Lake Loop

2009: The Year in Books

2009-12-31T17:14:00.007-05:00

This has been a busy year, as evidenced by the lack of activity around here. We took a fabulous two week vacation over the summer and had a really amazing time in Ireland. In my mind, that sort of represents the end of my blogging: after two weeks away, it was hard to get back to the computer.

Photo by SodaBoy
However, looking at my archives, that's not entirely true -- I have been more or less absent all year. One benefit of blogging less is reading more, at least compared to some years. Without further ado, I present the list of books I read in 2009:

Hoot [fiction] by Carl Hiassen
Fieldwork [fiction] by Mischa Berlinski
Scarlet Feather [fiction] by Maeve Binchy
The Hour I First Believed [fiction] by Wally Lamb
The Islandman [memoir] by Tomas O’Crohan
Baby Proof [fiction] by Emily Giffin
The Watchmen [graphic novel] by Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons
Bottomfeeder: How to Eat Ethically in a World of Vanishing Seafood [non-fiction] by Taras Grescoe
McCarthy’s Bar [travel] by Pete McCarthy
The Way That I Went [non-fiction] by Robert Lloyd Praeger
Catherine, Called Birdy [fiction] by Karen Cushman
Animal, Vegetable, Miracle: A Year of Food Life [non-fiction] by Barbara Kingsolver
Terror on the Burren [fiction] by Re O Laighleis
Frog Haven [fiction manuscript] by Mary Stebbins Taitt
Digging to America [fiction] by Anne Tyler
Budding Prospects [fiction] by T.C. Boyle
How the Irish Saved Civilization [non-fiction] by Thomas Cahill
Jaywalking with the Irish [travel] by David Monagan
Good Omens [fiction] by Terry Pratchett & Neil Gaiman
Adirondack Peak Experiences: Mountaineering Adventures, Misadventures, and the Pursuit of “The 46” [essays] edited by Carol Stone White
Cannery Row [fiction] by John Steinback
Mt. Everest: Confessions of an Amateur Peak Bagger [travel] by Kevin Flynn
Northanger Abbey [fiction] by Jane Austen
To See Every Bird on Earth [non-fiction] by Dan Koeppel
Handle with Care [fiction] by Jodi Picoult
Jaguar: One Man’s Struggle to Establish the World’s First Jaguar Preserve [non-fiction] by Alan Rabinowitz
Parable of the Sower [fiction] by Octavia Butler
Storkbites [memoir] by Marie Etienne

Happy New Year!! And happy reading in 2010...

Awesomeness

2009-10-02T19:29:00.004-04:00

Carl Sagan - 'A Glorious Dawn' featuring Stephen Hawking (Cosmos Remixed). Many thanks to melodysheep for the amazing tribute.

Summiting Whiteface

2009-09-27T16:20:00.025-04:00

Whiteface and Esther are the northern-most of the Adirondack high peaks, set well apart from the rest. Due to that separation, Whiteface is easy to identify from a distance, especially given the distinctive slides, ski slopes, and castle-like structure perched up top. On the Saturday morning of our climb, we picked it out on the drive to the trailhead without those giveaway landmarks: it was the one entirely ensconced in clouds.

We parked at the ASRC just after 8 am, and after a few minutes of last minute gear shuffling, we set off. SodaBoy has long been adamant in his refusal to climb a mountain that can be driven up, so I enlisted Nadine as my hiking partner for the day. With a few high peaks under her belt already, I thought she might be susceptible to gentle persuasion, and she took the bait hook, line, and sinker.

Having climbed Esther in 2007 from the same trailhead, I knew the trail starts rising very steeply just past White Brook, and continues straight up for nearly a mile, the type of steady ascent that results in much profuse sweating. With that knowledge, I didn’t layer up much at the start, just a short sleeve wicking shirt with it’s long sleeve mate on top. Still, the air temperatures had not yet reached 40°F, and the first few minutes of the hike are downhill. It was cold!

A shivering Nadine may have been re-considering her decision to join me at that point, but I gave her a fleece-lined wool hat from my pack, and that helped a bit. Plus the ascent of Marble Mountain was just as I remembered, and once we’d been at that for a few minutes, all sensations of coldness quickly faded. The hat went back in the pack, along with my long sleeve wicker.

We reached the waypoint of Marble Mountain around 9 am, and found some new cairns leading to the junction with the Wilmington Trail. But before moving onward and upward, we took a break to soak in the views from Marble Mountain. The clouds hadn’t burned off yet and were still socking in some distant peaks, but we were low enough to be under them and could see sun shining down in the valley. Although the views were lovely, we didn’t stay long, as the wind was whipping fiercely, making our backs contract in painfully icy horror whenever the sweat-soaked shirts made contact with skin. [Wicking fabric is great, but it has limited powers when squished under a backpack; there‘s just no place for the moisture to go.]

View from Marble Mountain
Happy to have the most grueling part of the hike behind us, we continued the ascent. After reaching the plateau of Lookout Mountain, we started to see little bits of ice littering the mossy forest floor adjacent to the trail. By this time the clouds had burned off to a beautiful clear blue sky. Nadine spied a balsam spire coated with ice, and we deduced that the sunshine was melting the ice enough to drop it off the trees. Oddly, this made us giddy with joy, and we scooped up handfuls of the stuff and took lots of silly pictures. Little did we know the icy splendor that awaited further up.

Balsam Spire, Covered with Ice
We soon got our next taste of the development that makes Whiteface so different from the other high peaks, encountering a freshly cut downhill ski slope. The Olympic Regional Development Authority recently expanded the existing multitude of ski slopes onto Lookout Mountain, and the red-marked Wilmington hiking trail crosses over the intermediate level Wilmington ski trail. Let me just say that downhill ski trails are not particularly attractive without a forgiving layer of snow, and leave it at that.

Further along the trail, a large clearcut was visible to the east, so we picked our way over to have a look. It was the triple chairlift providing access to the trail we’d crossed, along with the expert level Hoyt's High trail. We basked in the sun briefly, and even found a thermometer hung on the snow-making equipment that showed the temperature to have finally reached exactly 40°F (albeit in the sun).

