Thankful for:
Kendra
Our families' continued health
Kayla
The great state of NC
Cheerwine
Stuffed portobello caps
Sugar cakes
Moravian tea cookies
The Panthers beating the Bills
Hybrid cars
Leaving early enough on Wednesday to miss the exploding tanker truck on I-95
The music of Johnny Cash and June Carter Cash
Butterstick
Monday, November 28, 2005
The year of the Turkey
We just got back from the NC yesterday. Took the back way down 301 and 3, way away from the infamous post-Thanksgiving clusterfuck around the district. Some bizarre old motels and enough drive-through liquor stores to drown an entire nation's sorrows.
And they wonder why drunk driving is such a problem in southern Mary Land.
Saw Walk the Line with my parents. Dad sang along every time Joaquin Phoenix hit the stage, probably the happiest he's been in a long time. Mom liked it too. I can see how some folks would call this Cash: Behind the Music, but I think any weaknesses in the film disappear in the sheer power of the storytelling and the performances of both Phoenix and Witherspoon. The movie conjures up a lost world when stars drove their own cars and were happy to get a nice ranch house and a half-acre lot. It brings out the power and emotion of Cash's earlier songs and revitalizes his music for future generations.
In other news: Was chased by deranged turkey. Possibly grieving for his millions of slain brothers and sisters. Or just plain mean. In either case: Turkeys do not make good pets.
We spent some time reliving our childhoods in Old Salem. Even though we never went together, it was like having a shared memory. We didn't pay the fee to look inside the historical buildings. I've seen the whole candlestick-making routine before, when my parents paid for it. We did wander for a while and buy sugar cake. We didn't actually know what sugar cake was until after we'd paid for it. They brought it out, fresh from the oven, and placed a tray on the counter. Sweet and hot and oh so good. Moravilicious.
And they wonder why drunk driving is such a problem in southern Mary Land.
Saw Walk the Line with my parents. Dad sang along every time Joaquin Phoenix hit the stage, probably the happiest he's been in a long time. Mom liked it too. I can see how some folks would call this Cash: Behind the Music, but I think any weaknesses in the film disappear in the sheer power of the storytelling and the performances of both Phoenix and Witherspoon. The movie conjures up a lost world when stars drove their own cars and were happy to get a nice ranch house and a half-acre lot. It brings out the power and emotion of Cash's earlier songs and revitalizes his music for future generations.
In other news: Was chased by deranged turkey. Possibly grieving for his millions of slain brothers and sisters. Or just plain mean. In either case: Turkeys do not make good pets.
We spent some time reliving our childhoods in Old Salem. Even though we never went together, it was like having a shared memory. We didn't pay the fee to look inside the historical buildings. I've seen the whole candlestick-making routine before, when my parents paid for it. We did wander for a while and buy sugar cake. We didn't actually know what sugar cake was until after we'd paid for it. They brought it out, fresh from the oven, and placed a tray on the counter. Sweet and hot and oh so good. Moravilicious.
Monday, November 21, 2005
Bastards!
A panda-crazed public crashed servers and, possibly, killed one or two National Zoo staffers in the rush to gobble up all the Butterstick viewing tickets before I could even get a cup of coffee. Several mothers were sold into slavery, also many sets of eye teeth are reported missing.
DC Metro police and Zoo interns are currently cleaning up the carnage along Connecticut Ave. Massive triage in the Zoo Bar. Starbucks has been torched. Police are advising all residents and visitors to avoid the area between Cleveland Park and Woodley Park Metro stops until further notice.
Every day from here to January 2 is booked. Solid.
Bastards.
I hope you enjoy all the nose-twitching, bamboo-munching Buttertastic cuteness.
Bastards.
DC Metro police and Zoo interns are currently cleaning up the carnage along Connecticut Ave. Massive triage in the Zoo Bar. Starbucks has been torched. Police are advising all residents and visitors to avoid the area between Cleveland Park and Woodley Park Metro stops until further notice.
Every day from here to January 2 is booked. Solid.
Bastards.
I hope you enjoy all the nose-twitching, bamboo-munching Buttertastic cuteness.
Bastards.
Friday, November 18, 2005
Adventures in Grocery Shopping
We needed some things from the store anoche, but we didn't go to our usual Giant on York Rd. The Super Fresh in Hampden is closer, so we figured, what the hell, it's just M&Ms and stuffing ingredients. No big deal.
Turns out they've been renovating. They knocked down a wall and quintupled the size of the produce section. With all the new, muted colors (read: Whole Foods, Earth Fare), pleasing signs and hip new logo, the dirty old Super Fresh is mutating into superfresh. We seriously thought we'd stop going to Giant when we saw it.
