, but at least today it is still a real possibility.
A topic for another day is "What good is it having options if you
never exercise these options?" For today, I'm going to be happy that
I still have options. Lots and lots of options.
I sit in one of my two houses. Both little and broken. No boxes to
pack. Plenty of time to think warm, fond, nostalgic thoughts of the
men and women in my life who have sacrificed much in too many
wars of recent memory. Thanks, folks. Your simple spirits
embue my humble home(s). And what a prize that is.
long weekend. It was 24 hours of sisterly good times, including
dinner out with the little man---complete with mini-cheeseburgers
for him, and supposedly 80-proof pomegranate lemonade for us
which tasted absolutely virgin to our well trained palates---, a
living room viewing of The Phantom of the Opera (wish I could
have figured out that pesky surround sound thing), and a long
luxurious midnight dip in the hot tub.
Because it was 99 degrees, we had an impatient 9-year old along,
and my sis's arthritic knee was acting up, we took a very short walk
indeed along Greenbelt Lake. Just far enough to show her from the
outside what the view would have been like from the house we tried
but failed to buy on Monday. The entire adventure seems so ill-advised
in hindsight. It's scary, and quite sobering, to realize just how short
the distance is between walking through an open house, and having
the loan officer on the phone and the real estate agent sitting next to
you on the couch with the paperwork, while you're simultaneously
reciting your employment history and lack of bankrupcy filings in
the last seven years, and figuring out how fast you can liquify every
asset you've ammassed to make a full price non-contingent offer on
a house that is far too expensive for you in your real life, let alone
that you never even knew existed it 24 hours prior. In this
market!? With our life?! Were we completely, completely
insane?!?!?!
I'm thanking the housing gods that someone was even more
aggressive than us in their desire for a 180+ lakefront view.
Our real estate agent, a lovely, warm, funny, spunky woman
we have known since the moment we set foot on Greenbelt soil
14 years ago, referred to the property as a "Prize Home". This set
off alarm bells in my head that I ignored for the several hours
following, in which said Prize Home could conceiveably be mine.
I can now hear anew the reverberations of these alarm bells. I'm just
not a Prize Home kinda gal. Hell, I'm gleeful about the trunk full of
1990's t-shirts I discovered in my basement a month or so ago, cuz
now it means I don't have to really shop for clothes for another, I
dunno, year? So it is safe to say that I don't own even one Prize
Outfit. How could one go to closing on a Prize Home without the
Prize Outfit?! My car? A 1998, bought in 2000. First car I ever
bought. Used. From Carmax. And I plan to drive it into the ground.
Which I expect to be around 2011. So, no Prize Car for the Prize
Home driveway any time soon. The list can be considered to go
on, and on, and on.
And yet, it was the only house I have ever felt that way about.
The only house I could picture every member of my family---past,
present and future---enjoying a Thanksgiving dinner within. The
only house that called to me so clearly, "Come sit on my porch, and
watch the lake undulate below you, and marvel at the dappled sunlight
through these old trees, and daydream and read and plan, and I dare
you to ever try and leave here!"
To my sister, it was just another house. No big deal. Perhaps she
was saying so just for my benefit, but it was the first time I really
heard it. And today, one week post-bid, I am thankful that I didn't
respond quite strongly enough to the call of the Prize Home. Cuz
who knows how long it would have taken before the call of the
Prize Outfit reached my ear, or the call of the Prize Car?
I'm happy to leave the Prize Items for the self-appointed winners
in the world. Because today I can still entertain the possibility that
in six months I can go down to part time in my real job, and pick up
some studio work in my off hours. This will likely, of course,
never happen, but at least today it is still a real possibility.
A topic for another day is "What good is it having options if you
never exercise these options?" For today, I'm going to be happy that
I still have options. Lots and lots of options.
I sit in one of my two houses. Both little and broken. No boxes to
pack. Plenty of time to think warm, fond, nostalgic thoughts of the
men and women in my life who have sacrificed much in too many
wars of recent memory. Thanks, folks. Your simple spirits
embue my humble home(s). And what a prize that is.
Sunday, May 20, 2007
All Planted In (...almost...)
In the big house garden, we've now got the full monty of veggies:
peas
carrots
potatoes
strawberries
asparagus
hot peppers
all kinds of lettuce and lettuce-like leaves
beats(!)
spaghetti squash
cucumbers
tomatoes for sauce, canning, and burgers
parsley
dill
basil
chamomile
lemon thyme
rosemary
Now what have I eaten in the last 24 hours? A cheeseburger
and hot dog at yesterday's baseball game, spanikopitas and a
baklava sundae at the Greek Festival yesterday, and a strong
moccha today.
Conclusion: Even if you grow a bunch of healthy food you do
not necessarily eat healthier! :-(
peas
carrots
potatoes
strawberries
asparagus
hot peppers
all kinds of lettuce and lettuce-like leaves
beats(!)
spaghetti squash
cucumbers
tomatoes for sauce, canning, and burgers
parsley
dill
basil
chamomile
lemon thyme
rosemary
Now what have I eaten in the last 24 hours? A cheeseburger
and hot dog at yesterday's baseball game, spanikopitas and a
baklava sundae at the Greek Festival yesterday, and a strong
moccha today.