Map of the Whiteface Ski Trails, Highlighting the New Lookout Mountain Trails
Image from the official Whiteface website
Moving along, we soon came to the next sign of development: the huge rock embankment holding up the Whiteface Mountain Veterans Memorial Highway. A quick scramble over loose boulders put us over the wall, and we found ourselves in the incongruous position of standing on the side of the road, with an interpretive sign and a tidily painted crosswalk to safely usher automotive visitors across from a small parking area. Whiteface is so bizarre.

Spying the red blaze of the Wilmington Trail tacked to a balsam sapling on a looming boulder high above us, we scrambled up, happy to turn away from the highway and begin the final ascent. At this point, even though it was nearly 11:30 am, everything was covered with a thick layer of rime ice. We were high on the mountain, mostly just scrambling over bare rock, with tiny krummholz balsams the only remaining trees. We took several successive breaks, to add layers against the wind and to snap photos. It was spectacularly beautiful, and we were in solid agreement that this was out favorite part of the hike.

View of the Final Ascent
View Down, with Esther to the Left
Detail of Ice on Balsam
The summit of Whiteface is a very strange place. The highway goes nearly to the top, with a short 0.2 mile “nature trail” to the summit with concrete steps and hand rails, and for those who find that too rigorous, there is an elevator built into the core of the mountain. The Wilmington trail deposits the sweaty hiker right on the summit, surrounded by milling motorists dressed in a gamut of inappropriate clothing (flip flops and high heels were among the most egregious offenders). One nice feature is an interpretive sign labeling the distant summits in the heart of the high peaks. After snapping the requisite photos, we went inside the building to look at the displays, which seemed to be equally focused on the many types of ice found above treeline, and old black & white photographs of dignitaries on skis.

Then we decided to walk down the “nature trail” to check out the concession stand, which was replete with modern plumbing, kitschy gifts, and cafeteria style food. [Full disclosure: we had cups of broccoli cheddar soup along with some of the food we’d carried up, meaning of course we had to haul some of our supplies to back down again uneaten.] Then, for the experience of being inside the core of the mountain, we waited in line to ride the elevator back up to the top with the spiffy tourists. Looking at our watches before beginning our descent, we were shocked to realize it was 2 pm and we’d been on the summit for nearly two hours.

View from the Whiteface Summit
An hour later, we were back down to the junction with the unmaintained trail to Esther. Since I’d already bagged Esther, I had told Nadine the decision about whether to add Esther to the hike was entirely up to her. It is only 1.2 easy miles from the Wilmington Trail out to the Esther summit, and given that we had plenty of daylight left, Nadine didn’t hesitate to push on to Esther. So out we went, making good time, arriving at the summit at 3:30 pm. We spent 30 minutes taking photos, lolling in the sun, and snacking before heading out, arriving back at the Wilmington Trail junction at 4:30 pm. One nice thing about Esther is the solitude. Despite the busy nature of Whiteface and the Wilmington Trail, we didn’t see any other humans the whole way out to Esther or back.

For the Sheer Joy of Climbing (Esther Summit Marker)
The rest of the descent was uneventful, and we were back to the vehicle by 6 pm. We’d forgotten to bring spare shoes for a quick change of footwear, but did have a cooler with cans of V8, which always tastes great after sweating like crazy for hours on end. Even though Whiteface would rank low on the list of repeatable hikes due to all the development, it was a gorgeous day, and we had a blast. The rime ice was a special and unexpected joy. Total hike: 10.4 miles, 10 hours, 9/19/2009.

Whiteface - Elevation: 4867 feet, Order of Height: 5, Order of Ascension: 12; Esther - Elevation: 4240 feet, Order of Height: 28, Order of Ascension: 9.

Incidentally

2009-09-14T20:05:00.002-04:00

SodaBoy got carded today... while attempting to purchase cream soda. Snerk.

That is all.

Summiting Wolf Jaws

2009-09-13T17:44:00.010-04:00

It was 8:30 on the Friday morning of Labor Day weekend when we set out from the parking lot. The beginning of the hike from the AuSable Road trailhead is utterly incongruous with virtually any ultimate destination that can be reached from there, as private lands belonging to the Adirondack Mountain Reserve/AuSable Club must be crossed to reach state land. We powered through the first 0.7 mile along the dirt road, through a golf course, past the tennis courts and clubhouse, and finally, past the beautiful “camps” of super-privileged club members.

Approaching the gatehouse, where non-members such as ourselves (i.e., hiker trash) must normally check in with the club ranger, I heard distinctive laughter. That is J, I announced to SodaBoy. J&S are friends from the Granite State, who were to be joining us at our campsite that evening, but whom we hadn‘t expected to see until after our big hike. We knew their plans for the day involved hiking with their friend Mountain Man, whom they’d stayed with the night before. We spied J in the back of a pick-up truck parked by the gatehouse. When they saw us waving, he and S jumped out, and we all exchanged hugs.

Mountain Man, whose family belongs to the club, told us to hop in the back of the truck, and they’d drop us off down the Lake Road. So our hike started with a 0.7 mile walk along one road, and then a 0.7 mile ride along another. We hopped back out of the truck along the Lake Road at the footbridge that leads to the 0.45 mile connector track, which crosses the East River Trail before terminating at the Canyon Bridge. After crossing the AuSable River, we got on the West River Trail, and followed that until the intersection with the Wedge Brook Trail at a small, but lovely cascade. By now it was 9:30 am.

The next 1.6 miles up to the first junction between Upper and Lower Wolf Jaws took 2 hours. It didn’t help that SodaBoy and I were both recovering from bad colds that had afflicted us the week before. I felt virtually normal in every regard except a lingering cough, which continued to plague me throughout the weekend and made breathing a bit more difficult than normal. But I was not to be deterred. We headed left to tackle Upper Wolf Jaw first, since it was further away, both from our location at the trail junction, and from civilization in general, meaning that it would be easier to summit Lower Wolf Jaw another day if we couldn’t make both as planned.

We quickly reached the Wolf Jaws col and the junction with the Range Trail, with official DEC signs indicating that it was 0.9 miles to the summit of UWJ, and 0.5 miles to the summit of LWJ. It was on that section of the popular Range Trail where we met our first other hikers since leaving the West River Trail, passing two parties headed out after several days in the backcountry.

the Wolf's Tooth false summit, photo by SodaBoy
Moving forward, we gained the height of the false summit (a tooth in the Wolf’s Jaw). I was fully expecting this extra bump from reading trail guides and trip reports in advance, but even so, was a bit surprised by the size. Climbing up, it looked almost as big as either Wolf Jaw. Past that, the trail dipped down 100 feet or so, and then made the final summit approach.