New store, same customers. Everyone else insisted on cutting me off whenever I got more than a foot from Kendra and creating cart-blockades in random aisles just for fun.
By the time we reached the bread aisle, we encountered two dirty, gibber-jabbering tykes with an empty cart. They just wandered around, shouting about needing bread. Kendra tried to help them, but couldn't understand their peculiar little language -- perhaps a local Hampden dialect. I had to pull her away, her concern outlasting my patience. They zoomed by in the cart afterwards, no bread in hand and no parents in sight.
No one knew how to use the self-check-out machines, and most were ringing up a cart-load of groceries, completely defeating the purpose. We did as the computer told us and went to the cashier for our change, but she just looked at us like we were stupid. She gave us the coins, but the rest of our change was just sitting there at the machine, waiting for somone to yoink it.
All in all, not worth missing half of Everybody Hates Chris.
Turns out they've been renovating. They knocked down a wall and quintupled the size of the produce section. With all the new, muted colors (read: Whole Foods, Earth Fare), pleasing signs and hip new logo, the dirty old Super Fresh is mutating into superfresh. We seriously thought we'd stop going to Giant when we saw it.
New store, same customers. Everyone else insisted on cutting me off whenever I got more than a foot from Kendra and creating cart-blockades in random aisles just for fun.
By the time we reached the bread aisle, we encountered two dirty, gibber-jabbering tykes with an empty cart. They just wandered around, shouting about needing bread. Kendra tried to help them, but couldn't understand their peculiar little language -- perhaps a local Hampden dialect. I had to pull her away, her concern outlasting my patience. They zoomed by in the cart afterwards, no bread in hand and no parents in sight.
No one knew how to use the self-check-out machines, and most were ringing up a cart-load of groceries, completely defeating the purpose. We did as the computer told us and went to the cashier for our change, but she just looked at us like we were stupid. She gave us the coins, but the rest of our change was just sitting there at the machine, waiting for somone to yoink it.
All in all, not worth missing half of Everybody Hates Chris.
Needles
I just got back from more than 2 hours of waiting for a flu shot at the supermarket. 2 hours. For those of you playing at home, yes, my lunch hour is only that: an hour. However, I called in on my trusty cellphone, and all is well.
First off, they started late. 30 full minutes. There was only one woman to do it all: take money, sign forms, answer questions, poke you with the needle. The store people gave us each a big book of coupons, but since we don't shop there, the savings aren't being passed on to us.
They didn't run out of shots. At least, not before I got my turn. There were 70 shots available, and about 50 or so people signed up when I left, with more trickling in.
If you see a coughing bird, run. That's all you can do.
First off, they started late. 30 full minutes. There was only one woman to do it all: take money, sign forms, answer questions, poke you with the needle. The store people gave us each a big book of coupons, but since we don't shop there, the savings aren't being passed on to us.
They didn't run out of shots. At least, not before I got my turn. There were 70 shots available, and about 50 or so people signed up when I left, with more trickling in.
If you see a coughing bird, run. That's all you can do.
Friday, November 11, 2005
Tunes
I've peeked out beyond the the safety of my cd collection lately and tuned into some radio broadcasts from around the country.
Who let Fiona Apple out of her cell at Charter Pines? When she says she just had to break the window, I believe her. Still, the songs they're playing right now on WTMD actually sound pretty good, in a girl-interrupted kind of way. Time for tofurkey.
Speaking of blasts from the past, Joan Osborne's (sp?) one song playing the airwaves right now really hits the groove. It has a great roots-rock feel. I'm actually surprised. I really thought she was one of our generation's one-hit wonders.
Matisyahu. I know. Just another hasidic raggae-rapper. Not sure if I can wrap my head around this, but it beats all those Jesus-freak rockers clogging a huge chunk of the commercial airwaves right now. This guy actually has talent. Turns out that God is the greatest producer of all. Who knew?
Who let Fiona Apple out of her cell at Charter Pines? When she says she just had to break the window, I believe her. Still, the songs they're playing right now on WTMD actually sound pretty good, in a girl-interrupted kind of way. Time for tofurkey.
Speaking of blasts from the past, Joan Osborne's (sp?) one song playing the airwaves right now really hits the groove. It has a great roots-rock feel. I'm actually surprised. I really thought she was one of our generation's one-hit wonders.
Matisyahu. I know. Just another hasidic raggae-rapper. Not sure if I can wrap my head around this, but it beats all those Jesus-freak rockers clogging a huge chunk of the commercial airwaves right now. This guy actually has talent. Turns out that God is the greatest producer of all. Who knew?