Conclusion: Even if you grow a bunch of healthy food you do
not necessarily eat healthier! :-(
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
Three Cheers for the Boss!
On Monday, my Boss accepted a NASA Honor Award on behalf of the
Swift Ground System Team, of which I am a member. Since his wife was
not available to attend the lunchtime ceremony, I had the honor of being
his guest. The event was held at the ultra-swank banquet hall Martin's
Crosswinds. Also in attendance were several others from our lab, but
we were scattered about. The seating chart was designed to optimize
the flow of awardees from seat to on-deck-circle, to hand-shake-award-
hand-off to return-to-table. I sat next to an older man who was attending
with his mother. Even though I have been a woman in science from the
moment I left high school, I immediately and completely assumed that
his mom was there to see him accept his award. Not! In fact, this eighty-
something woman was there to accept her Distinguished Service award.
It seems she has, apparently, written The Book on high voltage power
supplies in space. Though she retired 22 years ago from NASA, engineers
still visit her at home in Bethesda to consult on their power systems
designs. I asked where she went to school, and her son described her
academic track, including her thesis work which she conducted "with a
very well known physicist by the name of Hans Bethe." The Boss and
I had a good laugh about that phrasing, since Bethe is indisputably one
of the giants of 20th century astrophysics, having figured out that the
stars, including the Sun, are powered by nuclear fusion, a major leap
forward in our understanding of pretty much the entire universe!
I wish I'd talked a bit to this guy's mom, but she was sufficiently far from
me that I only got to say hello, and congratulations. But her son was
also an interesting fellow, having served in the foreign service for the
past several decades. He's been to all the garden spots of the planet,
including Afghanistan and Iraq, where he is returning soon. He and the
Boss exchanged stories about fun places to visit while in Kenya (which is
where our ground station is located). And he joked that his mom stayed
in the satellite business all this time just so she could keep tabs on him
while he was off on his dangerous missions.
I often worry that my son is somehow silently suffering having me,
a full-time career person, as his mom. Meeting this mother-son duo
gave me hope that he'll actually turn out just fine. Who knows?
In another 40 years, maybe he'll be accompanying me to Martin's
Crosswinds, where I'll accept my NASA Honor Award for having
written the most a cappella songs about astrophysics! It's more likely
than a Grammy, anyway.
The Boss did a fine job accepting the award, even going so far as to
donn a suit jacket and tie! The food was tasty and abundant,
including a dessert of chocolate cake layers surrounding a cheesecake
center, which put an end to the beginning of my spring diet plans.
The ceremony itself was well done by the powers that be, and the
tablemates were an interesting collection. I am very grateful to have
been invited along for the ride. Thanks, Boss!!
Swift Ground System Team, of which I am a member. Since his wife was
not available to attend the lunchtime ceremony, I had the honor of being
his guest. The event was held at the ultra-swank banquet hall Martin's
Crosswinds. Also in attendance were several others from our lab, but
we were scattered about. The seating chart was designed to optimize
the flow of awardees from seat to on-deck-circle, to hand-shake-award-
hand-off to return-to-table. I sat next to an older man who was attending
with his mother. Even though I have been a woman in science from the
moment I left high school, I immediately and completely assumed that
his mom was there to see him accept his award. Not! In fact, this eighty-
something woman was there to accept her Distinguished Service award.
It seems she has, apparently, written The Book on high voltage power
supplies in space. Though she retired 22 years ago from NASA, engineers
still visit her at home in Bethesda to consult on their power systems
designs. I asked where she went to school, and her son described her
academic track, including her thesis work which she conducted "with a
very well known physicist by the name of Hans Bethe." The Boss and
I had a good laugh about that phrasing, since Bethe is indisputably one
of the giants of 20th century astrophysics, having figured out that the
stars, including the Sun, are powered by nuclear fusion, a major leap
forward in our understanding of pretty much the entire universe!
I wish I'd talked a bit to this guy's mom, but she was sufficiently far from
me that I only got to say hello, and congratulations. But her son was
also an interesting fellow, having served in the foreign service for the
past several decades. He's been to all the garden spots of the planet,
including Afghanistan and Iraq, where he is returning soon. He and the
Boss exchanged stories about fun places to visit while in Kenya (which is
where our ground station is located). And he joked that his mom stayed
in the satellite business all this time just so she could keep tabs on him
while he was off on his dangerous missions.
I often worry that my son is somehow silently suffering having me,
a full-time career person, as his mom. Meeting this mother-son duo
gave me hope that he'll actually turn out just fine. Who knows?
In another 40 years, maybe he'll be accompanying me to Martin's
Crosswinds, where I'll accept my NASA Honor Award for having
written the most a cappella songs about astrophysics! It's more likely
than a Grammy, anyway.