Upon arrival, we had the summit to ourselves. We dropped our packs, and peeled off our sodden wicking shirts and damp socks, draping them on balsam to dry in the sun. We then enjoyed our picnic lunch, sandwiches made en plein aire from whole wheat bread and slices carved from a block of extra sharp cheddar, with sides of nuts and a bit of dark chocolate. During our meal we were joined by another friendly hiker, who was traveling alone and had a fun ritual of photographing a little toy pig on each of his summits. We were also joined briefly by a man hiking with his teenaged daughter and her friend, but that group also moved along fairly quickly. We would later see both parties again on the trail to/from LWJ.

lunching atop Upper Wolf Jaw, with view of Armstrong, photo by SodaBoy
We had to pull our clothes on practically immediately due to some oppressive and unfamiliar relation of the no-see-um. It was black with a pale spot, bigger than a no-see-um (although smearing easily in the same manner) but significantly smaller than a black fly, and lacking the striking hump-backed profile of the latter. Due to my 15 years of fieldwork, I am well acquainted with many a biting insect, but these little tyrants were new to me. And the summit was the last spot I expected to be bled, as mountain breezes often keep bugs down at high elevations, even if they are bad along the trail or back at camp. Neither was true in this case: the only biting insects we encountered all weekend were on the UWJ summit. Odd.

view from UWJ, looking back over the Tooth towards LWJ, photo by SodaBoy
After finishing our trail lunch, we got out the cameras and thoroughly documented the lovely views in both directions along the range, and across the valley towards Giant and Rocky Peak Ridge. Then we packed up and headed back down the trail towards the col and the Lower Wolf Jaw ascent. The tooth of the false summit was barely noticeable on the descent (funny how that works). We were slowed only by a few rock scrambles made slippery by wetness. The trail from the col to the LWJ summit was steep, gaining virtually the same elevation in 0.5 mile that UWJ had spread over 0.9 mile, but I was powerless to resist summiting another peak for the mere additional mile of hiking.

Ascending LWJ, we passed both the Hula Pig Hiker and another solo hiker on their way back down. Both stopped for friendly chats and shared assurances that we were almost there. Hikers are just the nicest people! We didn’t stay long on the summit of LWJ, as we’d already lunched and the views are less expansive, although one ledge provided panoramic vistas including Marcy, Algonquin, and Whiteface. After shooting my full complement of desired images, I discovered that my CF card had corrupted somehow, a crushing blow since all the photos I’d taken up to the point were lost. Luckily, SodaBoy has a wonderful collection of images I can enjoy, so that tempered my loss somewhat, and I had a spare card in my pack, so quickly swapped them out and frantically re-shot my lost views.

view from Lower Wolf Jaw, note the sharp peaks of Marcy and Algonquin
The descent was uneventful, which is always good. Of course we had to walk the full return trip back, including the short Lake Road portion we’d rode through on the way in. And of course the members bus barreled past as we trudged along, belching diesel fumes and smugness into our weary faces. Back on the road through the golf course, I realized I hadn’t sat down since the summit of UWJ, and plopped down briefly on a bench to polish of the last of my water. By 6 pm, we were back to the vehicle, which was stocked with welcome fluids and sandals, thrilled with the day and our accomplishments. Total hike: 9.9 miles, 9.5 hours, 9/4/2009.

Upper Wolf Jaw - Elevation: 4185 feet, Order of Height: 29, Order of Ascension: 10; Lower Wolf Jaw - Elevation: 4175 feet, Order of Height: 30, Order of Ascension: 11.

Walking to Winslow Homer

2009-09-12T18:01:00.006-04:00

This afternoon SodaBoy and I walked over to the art building at Hometown University to see the Winslow Homer exhibit. The art is one of the great things about living in a college town; last year there was a Michelangelo exhibit to enjoy. I can't wait to see what the feature is next year.

On the Fence
The exhibit was very interesting and well-thought out. There was a large assortment of framed pages from newspapers showcasing his illustrations, a few tiles, and a small collection of of original drawings and paintings. The exhibit was arranged chronologically, providing an overview of Homer's influences and focusing on major inspirations like Houghton Farm.

Warm Afternoon
While I enjoyed the exhibit overall, I will confess a wee bit of disappointment not to see more of his Adirondack work. This is undoubtedly my own personal bias, influenced by my love of the Adirondacks, and perhaps felt even more strongly than normal, as I am still basking in the glory of being up there last weekend.

If you are in the Hometown University area, or will be here before October 11, definitely stop by to see the Winslow Homer exhibit. It's well worth the visit.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Photos courtesy of the Hometown University website, on the "press" page for the exhibit.

Silly Sign Saturday: The Tree ID Edition

2009-08-15T20:25:00.003-04:00

SodaBoy and I were hiking a few weeks ago when I spied this sign ahead down the trail. I'm always excited to see signs labeling plants.

However, closer inspection revealed this particular sign to be an exception to my rule. This tree is decidedly not an American beech (Fagus grandifolia); rather it is a red maple (Acer rubrum). It's true that young trees of both species can exhibit smooth grey bark, but any resemblance ends there. The two have many easily distinguishable features. For example, beeches have alternate ovate leaves, while maples have opposite palmate leaves. What makes this especially sad is that we were hiking in a state park. Oops.

Click here to see my earlier foray into silly signs, inspired by Murray over at Signs of the Times.

Friday Flower Blogging

2009-06-05T21:24:00.003-04:00

Eco Canteen: Stainless Steel Water Bottle

2009-05-25T18:10:00.009-04:00

A few months ago I was contacted by Trish at Eco Canteen, who offered to send me a stainless steel water bottle to review, and I eagerly accepted the mission. See, I have been a regular user of re-usable water bottles since the early-mid 90s. I don't think bottled water in the ubiquitous disposable form that is so popular now was even conceived yet, but I loved the portability of beverage on demand. I was an undergraduate at Small Green College at the time, where such practices were standard. Every incoming freshman was issued a re-usable coffee mug; students typically attached these to backpacks with carabiner clips to cart around campus.