Inalienable
The Rat makes a good point about the government's role in protecting property rights. Rights are not granted by the government, period. We have rights whether the government acknowledges them or not. Letting the government grant rights means letting it take them away at any time.
Black people had the right to equal treatment and opportunity way back in the days of slavery, despite the many laws that said otherwise. Women always had the right to vote; the government just finally acknowledged the fact in the 1920s. Of course, it is easy to say that our rights are inalienable, but why are they?
Despite what Jefferson wrote, we really can't say that our rights come from our creator when most of us can't agree on what version of what god to worship, or even whether to worship one at all. We seem to all agree that we have these inalienable rights, but where do they come from? If not a divine spark or the government, then where else? Is there a single source, or do we derive our rights from multiple sources?
The best I can figure is that we have these rights because we can conceive of them and agree upon them. We've spent millennia fighting wars and debating to come to a consensus on what rights we have. Of course, the flaw in that argument is what happens if the majority decides that a minority does not have a right, even when that minority has a legitimate claim?
What do you think, folks?
Black people had the right to equal treatment and opportunity way back in the days of slavery, despite the many laws that said otherwise. Women always had the right to vote; the government just finally acknowledged the fact in the 1920s. Of course, it is easy to say that our rights are inalienable, but why are they?
Despite what Jefferson wrote, we really can't say that our rights come from our creator when most of us can't agree on what version of what god to worship, or even whether to worship one at all. We seem to all agree that we have these inalienable rights, but where do they come from? If not a divine spark or the government, then where else? Is there a single source, or do we derive our rights from multiple sources?
The best I can figure is that we have these rights because we can conceive of them and agree upon them. We've spent millennia fighting wars and debating to come to a consensus on what rights we have. Of course, the flaw in that argument is what happens if the majority decides that a minority does not have a right, even when that minority has a legitimate claim?
What do you think, folks?
Wednesday, November 02, 2005
It takes an Urban Village
Every day I pass by the same empty parking lot by the metro station at Northern and Wabash, and every day I wonder when the state will finally decide to stop wasting that land waiting for commuters who never come and turn it into a mixed-use, pedestrian-friendly neighborhood centered around that metro station.
Streuver whatnot and Rouse are already renovating that mill near the Woodberry light-rail station, why can't the same be done at this station?
Not only should the parking lot be redeveloped, but the entire area around it. The ugly NorthWest stripmall down the road could be completely rehabilitated as an urban village. A little catalyst in the form of state investment could generate a huge payoff for the city, especially the West side.
Streuver whatnot and Rouse are already renovating that mill near the Woodberry light-rail station, why can't the same be done at this station?
Not only should the parking lot be redeveloped, but the entire area around it. The ugly NorthWest stripmall down the road could be completely rehabilitated as an urban village. A little catalyst in the form of state investment could generate a huge payoff for the city, especially the West side.
Tuesday, November 01, 2005
O Great Pumpkin!
Success!
No trick or treaters this year, for the third year in a row. We used to be sad that they didn't show up, but quite frankly, I'm just a little tired of handing out my hard-earned candy to a bunch of ungrateful kids I've never met.
It's not like Christmastime when they pretend to be good all of a sudden so Santa will bring them toys. Have they ever washed my car, raked leaves or offered to walk the dog?
This side entrance is the perfect trick-or-treater deterrent.
Look folks, you chose to have kids, you give them and their pals the candy-candy. When I have kids I'll dish out the sweets like anyone else, but don't come a' knockin' on my door every October 31 with your hands out until little Andrew and Addison show up.
In fact, since Baxter and his folks dropped by unexpectedly, all Great-Pumpkin like, I'd have to say that this was the Best Halloween Ever!
No trick or treaters this year, for the third year in a row. We used to be sad that they didn't show up, but quite frankly, I'm just a little tired of handing out my hard-earned candy to a bunch of ungrateful kids I've never met.
It's not like Christmastime when they pretend to be good all of a sudden so Santa will bring them toys. Have they ever washed my car, raked leaves or offered to walk the dog?
This side entrance is the perfect trick-or-treater deterrent.
Look folks, you chose to have kids, you give them and their pals the candy-candy. When I have kids I'll dish out the sweets like anyone else, but don't come a' knockin' on my door every October 31 with your hands out until little Andrew and Addison show up.
In fact, since Baxter and his folks dropped by unexpectedly, all Great-Pumpkin like, I'd have to say that this was the Best Halloween Ever!
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