The Boss did a fine job accepting the award, even going so far as to
donn a suit jacket and tie! The food was tasty and abundant,
including a dessert of chocolate cake layers surrounding a cheesecake
center, which put an end to the beginning of my spring diet plans.
The ceremony itself was well done by the powers that be, and the
tablemates were an interesting collection. I am very grateful to have
been invited along for the ride. Thanks, Boss!!
Sunday, May 13, 2007
Happy Mulchers Day!
It's Mother's Day here in the land of the free. And since the only person to whom I am the Mama was at an impromptu sleepover last night, and the spouse was getting deeper and deeper into the details of his brand new studio board, I decided to take advantage of that extra house I have, and spend Mother's Day Eve in relaxing and complete solitude and calm and quiet. At least, from midnight on. The quiet was helped along by the power failure in the middle of the night, after a thunderstorm that ended, thankfully, early enough so that today is an officially top ten loveliest days in Greenbelt day.
And the power failure meant no functioning alarm clocks, hence sleeping til ten. And coffee at 11. Followed by the good news from my neighbor a bit afterward, that the humongous pile of mulch right over there is free for the taking. So today the boys will spend the afternoon mulching my tree, and washing my car, while I go to the plant store with my friend. Hey, it's not your typical champagne brunch served in bed by the adoring clan, but it works for me!
And the power failure meant no functioning alarm clocks, hence sleeping til ten. And coffee at 11. Followed by the good news from my neighbor a bit afterward, that the humongous pile of mulch right over there is free for the taking. So today the boys will spend the afternoon mulching my tree, and washing my car, while I go to the plant store with my friend. Hey, it's not your typical champagne brunch served in bed by the adoring clan, but it works for me!
Saturday, May 12, 2007
Studio Update: Jewish is More than a Bagel
We love our studio engineer, and we are delighted that he returns the love. For just over ten years now (ten years!!) my a cappella vocal band has been tweeking our evening schedules so we can spend a night or two a month in the recording studio. At first, it was an awesome and terrifying experience. We'd all had dreams, all our lives, of singing in a recording studio, and now, here we were. And we were working on our first album! Nevermind that it was self-produced. Nevermind that we'd be lucky to sell even 1000 copies, counting family and friends. We were Recording Artists now!
And here we are ten years and a few months later. Band members have come and gone. We're finishing up our sixth CD. We write our own original music now, and it's damn good. Finally, but finally, we are now Old Hat at the studio. Our jitters have been replaced by casual comfy feelings. And since we are all older and arguably wiser, we no longer refer to ourselves as Recording Artists. At least, not out loud.
Our old-hattedness is apparent in our most recent project. Wait for it. People are now paying us to come into the recording studio and record their stuff. Well, at least one person is. The project of the moment is a song book of tunes that were written for and sung by the campers and staff of Camp Achva, a day camp program put on by the Jewish Community Center of Northern Virginia. I'm a little hazy on the details, but I think the idea is that the camp is having a big reunion this summer, and the song book and CD are part of that. Our much-loved studio engineer is the one responsible for steering us and this project toward one another. We all collided in musical cacaphony three nights last week, and have two more sessions scheduled for next week.
The woman who wrote the songs is in her eighties. She was in the studio with us the other night. She's still got it goin' on in a major musical way. She had all kinds of helpful comments for us, from vocal stylings to the proper pronunciation of "oz-na-yim". She kept referring to our bass as "Old Man River". My favorite song of the collection (of fourteen which, unrealistically, we are trying to finish up in five studio sessions!) is titled "Jewish is More than a Bagel". It goes on to describe what Jewish in fact is: "a people, a nation, a law and a land and a civilization. And that beats a bagel every time."
We have enjoyed brushing up on our Hewbrew, and getting to sing in various theatrical styles that we normally shy away from. Most importantly, we're enjoying the chance of all being in the same room of the studio at the same time, singing the same songs. Normally we do each part as an individual track, which can get a bit tedious and lonely. And it feels so free to be singing someone else's songs.
I encourage anyone who loves music to find a good studio engineer and book yourself some studio time right quick. Life is short, and this is an experience you shouldn't miss out on!
And!...Long live camp Achva!
And here we are ten years and a few months later. Band members have come and gone. We're finishing up our sixth CD. We write our own original music now, and it's damn good. Finally, but finally, we are now Old Hat at the studio. Our jitters have been replaced by casual comfy feelings. And since we are all older and arguably wiser, we no longer refer to ourselves as Recording Artists. At least, not out loud.
Our old-hattedness is apparent in our most recent project. Wait for it. People are now paying us to come into the recording studio and record their stuff. Well, at least one person is. The project of the moment is a song book of tunes that were written for and sung by the campers and staff of Camp Achva, a day camp program put on by the Jewish Community Center of Northern Virginia. I'm a little hazy on the details, but I think the idea is that the camp is having a big reunion this summer, and the song book and CD are part of that. Our much-loved studio engineer is the one responsible for steering us and this project toward one another. We all collided in musical cacaphony three nights last week, and have two more sessions scheduled for next week.