At that time, I used the re-usable water bottles primarily for hiking and camping. I started with Nalgene, that indestructible standby. I will confess to harboring nostalgic feeling of fondness for Nalgene to this day, regardless of the whole BPA ickiness -- that came much later. In the illustration below, you can see my original Nalgene water bottle (third from the left). I don't know exactly when I got it, but I do know I drank from it 24/7 during my five week summer session in 1995 at Remote Biological Station Accessible by Boat Only.

Note: one additional water bottle is missing from this photo,
as I forgot to retrieve it from its station on my bedside table.
The larger size Nalgene water bottles fit perfectly into the front pockets of field vests, and I spent many a happy summer tromping around in the woods, drinking 2-4 quarts of water a day. The small Nalgene bottle fits perfectly into an ordinary coat pocket, and can be easily smuggled into theaters or sporting events, sparing the indignity of overpriced disposable beverage. It got so I was using re-usable water bottles constantly... not just while hiking or out and about, but while sitting on the couch or using the computer.

Eventually the growing buzz about the health hazards of BPA became too loud to ignore, and I broke down and bought a few Siggs. I like the Siggs, I really do: they come in a wide array of fun colors and patterns, and are equally as functional as my old Nalgenes. However, I retained the old bottles, BPA and all, because I simply could not afford to replace them all at once. Siggs are mighty expensive, and on a hot day in the field, I might easily drink four quarts of water. Then, from a post and discussion over at Crunchy Domestic Goddess, I learned that Sigg aluminum bottles are lined with a proprietary epoxy, and that they aren't recommended for the dishwasher. Sigh.

The offer from Eco Canteen came less than a month later, so I was ecstatic. Eco Canteen bottles are made from food-grade stainless steel: no BPA, no aluminum, no epoxy. Yes, the offer came in early February; I am terrible for just getting this review up now. However, in my defense, I thoroughly tested this bottle. It has been used in just about every capacity:

Hiking - At a county park, a state park, a state wildlife management area, an experimental forest owned by Small Green College, and mushroom hunting.

Walking - In the woods behind the house, and around Childhood Village with the parentals.

Business Travel - A four day trip out of state, and a day trip to state capital for an agency meeting.

Around the house - While computing, watching tv, reading, and gardening.

The water bottle has held up to every possible use. I love that it can safely be used in the dishwasher. I've scrutinized the water bottle for faults, but honestly came up short. I got excited once when I noticed a wet spot on the car cushion where it was resting, thinking it was leaking and I'd finally have a more balanced review. Alas, it was user error; I hadn't tightened the cap all the way. I recommend this product with no reservations about the actual water bottle. Eco Canteen sells the water bottles from their website for the very reasonable price of $9.95 each.

However, be warned: shipping and handling fees are far less reasonable. If you are only purchasing a single bottle, the shipping and handling fee is $5.95, which would still add up to a fair price compared to Sigg or other stainless bottles, except for the free insulated tote, which comes automatically with each bottle ordered, with an additional $4.95 shipping fee. Ouch. This means a $10 water bottles becomes $20 when all fees are included, and is very troublesome to me. Not because of the cost, nor because the marketing is deceptive; all the fees are clearly explained.

It is the principle of the matter.

The literature Eco Canteen sent me with the water bottle claims they are a non-profit that operates with the goal of getting as many people as possible to stop using disposable water bottles, a truly noble goal. However, any truly environmental company would have an option allowing consumers to opt out of the "free" merchandise. For example, when you donate money to The Nature Conservancy, you always have the option to decline the free gift (and if you do choose to accept the umbrella/totebag/T-shirt, it really is free -- there is no shipping charge).

The other word of caution I offer is that shipping fee is not per order, it is per bottle. Therefore, it would be completely unpractical for ordering multiple bottles, because the shipping fees would be astronomical. The empty bottles are lightweight and assessing multiple shipping fees is unwarranted and downright hostile to consumers. [Again, there is no deceptive marketing, I obtained all this information directly from their website.]

I love the Eco Canteen water bottle, but I don't love the purchase policies outlined at their website. The bottom line is I would buy from Eco Canteen if I needed a single water bottle, but not if I needed more than one. Hopefully they will realize I am the target market and implement the changes I suggested in this review.

The Taste of Spring

2009-05-11T18:03:00.012-04:00

SodaBoy and I went mushroom hunting this weekend, to a place I had collected morels last year while delineating wetlands. It is a very remote place, accessed by turning off a rural country road onto a seasonal dirt lane that looks more like an ATV trail. Of course we saw wildflowers:

Canada violet, Viola canadensis
However, I stepped out of character and didn't photograph many. The blackflies were just too damn vigorous. Whenever I stopped and crouched in the shrubbery, I got bled. I knew how bad the bugs would be, from my stint there last year, so I insisted SodaBoy wear my headnet. I did fieldwork in Minnesota after all; my tolerance for such things is higher than most. He was skeptical at first but easily convinced by the swarms.

When we got to the spot where I'd collected the morels last year, we didn't find any, but kept looking. It is such a remote area I wasn't 100% sure we were in the exact same place. We kept thinking, they could be anywhere. Then we found something else, not the yellow morels I've collected in the past, but a different species of morel altogether: half free morels. Apparently these are also known affectionately as peckerheads.

I always slice morels in half before cleaning them, as it makes them easier to clean. With all the rain we've had recently, though, this batch was very fresh: only two slugs in the whole lot. The other benefit of slicing them in half is you can see inside the stem to better verify that it hollow. This is quite important, as morels should always have a hollow stem. There is a species of false morel that is superficially similar to the peckerheads, but it has cottony white fibers inside the stem (among other differences).

After I rinse morels, I always soak them for a while. This helps loosen up any dried soil or sand particles. Some people soak them in salt water, as it helps kill any remaining insects, but I rarely add much. I am afraid of over-salting and ruining the fine flavor. After their swim, I rinse the morels one last time, then pat them with a clean dish towel to soak up some of the water. I sauteed these ones with butter and garlic. While the pasta was cooking, I wilted fresh local spinach into the mushroom-garlic mix.

And for once I managed to snap a photo before we devoured them.

Woodland Sampler II

2009-04-28T21:24:00.003-04:00

roundleaf violet, Viola rotundifolia

Carolina spring beauty, Claytonia caroliniana

American toad, Bufo americana

bloodroot, Sanguinaria canadensis
amongst wild leeks, Allium tricoccum

Woodland Sampler

2009-04-20T19:24:00.003-04:00

sharp-lobed hepatica, Hepatica nobilis var. acuta

common garter snake, Thamnophis sirtalis

eastern leatherwood, Dirca palustris

trout lily, Erythronium americanum

This Town's Not Made For Walking

2009-04-09T18:18:00.004-04:00

Tonight is my last night in this hotel room in the bustling sprawl of a town named for the nearby estate of First Leader, outside of Capitol City. Not that I’ll have time to tour the mansion or the gardens, or to go into the heart of the city and see any museums or monuments. We are here for a job, and having completed it today, will spend all day tomorrow driving home.

I like traveling, and traveling for work is no exception. It gives me an opportunity to see new places, to do different things, to meet interesting people. However, if there is a drawback to business travel, it is the tiny taste, the cruel tease. I have never spent time in this area before and it certainly seems worthy of dedicated exploration. We drive by the signs, but there is no time for touring. This afternoon we finished up a little earlier than expected, and returning to the hotel, my co-worker declared his intentions for a nap before dinner. It was 65 degrees and sunny, and even though we’d been outside all day, when I walked into my dark and stuffy room, it didn’t seem right. Every cell in my body screamed to go back outside. So I decided to go for a walk.

Four miles later, I’m back to the hotel room, and feeling a little better about being here. This town is just not made for walking. The hotel is on a busy four lane road, with a constant roar of traffic. I took the first possible side street, and finding no sidewalks, turned into a residential neighborhood at the soonest opportunity, looking for lighter traffic. Many streets ended at cul-de-sacs, with fences preventing foot traffic through to adjacent neighborhoods (and no dead end signs to warn the casual passerby). Sidewalks were almost entirely lacking. Except for a friendly woman walking her small dog, I saw no other pedestrians.

As much as I long to see the sights, I wouldn’t want to live in a place where roaring automobile traffic is the only means of conveyance, where pedestrians have been entirely squeezed out. Call me crazy, but I like to walk.

'Tis the Season

2009-04-03T21:47:00.007-04:00

I disdained the umbrella on the walk to the bus stop this morning, lifting my face to the light rain, which almost felt warm. A carry over from yesterday, perhaps, for yesterday was a glorious spring day, sunny and warm and filled with birdsong. I was practically skipping along the street on my walk home, eager to change into jeans and take a walk in the woods, to pull some weeds and dried vegetation from the greening flower bed. Imagine my joy when I spied the neighbor's red maple! I've been watching that tree for weeks now, watching and waiting.

Yesterday was the day I'd been looking forward to: my first budburst observation of the season. Having tracked the phenology of this tree last year, I knew it would flower any day now, but that just heightened the suspense. When it comes to spring flowers, I'm like a kid counting down to Christmas. That makes Project Budburst so perfect for me. Whee! Someone cares about the tree I saw flowering!

Project Budburst is designed for anyone and everyone to participate. The target plants are common and easy to identify, and the site provides lots of great resources to help the novice. And you need not be surrounded by nature, as many common landscaping plants are included. Even denizens of the most urban areas likely see a lilac bush or street tree regularly. For returning budbursters, the website offers some major improvements: on the results page, you can download data reported last year, and see the 100 most recent reports mapped in real time. If you like gardening or wildflowers, or just get geeked up on little changes in your outdoor world, I encourage you to check it out. Is anyone else out there playing along?

In My Garden

2009-03-31T18:50:00.008-04:00

The big leaves are daffodils, of course, while the small leaves are garlic mustard (Alliaria petiolata). This is a weeding battle I can never win: I knock it back every growing season, but every spring is just the same -- like I never pulled a one.

Willow Sky

2009-03-22T10:26:00.015-04:00

We live in the city, but our backyard abuts a hilly urban woodlot. It is not a pristine wilderness by a long shot; portions of the area were graded for a street that was never constructed, yet is still depicted on some maps of the area. This means stripped top soils, compacted subsoils, and lots of invasive species. Still, we enjoy our little woods: it is where we walk the cats; where mayapples and wild geraniums grow; where we see the first robins of the year.

3/14/2009

I almost always carry a camera with me on these walks, even though I'll frequently return without taking any pictures or with only lackluster shots. I am working on that, taking more photos, trying to train my eye to see the beauty in the mundane. One photo I seem to shoot repeatedly, especially this time of year, is of willow branches against the sky. When I download the camera, I breeze right by the photos, never finding them terribly interesting. And yet I take the same photo over and over and over. Witness:

2/24/2008
2/1/2009
2/28/2009
It was last weekend when I really noticed this strange recurring pattern, and started trying to figure out the reason behind it. One theory I came up with dates back to my childhood. When I was 7 or 8 years old, my family had to leave a rental house we'd all loved. My parents bought a new home in a growing subdivision, the kind of place where the sum total of landscaping was one stick tree in the front yard, along with two squat bushes, one on either side of the door. Of course they immediately set about changing that, planting oak and birch and hemlock, catalpa and dogwood and spruce.

Entranced by the magical rooms the drooping branches can create, my sister and I lobbied hard for a weeping willow. We were utterly unconcerned by the fragile, messy nature of large willows, but ever practical, my parents demurred, instead opting for honey locust and cedar, crabapple and horse chestnut. Could my photographic loyalty to this same boring picture date back to my unmet youthful yearnings for a backyard willow world? I've been mulling this over for the last week, and oddly the process of analyzing the mystery has caused me to photograph the tree less -- I didn't take pictures of the tree on any of my three most recent walks (yesterday, Monday, or Tuesday).

Ultimately, I decided the appeal is almost entirely in the bright colors. Woods are generally pretty monochromatic places this time of year, with various shades of brown bark and brown mud. No greens yet, no flowers, and the lovely white snow has all melted. The potential energy in those willow branches just screams against the blue sky. Yellow! Life! Like the robin, it's another symbol of what is to come. Here's a sneak peak from last year, what we have to look forward to in just a few short weeks:

4/20/2008

Welcome, Harbinger!