The woman who wrote the songs is in her eighties. She was in the studio with us the other night. She's still got it goin' on in a major musical way. She had all kinds of helpful comments for us, from vocal stylings to the proper pronunciation of "oz-na-yim". She kept referring to our bass as "Old Man River". My favorite song of the collection (of fourteen which, unrealistically, we are trying to finish up in five studio sessions!) is titled "Jewish is More than a Bagel". It goes on to describe what Jewish in fact is: "a people, a nation, a law and a land and a civilization. And that beats a bagel every time."
We have enjoyed brushing up on our Hewbrew, and getting to sing in various theatrical styles that we normally shy away from. Most importantly, we're enjoying the chance of all being in the same room of the studio at the same time, singing the same songs. Normally we do each part as an individual track, which can get a bit tedious and lonely. And it feels so free to be singing someone else's songs.
I encourage anyone who loves music to find a good studio engineer and book yourself some studio time right quick. Life is short, and this is an experience you shouldn't miss out on!
And!...Long live camp Achva!
Monday, April 16, 2007
Yardly Tales: Yuletide in the Trenches
The scene: a lovingly set holiday table. Present: the matriarch, mid-seventies. Deeply adored husband recently deceased, and now deeply missed. All four of her children present--a rare event. These include: eldest daughter, mid-fifties, funny, smart, bright, light, a people person; second daughter, also known as middle child, socially organized but also socially sensitive, talkative and cheerful yet unnecessarily nervous; the only son, also known as the black sheep, who has recently completed retelling the saga of his just-destroyed marriage, involving the fist-fight with the 18-year-old step-son, the calling of the cops, and the obligatory restraining order; youngest daughter, also known as the unplanned pregnancy or "the mistake"--this would be me--, who accidentally got a PhD in astrophysics, inadvertantly and inexplicably ostricizing herself from all but the recently deceased, deeply adored and now deeply missed father. Eldest daughter's fiance is present--she's newly engaged!! Horay! All are delighted. Middle-child's husband is present. He is a pillar of strength and stability and all are happy and calm in his presence! Horay! Middle-child's eldest, a daughter, is expected soon, with her fiance--she has just gotten engaged. Horay! Middle-child's son and girlfriend--both veterans of Operation Enduring Freedom, also known as the Iraq war--both made it out alive and are present at our table!! Horay! And she's writing a book which will come out soon, and is showing us some of her pictures for Iraq! Awesome! Youngest daughter's husband is present, who has chatted merrily to everyone and made the best gravy ever, and is well loved by all for being among other things the father of The Only Child at the Holiday Event, namely my beloved son. Who is, as of this Holiday 2004, six years old.
You will remember, that Holiday Season 2004 is only a few short weeks beyond the shocking and painful defeat of John Kerry and John Edwards by the Forces of Evil. So among all this, while dessert is being enjoyed, is my little son. Who begins with the following:
Son: Raise your hand if you vote for George Bush.
(In the interests of fairness, I will not reveal who raises their hands. But neither of his parents raised our hands. Instead, we held our breath. We had no idea where he was going with this.)
A few people put their hands up.
Son: Oh good. Maybe one of you can give me one good reason why anyone would vote for THAT IDIOT!?!?
(His parents are at once amazed and amused. This kid's got some serious comic timing thing going on!)
One diehard Republican reported that he/she just didn't vote cuz he/she was so disgusted with the party. The only other explanation I remember was:
Anonymous: Well, I think Bush is wrong about the war in Iraq. But I do agree with all his other policies.
Really?! Another intelligent right-winger, hoodwinked by the Republican Noise Machine.
Shocking. I invite all of you who feel similarly, as well as all of us who don't, to check out the new book by Victor Gold entitled, Envasion of the Party Snatchers: How the Holy Roller and Neocons Stole the GOP." This guy is a Barry Goldwater and Bush-the-Elder insider, so his words pack a particularly powerful punch.
Perhaps my next post will be about the destruction of my civil liberties so I can retain my status as a badged employee at NASA's GSFC. If you just can't wait til my next post, then simply Google "HSPD-12". Remember 1984? Now, you don't have to.
You will remember, that Holiday Season 2004 is only a few short weeks beyond the shocking and painful defeat of John Kerry and John Edwards by the Forces of Evil. So among all this, while dessert is being enjoyed, is my little son. Who begins with the following:
Son: Raise your hand if you vote for George Bush.
(In the interests of fairness, I will not reveal who raises their hands. But neither of his parents raised our hands. Instead, we held our breath. We had no idea where he was going with this.)
A few people put their hands up.
Son: Oh good. Maybe one of you can give me one good reason why anyone would vote for THAT IDIOT!?!?
(His parents are at once amazed and amused. This kid's got some serious comic timing thing going on!)
One diehard Republican reported that he/she just didn't vote cuz he/she was so disgusted with the party. The only other explanation I remember was:
Anonymous: Well, I think Bush is wrong about the war in Iraq. But I do agree with all his other policies.
Really?! Another intelligent right-winger, hoodwinked by the Republican Noise Machine.
Shocking. I invite all of you who feel similarly, as well as all of us who don't, to check out the new book by Victor Gold entitled, Envasion of the Party Snatchers: How the Holy Roller and Neocons Stole the GOP." This guy is a Barry Goldwater and Bush-the-Elder insider, so his words pack a particularly powerful punch.
Perhaps my next post will be about the destruction of my civil liberties so I can retain my status as a badged employee at NASA's GSFC. If you just can't wait til my next post, then simply Google "HSPD-12". Remember 1984? Now, you don't have to.
Sunday, April 8, 2007
Easter in the Snow
It's Easter Sunday morning, and it doesn't look like we'll be going to church in 30 minutes, since I'm the only one awake! Yesterday morning we awoke to snow covering the trees (which all by now have flowers, and leaves and/or buds), and the daffodils and the newly green grass. It was surreal. The angle of the Sun in the sky gave you all the other visual cues of a Spring day. And yet, the ground was white.
Yesterday we spent the day with my nephew, his wife and daughter. We took in a puppet show-a new interpretation of Red Riding Hood that I thought was a yawn but the 9-yr-olds adored. Then off to the Udvar-Hazy extension of the Smithsonian Air and Space museum. Following that, a round of Balderdash, and finally a long, luxurious dinner at the Melting Pot.
On the drive home, my son shared his opinion that churches should not use electric lighting at night, but rather torches. This, he explained, is because God is ancient, and he had nothing to do with the invention of electricity. It was a good jumping off point, since my come-back was that God had just as much to do with the discovery of how electricity might work as he did with the discovery of how torches might be fashioned. To which he replied that a lot of bad things have occurred on Earth due to modern technology. To which I could reply that people on the Earth had managed to cause quite considerable mayhem to each other for many years with little more than fire at their disposal.
Perhaps not a very rosy conversation for Easter eve. But at least it let us get to a point where we were talking about people doing good things and people doing bad things and God forgiving people if they realize what they've done and seek forgiveness. Good to see that the Sunday school is paying off. Now if I can just get all the adults into the class for a couple months!
Yesterday we spent the day with my nephew, his wife and daughter. We took in a puppet show-a new interpretation of Red Riding Hood that I thought was a yawn but the 9-yr-olds adored. Then off to the Udvar-Hazy extension of the Smithsonian Air and Space museum. Following that, a round of Balderdash, and finally a long, luxurious dinner at the Melting Pot.
On the drive home, my son shared his opinion that churches should not use electric lighting at night, but rather torches. This, he explained, is because God is ancient, and he had nothing to do with the invention of electricity. It was a good jumping off point, since my come-back was that God had just as much to do with the discovery of how electricity might work as he did with the discovery of how torches might be fashioned. To which he replied that a lot of bad things have occurred on Earth due to modern technology. To which I could reply that people on the Earth had managed to cause quite considerable mayhem to each other for many years with little more than fire at their disposal.
Perhaps not a very rosy conversation for Easter eve. But at least it let us get to a point where we were talking about people doing good things and people doing bad things and God forgiving people if they realize what they've done and seek forgiveness. Good to see that the Sunday school is paying off. Now if I can just get all the adults into the class for a couple months!
Monday, April 2, 2007
Off to college in 15 minutes
My son is 9. Very funny and persuasive. A pretty good baseball player. And was born with an easygoing nature that goes a long way toward making parenthood pretty easy for his folks. But there remain two areas that frustrate us. Since he turned one, he refuses to try any new food, though he will strike previously acceptable foods off his list of consumables. And in the face of many organized efforts to teach him to go to sleep on his own, he still often needs a parent to lie in bed with him. I should mention that literally since the day he was born, he has refused to settle down for the night before 9:30 and often not til 10:30. From the day he was born.
My husband and I both work full time and we are both in busy music bands. We each have a sufficiently bloated schedule that the boy is often with only one parent from the time he gets home from school to the time he "goes to bed" for the evening. On one particular night between last Thanksgiving and New Years, he was home with me. We don't turn the TV on and limit his time on the computer or video games on school nights. So he was distraction-free. He was glued to my side the entire evening, talking to me mostly about imaginary space battles from his Star Trek imagination. Or reviewing with me plot points from episodes he'd seen before but didn't quite understand. Or just wanted to talk about again. And as the night lumbered along toward bed time, he became increasingly reluctant to let me out of his sight or away from his side. He wouldn't brush his teeth unless I was in the bathroom with him. He wouldn't go upstairs to put his pajamas on unless I went up too. He wouldn't lie down on the bed to read unless I lay down too. He wanted me to read to him. I agreed to every request, and finally, around 10:15, and feeling not a little bit exasperated, I manged to turn the light off.
"Mom?"
"Yes, son?"
"Will you tell me a story?"