2009-02-28T19:59:00.001-05:00

More Glum News

2009-02-03T19:08:00.006-05:00

We had an office-wide meeting yesterday, never a good thing in this economic climate. I had been hoping it would simply be to announce the layoffs that occurred last Friday, so folks who weren't there at the time could hear the official rendition. No such luck. Instead we learned that the company will no longer be paying for our parking expenses. Our office is downtown; there is no free parking anywhere even remotely nearby. Apparently the passes the company has been buying for us in the garage across the street cost $75/month, and if we want to continue parking there, we now have to pay ourselves.

Effective immediately.

So starting today, I'm riding the bus. I actually enjoy riding the bus, and find it much less stressful than the idea of carpooling, which I'm also contemplating. However, the bus fare is $40/month out of pocket that I wasn't spending last week. [I have fuel efficient car, and a short commute, so only use about one gallon of gas a week getting to and from work.]

And the most depressing thing? The bus company has announced plans to raise fares in the beginning of May, and to simultaneously cut back on services. Of course my route is one of those slated to be eliminated. I will still be able to catch a bus, but will have to walk much further to get to a stop, and will have to pay $60/month. I have a feeling carpooling will look a lot better come May.

Where Mayapples Grow

2009-02-01T15:57:00.001-05:00

O Happy Day!

2009-01-20T18:51:00.005-05:00

We do not have a TV in our office, and my work computer doesn't have speakers, so I had little hope for watching the inauguration. However, early this morning, one of the partners sent around an email letting everyone know she got the internets streaming to the big screen monitor in a conference room. She invited all who were interested to come and eat lunch together while watching the ceremonies. Of course, by 11:30 am when we showed up with our brown bags, all the news sites were crashed with the rush of eager viewers. We finally got a spurty feed from MSNBC to come in intermittently, and plugged in an old analog radio.

But nobody cared about the logistics... it was just so fantastic to be listening to President Obama speak, watching hope light up the faces around the table, and knowing that faces were lighting up with hope all around the world.

Just Another Day

2009-01-19T18:08:00.003-05:00

I work in the private sector, for a small business. Martin Luther King Day is one of many federal holidays not recognized by the company, so today was an ordinary work day for me. It's a long cold stretch between New Year's Day and Memorial Day, let me tell you. But that's besides the point... What I noticed today is how spooky it is working downtown on a holiday.

The only thing missing was the tumble weed. No school buses on the drive in, no traffic at all downtown, no pedestrians waiting at the crosswalks. Plus I got a spot on the third floor of the parking garage, which is practically like getting a spot on the first floor, since the bottom two levels are reserved. [I normally park on the fifth floor.] Our office was bustling as always, but we might have been the only ones in the building, the only ones on the block.

Speedy Delivery

2009-01-12T18:14:00.004-05:00

When we applied for our passports, Helpful Postal Clerk seemed surprised by how far in advance we were applying. With our trip is still many months away, there was obviously no need to pay extra for expedited processing. So it was a huge surprise when SodaBoy called me at work this afternoon with the news that our passports had arrived in the mail today, just nine days after we originally submitted our paperwork.

Apparently having my surname spelled wrong on my previous passport and using it to travel to Soviet Russia wasn't as much of a problem as I'd feared it could be. [I enrolled in Russian language classes the first year they were offered at my high school, and ended up being selected to fill the shoes of another older student who was supposed to be participating in the exchange, but couldn't go. My parents rushed me down to the state building, but my last name was missing a consonant on the first passport I was issued. We sent it back dismayed, only to have a second arrive mere days before my departure, this time with an extra vowel. What did I do? Practice signing my name wrong, of course.]

Luckily, this minor youthful discretion did not seem to cause any problems, and all names spelled correctly this time around... on my passport anyway. Unfortunately for SodaBoy, my passport curse seems to be infectious. His name and birth date are correct, but his sex is indicated as "F," and clearly that won't do. When he called me, he had already determined he has to send the passport back with a photocopy of his drivers license to show proof of gender. I couldn't resist offering another suggestion for photocopiable evidence.

And the birth certificates? They did not arrive today, but as promised, I am not panicking. Like Mom to Baby J noted in her comment, the literature indicates they will be mailed separately.

The Passport Process

2009-01-03T12:34:00.003-05:00

SodaBoy and I went to the mall yesterday evening, for what will hopefully be our last visit there for a few months at the very least. I am always happiest to avoid the place altogether. Yesterday our mission was simple: passports. Even though we both have expired passports, it has been too long for them to be considered simple renewals, and we had to start the process from scratch. We'd picked up the application forms previously, so we could have them all filled out when we arrived, and hopefully streamline the process.

However, when we sat down yesterday afternoon to do our paperwork, we discovered more information is required than we remember providing in the past. Parents birthdays were easy enough, but SodaBoy and I both stumbled a bit when it came to our parents birth places. We knew the general areas where our folks were born, but weren't certain if they were born in the small towns where they grew up, or the nearby bigger cities where the hospitals are located.

So we starting placing phone calls, and it was a few hours before we tracked down all the pertinent data. Hence the need for the trip to the mall, to get to the post office and accomplish the goal of getting the passport applications completed. See, the post office branch located at the mall has extended hours compared to all other branches in the area: it is open evenings and weekends, even Sundays. I would even go so far as to say it would seriously rock, if only it wasn't located at the dreaded mall.

The line was super long, and super slow. Several people had called in sick, stranding one sole postal clerk to staff the entire branch alone. I have decided postal workers get a bad rap. This man was practically a saint, he was so calm and patient. With his help, we accomplished our goal! The application process is complete... now we just have to wait for the passports to arrive in the mail.

The only part that was a little weird is that they kept our birth certificates, to be returned with the passports when they arrive in the mail. SodaBoy and I each only have the one copy of our birth certificates, and mine is the original, with the raised seal and real signatures. I feel vaguely bereft without it -- hopefully it will all work out, and I won't need it in the interim. To quote the hilarious Lanes123, I'm sure it's fine.

Translation: I won't start panicking for at least a month.