In a much more negative and frustrated tone than I like to use, I answered with. "You really should be able to put yourself to sleep now that you are nine years old. You really need to think about why it is that you won't leave my side all night and then you can't just lie in your room and put yourself to sleep. Why is that? Can you give me any idea?" I was not expecting an answer.
He was quiet for a moment, and then responded with this. "Well, in about eight or nine years, I'm going to go to college." "Right." "And that time is going to pass by before we know it. It's going to seem like fifteen minutes. Or maybe two weeks." [A beat.] "And I really just want to get to know you, and spend time with you before then."
My negative attidude disappeared. Poof. I made up a story about a kid who found a spacecraft in his back yard and pushed a button and took a trip through the solar system, and counted my blessings. And I didn't stop the story until he was fast asleep.
My husband and I both work full time and we are both in busy music bands. We each have a sufficiently bloated schedule that the boy is often with only one parent from the time he gets home from school to the time he "goes to bed" for the evening. On one particular night between last Thanksgiving and New Years, he was home with me. We don't turn the TV on and limit his time on the computer or video games on school nights. So he was distraction-free. He was glued to my side the entire evening, talking to me mostly about imaginary space battles from his Star Trek imagination. Or reviewing with me plot points from episodes he'd seen before but didn't quite understand. Or just wanted to talk about again. And as the night lumbered along toward bed time, he became increasingly reluctant to let me out of his sight or away from his side. He wouldn't brush his teeth unless I was in the bathroom with him. He wouldn't go upstairs to put his pajamas on unless I went up too. He wouldn't lie down on the bed to read unless I lay down too. He wanted me to read to him. I agreed to every request, and finally, around 10:15, and feeling not a little bit exasperated, I manged to turn the light off.
"Mom?"
"Yes, son?"
"Will you tell me a story?"
In a much more negative and frustrated tone than I like to use, I answered with. "You really should be able to put yourself to sleep now that you are nine years old. You really need to think about why it is that you won't leave my side all night and then you can't just lie in your room and put yourself to sleep. Why is that? Can you give me any idea?" I was not expecting an answer.
He was quiet for a moment, and then responded with this. "Well, in about eight or nine years, I'm going to go to college." "Right." "And that time is going to pass by before we know it. It's going to seem like fifteen minutes. Or maybe two weeks." [A beat.] "And I really just want to get to know you, and spend time with you before then."
My negative attidude disappeared. Poof. I made up a story about a kid who found a spacecraft in his back yard and pushed a button and took a trip through the solar system, and counted my blessings. And I didn't stop the story until he was fast asleep.
Saturday, March 31, 2007
A French Fry Garden
I have to admit, I didn't even look into whether cocoa beans would grow in Maryland. Maybe a Real Mom would have, after my son's adorable request for a cookie garden. I didn't even think about growing peanuts for peanut-butter cookies. Or sugar cane, for sugar cookies. What I did was go along another fundamental axis of his acceptable food space and plant potatoes. For french fries. We now have a french fry garden.
We now have the following growing in our yard, in addition to the 'taters: peas, spinach, lettuce, kale, chard, beets, carrots, parsnips, asparagus, mint, rosemary, parsley, sage and a bit of garlic leftover from 2 seasons ago but still finding a way to grow. I'm officially ready for the apocalyse.
We now have the following growing in our yard, in addition to the 'taters: peas, spinach, lettuce, kale, chard, beets, carrots, parsnips, asparagus, mint, rosemary, parsley, sage and a bit of garlic leftover from 2 seasons ago but still finding a way to grow. I'm officially ready for the apocalyse.
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
The Warm and Bright Son
This weekend, the right of passage my 9-year-old son had been long fearing was upon him. Our tiny tortoise-shell kitty, 18 years old, was finally giving up. The divine Ms. M could no longer walk, and wasn't interested in eating or drinking late Saturday night. She would sit on our laps and very faintly purr a bit before returning to her comfort zone on the lowest shelf of the linen closet. I lined it with her favorite towels. My son told her "I love you. You are the best pet ever. Hopefully you'll pull through this, but probably not." He has always been a fascinating combination of optimist and realist. He is also generally calm and easy-going. (Those last two traits must have skipped at least one generation.)
She was still there the next morning looking up at me, lounging on her little shelf. Only her eyes were still, and she was gone. She looked peaceful and comfortable. We buried her in the backyard with a favorite toy (an aluminum foil ball, for batting), a soft pink baby blanket, and a love note from the boy.
A bit afterward, he offered this suggestion to his Dad and I: "Let's grow a cookie garden this year!" Thinking he was surely joking, we both responded with sarcastic laughs and "yeah, right"s. To which he retorted with a hint of impatience, "if we can't grow a cookie garden, can we at least plant chocolate chips?"
She was still there the next morning looking up at me, lounging on her little shelf. Only her eyes were still, and she was gone. She looked peaceful and comfortable. We buried her in the backyard with a favorite toy (an aluminum foil ball, for batting), a soft pink baby blanket, and a love note from the boy.