2008: The Year in Books

2008-12-31T21:13:00.008-05:00

Every year on New Year's Eve, I post a list of the books I've read that calendar year, and every year, the list seems to get shorter and more pathetic. I used to read way more than this and I enjoy it so damn much; seeing my slide into illiteracy actually makes me a bit sad. I need to find a way to allot myself more time to read in 2009. So I'm going to post this list, thin as it is, to keep myself honest. Here are the books I read in 2008:

Windfalls [fiction] by Jean Hegland
Remains of the Day [fiction] by Kazuo Ishiguro
The House on Mango Street [fiction] by Sandra Cisneros
Girls in Trouble [fiction] by Caroline Leavitt
Chrysalis, Maria Sibylla Merian and the Secrets of Metamorphosis [non-fiction] by Kim Todd
The Wonder Spot [fiction] by Melissa Bank
The Stand [fiction] by Stephen King
Lost Mountain [non-fiction] by Erik Reece -- See my review here, and find links to numerous other reviews over at The Blogging Bookworm.
Messenger [fiction] by Lois Lowry
In Defense of Food [non-fiction] by Michael Pollan -- I won this book from a giveaway over at Crunchy Chicken. Thanks again, Crunchy!
The Back Road to Crazy [essays] edited by Jennifer Bove
For Love [fiction] by Sue Miller
Bait and Switch : The (Futile) Pursuit of the American Dream [non-fiction] by Barbara Ehrenreich
The Road [fiction] by Cormac McCarthy
When You Are Engulfed in Flames [essays] by David Sedaris
An American Childhood [memoir] by Annie Dillard
Coming Back to Me [fiction] by Caroline Leavitt
Silence of the Songbirds [non-fiction] by Bridget Stutchbury -- I read this book based on Hugh's excellent review over at Rock Paper Lizard.
The Midwife’s Apprentice [fiction] by Karen Cushman

I highly recommend Lost Mountain for anyone looking for a captivating non-fiction read; Remains of the Day was the fiction stand-out. What about you? What were your favorites reads of 2008?

On Opting Out

2008-12-25T10:12:00.010-05:00

Every year my company hosts a minimum of two or three separate Christmas parties. There is the formal affair, which is held a few weeks beforehand, at various fancy off-site establishments, with staff from both offices. It is the one time a year when everyone meets face to face, and after two years, there are still unfamiliar faces. Then on the last day before the holiday, each office has a Secret Santa potluck.

When the sign-up sheet was posted in the kitchen last year, I casually ignored it. I am generally opposed to Secret Santa type gift swaps on environmental grounds. In my experience, people are buying for recipients they don't know very well, with spending guidelines that pretty much guarantee that everyone just trades crap that no one wants. But my boss who organizes the party is really into the fun social aspect of it, and when she came around to my desk with sign-up sheet I succumbed to the pressure.

It turns out the culture of this particular gift exchange leans even more heavily towards useless garbage than most. The gifts are supposed to be stupid, or comical, or humiliating. [An example is a whole line of "Boss Lady" toiletries someone purchased for one of the partners last year, which was all packaged in pink, but had a manly scent. Racy calendars are also a recurring theme.]

Because it was "secret," I wasn't exposed as the guilty party, but the gift I purchased, a Rishi fair trade organic tea gift set with a ceramic diffuser, was roundly dismissed as being "too nice." It must have been a new person. Luckily there were several of us new people, including my recipient, who seemed quite pleased with her gift. She came and thanked me privately later -- she figured out it was me because there aren't many of us tea drinkers there, plus the aforementioned newbie failure to buy a gag gift. The funny thing is, she had drawn my name, and bought me organic lotion and lip gloss, another gift dismissed as unworthy by the old timers.

This year I decided to opt out.

With several successful performance reviews under my belt, I figured I should have enough personal capitol and recognizable value by now to escape the obligatory gift exchange. I still brought a dish to pass and attended the party, socializing and watching co-workers open their embarrassing gifts. It was much more enjoyable for me this year without the stress of the dreaded gift exchange. As the party was wrapping up, the partners passed out merit-based bonus checks, a welcome uncertainty in these times. [My company has not been immune to this economic downturn: our health care rates will skyrocket in January, and several co-workers have been laid off or had their hours dramatically cut back.]

Most staff leave shortly after the party peters out, but I returned to my desk for another hour and a half of work, trying to wrap something up I am scheduled to work on next week. When I was leaving at 5:30 pm, the only other people left were partners. As I was putting on my coat and getting ready to leave, I went around to say goodbye and personally thank each partner.

I was in Party Organizer Boss's office when Boss Lady Recipient Partner came in with her coat to say goodbye, too. We all ended up walking out together. They started lamenting how there seemed to be less participation this year in both the Secret Santa and the potluck. Since they knew I didn't participate in the gift exchange, but the food all gets lost together on one big table, I was quick to point out in my defense that at least I brought a dish to pass. Redemption of sorts? That was my hope. Then Party Organizer Partner joked that perhaps they should tie Secret Santa participation to the bonuses.

While it was just a joke, the comment gave me pause. Obviously I know enough to keep my big mouth shut and not tell my bosses what I really think of these gift exchanges. But is that enough? Are there political consequences to opting out? What do you think? Do I have to suck it up and participate in future Secret Santas for reasons of professional development?

************************************************************************
I hope everyone has a terrific holiday season, and if you are celebrating Christmas today, that it is very Merry indeed!

Extracurriculars

2008-12-21T17:00:00.002-05:00

Since my last post, I've attended several NCAA basketball games, gone to the company Christmas party, and best of all, saw David Sedaris read at a local theater. I've already written about basketball (several times) and don't really want to get into too much detail about my job, but I haven't ever blogged about David Sedaris. The man is hysterical, and dreamy, too: I always swoon a little when I see him. He's like a rock star. So I thought I would compile a list inspired by Momma Val's Ticket Stubs post. So here they are, the various concerts and lectures I've attended:

Authors
Kurt Vonnegut
Margaret Atwood
Amy Tan
John Irving
Oliver Sacks
Michael Moore
David Sedaris

Personalities
Timothy Leary
Oliver Stone
George Carlin

Rock Concerts
Tom Petty
Phish (also, Oysterhead and the Trey Anastasio Band)
The Grateful Dead (also, the Jerry Garcia Band and Rat Dog)
Santana
The Allman Brothers
Yes
The Rolling Stones
Radiohead
Rush

All these events were highly entertaining, and I enjoyed them enormously. However, I do have regrets about missing a few... There was that Pink Floyd concert back in '94 -- I waited in line first for a bracelet, then again to buy tickets, but ultimately took a job out of state and couldn't go. REM and Neil Young are two other bands I've always wanted to see, but never had the chance.