A bit afterward, he offered this suggestion to his Dad and I: "Let's grow a cookie garden this year!" Thinking he was surely joking, we both responded with sarcastic laughs and "yeah, right"s. To which he retorted with a hint of impatience, "if we can't grow a cookie garden, can we at least plant chocolate chips?"
Saturday, March 3, 2007
How 'bout the Greenbelt Victory Garden?
Well, today is the first weekend day in weeks when it hasn't been bitter cold here in Greenbelt, Maryland. So what better time to break out the seed collection, rake the last of Fall's leaves
from the raised beds, and get started with the early spring garden? It's also a great time to plan for the entire growing season ahead. What shall we plant? Where shall we plant it?
I did a bit of Web surfing while planning for the Woodland Gardens 2007 season, and
happened upon Liz' Pocket Farm blog. What a lovely and inspiring discovery! Her recent post about Victory Gardens got me thinking. During World Wars I and II the US government encouraged everyone to grow as much of their own food as possible via family and community "Victory Gardens." And the public responded enthusiastically. In 1943, more than half the US
population grew some fraction of their own food right in their own backyards or in neighborhood plots.
Now there is a move to bring back this concept. But for 2007, the goal is to combat global warming. The produce you consume has to be transported from someplace, on average 1500 miles away. So every bit you grow on your own turf helps reduce your personal impact on the planet. A good goal. Plus it's fun, tasty and satisfying to consume your own Earthly delights.
Well another blogger named Szarka left a comment on Liz's blog about hoping to share her produce with a local chef who could then create a "half-mile menu", on which all offerings were prepared using ingredients that were grown within a half a mile.
So I have gotten motivated now. I suggested that our local restaurant, the New Deal Cafe, come up with a "half-mile menu" in which they serve up soups, salads and what-not based as much as possible on the fruits, vegetables and herbs grown by Greenbelt's very own Victory Gardeners. There are many of us here in our little town. All that remains is linking up the avid gardeners with the New Deal Cafe chef! I did manage to get the president of the New Deal Cafe board interested. I'll keep this blog updated on our progress as the garden season progresses.
Coming back down to Earth, today we planted peas, three kinds of lettuce, and Kale.
There is plenty of rosemary to be had, and the last of the 2006 carrots and parsnips came out
of the ground this afteroon. Yippee, and yum!
from the raised beds, and get started with the early spring garden? It's also a great time to plan for the entire growing season ahead. What shall we plant? Where shall we plant it?
I did a bit of Web surfing while planning for the Woodland Gardens 2007 season, and
happened upon Liz' Pocket Farm blog. What a lovely and inspiring discovery! Her recent post about Victory Gardens got me thinking. During World Wars I and II the US government encouraged everyone to grow as much of their own food as possible via family and community "Victory Gardens." And the public responded enthusiastically. In 1943, more than half the US
population grew some fraction of their own food right in their own backyards or in neighborhood plots.
Now there is a move to bring back this concept. But for 2007, the goal is to combat global warming. The produce you consume has to be transported from someplace, on average 1500 miles away. So every bit you grow on your own turf helps reduce your personal impact on the planet. A good goal. Plus it's fun, tasty and satisfying to consume your own Earthly delights.
Well another blogger named Szarka left a comment on Liz's blog about hoping to share her produce with a local chef who could then create a "half-mile menu", on which all offerings were prepared using ingredients that were grown within a half a mile.
So I have gotten motivated now. I suggested that our local restaurant, the New Deal Cafe, come up with a "half-mile menu" in which they serve up soups, salads and what-not based as much as possible on the fruits, vegetables and herbs grown by Greenbelt's very own Victory Gardeners. There are many of us here in our little town. All that remains is linking up the avid gardeners with the New Deal Cafe chef! I did manage to get the president of the New Deal Cafe board interested. I'll keep this blog updated on our progress as the garden season progresses.
Coming back down to Earth, today we planted peas, three kinds of lettuce, and Kale.
There is plenty of rosemary to be had, and the last of the 2006 carrots and parsnips came out
of the ground this afteroon. Yippee, and yum!
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
What about Gardening?
I live in the indescribably good and beautiful town of Greenbelt, Maryland. People who own small cooperative housing units here---part of a group known as Greenbelt Homes Incorporated, or GHI---are community minded, friendly, environmentally conscious, and original. A smaller group of Greenbelters own single family homes, mostly smallish brick houses built in the 1950s through 1970s.
A lot of Greenbelters, myself included, work at nearby NASA Goddard Space Flight Center. Another segment of the Greenbelt population is active in the local arts scene. We have an amazingly talented group of potters, a local restaurant, the New Deal Cafe---which hosts arts displays and sales, our very own Greenbelt Arts Center, a dance studio, a brand new Yoga studio, and the list goes on and on.
So what better place, both literally and figuratively, to begin blogging about the interfaces of science and art that good Old Greenbelt?
Many Greenbelters are devoted to gardening. A spectacular array of trees, shrubs and flowers adorn the small front yards of many GHIs. For others like me, the allure of picking, preparing and serving garden-fresh delights through the warmer months is encouragement enough to cultivate a wide variety of fruits, vegetables and herbs. I wonder what a "Greenbelt Gardener's Market" would be like. I'm confident the displays of homegrown goodness would exceed most people's expectations.
For Mother's Day 1999, my husband double dug me a large garden plot in our backyard. The yard itself is in partial sun, but certain spots of it get enough light to go for the gusto and grow tomatoes, cucumbers and the other sun-loving veggies. Here are a few highlights of the last several seasons:
Throughout the summer of 2000 it was so cool and rainy that not a single tomato ripened before September. Then they all turned red, burgandy, yellow and orange nearly at once. My father, who was in hospice care during those Fall months, really enjoyed the offerings of fresh tomato soup back then. The color of the soup depended on the variety of the tomatoes used.
(Choices ranged from traditional red Roma, to the more pink Brandywine, through golden and yellow varieties.)
On Christmas morning 2001 my son and I picked fresh sugar snap peas for our dinner that night. It had been a mild winter so far, and most of the Fall vegetables we'd planted that August made it all the way through to the new year.
We ate many a fresh salad from the garden in September 2003, after hurricane Isabel knocked out our power for the better part of four days.
During summer 2005 we had a few parties out on our patio, which adjoins the garden. Several expedition parties would break off throughout the evening to sample the strawberries and other goodies that could be picked and eaten right in the garden. A bit hit was the copious asparagus.
In the spring of 2006 a nest of baby bunnies snuggled under the impromptu cold frame we'd built using an old greenhouse shelfing frame and a clear plastic cover. They were safe from predators, and very cute.
In January 2007, just a few weeks ago and before the brutal cold spell, we were picking and enjoying last Fall's carrots, parsnips, mint, parsley and even some volunteer broccoli.
In general, we have been pretty successful with cooler-season veggies. It is not uncommon for us to have virtually a 4-season garden, as our last Fall crops overwinter through the generally fairly mild winters. If we plan it right, we're eating spinach salads from the garden in March as we're planning what to grow for the upcoming seasons.
Now if it weren't such backbreaking and continuous work!
A lot of Greenbelters, myself included, work at nearby NASA Goddard Space Flight Center. Another segment of the Greenbelt population is active in the local arts scene. We have an amazingly talented group of potters, a local restaurant, the New Deal Cafe---which hosts arts displays and sales, our very own Greenbelt Arts Center, a dance studio, a brand new Yoga studio, and the list goes on and on.
So what better place, both literally and figuratively, to begin blogging about the interfaces of science and art that good Old Greenbelt?
Many Greenbelters are devoted to gardening. A spectacular array of trees, shrubs and flowers adorn the small front yards of many GHIs. For others like me, the allure of picking, preparing and serving garden-fresh delights through the warmer months is encouragement enough to cultivate a wide variety of fruits, vegetables and herbs. I wonder what a "Greenbelt Gardener's Market" would be like. I'm confident the displays of homegrown goodness would exceed most people's expectations.
For Mother's Day 1999, my husband double dug me a large garden plot in our backyard. The yard itself is in partial sun, but certain spots of it get enough light to go for the gusto and grow tomatoes, cucumbers and the other sun-loving veggies. Here are a few highlights of the last several seasons:
Throughout the summer of 2000 it was so cool and rainy that not a single tomato ripened before September. Then they all turned red, burgandy, yellow and orange nearly at once. My father, who was in hospice care during those Fall months, really enjoyed the offerings of fresh tomato soup back then. The color of the soup depended on the variety of the tomatoes used.
(Choices ranged from traditional red Roma, to the more pink Brandywine, through golden and yellow varieties.)
On Christmas morning 2001 my son and I picked fresh sugar snap peas for our dinner that night. It had been a mild winter so far, and most of the Fall vegetables we'd planted that August made it all the way through to the new year.
We ate many a fresh salad from the garden in September 2003, after hurricane Isabel knocked out our power for the better part of four days.
During summer 2005 we had a few parties out on our patio, which adjoins the garden. Several expedition parties would break off throughout the evening to sample the strawberries and other goodies that could be picked and eaten right in the garden. A bit hit was the copious asparagus.
In the spring of 2006 a nest of baby bunnies snuggled under the impromptu cold frame we'd built using an old greenhouse shelfing frame and a clear plastic cover. They were safe from predators, and very cute.
In January 2007, just a few weeks ago and before the brutal cold spell, we were picking and enjoying last Fall's carrots, parsnips, mint, parsley and even some volunteer broccoli.
In general, we have been pretty successful with cooler-season veggies. It is not uncommon for us to have virtually a 4-season garden, as our last Fall crops overwinter through the generally fairly mild winters. If we plan it right, we're eating spinach salads from the garden in March as we're planning what to grow for the upcoming seasons.
Now if it weren't such backbreaking and continuous work!
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