A few regrets with the authors, too, unfortunately. Stephen Jay Gould apparently gave a lecture in my town, but I didn't find out about it until several years after the fact, so obviously did not go (and of course now will never have the opportunity). I also inexcusably missed Jane Goodall when she was here, although the venue was a graduation speech, and not a straight-up lecture or reading that would have been more to my liking. Then there are the authors I would love to see, like Michael Pollan, who never seem to come to my area.

As odd as it may sound to those who don't love books, the author lectures are a rollicking good time, and they've all been local, as opposed to the concerts. I never exactly toured with any particular band, but the list of concerts above occurred in seven different states and provinces. What about you? Seen any great events? Who do you regret missing?

Stumbling Along

2008-12-06T17:09:00.006-05:00

Sorry for my sporadic presence around bloggyland of late. November was really super busy for me. When it got about halfway through the month without me posting, I started thinking, maybe I should just take the whole month off. Sort of like the anti-NaBloPoMo. [Yeah, 'cause I'm a rebel like that.]

However, December has turned out to be just as busy around here, possibly even more so than November: all the same shit, plus the addition of the looming holiday hoopla. It's hard to get back into the swing of blogging, particularly when there is so much other stuff that needs doing. Not surprisingly, I am not feeling especially festive this year, and haven't even begun the inevitable holiday preparations.

I wanted to get a tree this weekend, because the lovely aroma of balsam always cheers me up, but that hasn't happened yet either. I did sleep late this morning, though, which I absolutely needed after a truly exhausting week. Then we went out for an inexpensive lunch at a local pizza shop that has been in business since the 1920s (SodaBoy discovered they have fantastic clam chowder), then home again for an afternoon of chores. Speaking of which, I should go check that laundry...

Maybe we'll get a tree tomorrow.

Trick-or-Treat Live Blogging

2008-10-31T19:19:00.008-04:00

I worked past 6 pm tonight so I missed the beginning, but we get a LOT of trick-or-treaters in our neighborhood. We decided to keep a tally this year. Here's what we've got so far:

6:37 62 kids*
6:59 81 kids
7:09 94 kids
7:16 114 kids
7:23 150 kids
7:48 165 kids**
8:24 173 kids

* including the heartwarming family that stopped to take photos with our Obama yard sign after collecting their candy. Awww!!
** our neighborhood is getting darker and darker as the neighbors one by one run out of candy and turn off their lights.

At Work Today

2008-10-30T21:36:00.005-04:00

I often have to rent a vehicle when traveling for work, due to the need for four wheel drive at some of our more remote field sites. I know it's still October, but I sure hope the rental car agencies start including snow brushes soon.

This is the same site where I saw the cutleaf grapefern last month. It looks a little different now, eh?

Skywatch Friday: The Black Beam

2008-10-24T11:24:00.012-04:00

I've never participated in Skywatch before, but I recently saw this weird black beam in the sky and just had to share it. My husband and I were hiking in a local park a few weeks ago. It was late afternoon and we were almost back to the car when we noticed it. We made some irreverent jokes about how someone was being smote, and decided to try photographing the incident, to see if it was "real." Two separate cameras clearly captured the beam. A dirty contrail? A shadow of a contrail? This first shot is completely un-edited.

In the shot to the right, I cranked the contrast way up so the beam would be more visible. If you look closely at the high contrast version, several more dark parallel beams become visible in the distance. Any ideas what we were seeing?

Head over to Skywatch to see more celestial photos.

The Jig Is Up

2008-10-22T18:16:00.005-04:00

As I've written about before, we don't normally turn on the heat until November. This year, we'd been planning to hold out until election day, when depending on how things turn out, we might hopefully feel a bit celebratory. Maybe a bottle of wine, maybe turn the heat up to 62? Woo-hoo!

Yeah, we really know how to party around here.

However, we've had a bit of a cold snap lately that has really put a crimp in our plans. The lows temperatures have been in the 30s every day since Friday (except when they've been in the 20s). That's six days in a row. Plus, it's been overcast the much of the last few days, with little opportunity for passive solar heating. The icing on the cake? It was snowing this morning as I drove to work.

When I got home from work, with outdoor temperatures in the 30s, SodaBoy confessed he'd run the heat for a while this afternoon. Not for long: just to get the internal temperature up to 60, and then he turned it back off. Not to worry... we'll still be participating in the Freeze Yer Buns Challenge this winter.

I'm just a bit disappointed to be starting so soon.

Weird Fishes

2008-10-13T19:16:00.000-04:00

On Riding the Bus

2008-10-08T19:02:00.005-04:00

My car was damaged by a quickie oil change facility: they cracked the oil pan, and I noticed the leak last Saturday at the farmers market. I immediately took the car back to the shop, and because it was clearly their fault, the business has agreed to install a new oil pan free of charge. I was actually surprised not to have to fight harder; I guess customer service is not entirely dead. The whole process is dragging out, though, because they have to get the check to purchase the oil pan from a regional district manager, and then order the part, and then wait for it to come in. The latest update suggests the part will arrive Saturday, and will be installed for me on Sunday.

Despite the protestations of the automotive staff that my leak was no big deal, and it would be fine to drive as long as I keep adding a quart of oil every other day (they even gave me a few quarts), I haven't been driving the car. I don't want to be spewing oil all over the city -- that stuff is nasty. I am not too happy having the oil pool up in my driveway either. I talked my way into some absorbent pads that I have placed under the car, and that helps, but it is still icky. Does anyone have any tips for how to safely clean the film off the driveway once my car stops leaking? Because there is still a bit of a sheen under the pads.

But the bus... I have been riding the city bus to and from work the last few days, and I am loving it. The stop is right around the corner from my house, and I get off one block from the office. It takes 20-25 minutes each way, slightly longer than it would were I to drive myself, but it is so much more interesting. The overheard conversations, the sociological observations, the stimulating sights, sounds, and smells. It is truly fabulous! I am so glad for this opportunity to find out how accessible and convenient the bus routes are in this neighborhood.

Although I will definitely use the bus more often even after my car repairs are complete, especially in bad weather, I may not continue to use it every day. The sad truth is the bus is more expensive for me than driving. At 2.9 miles from my driveway to the fifth floor of the parking garage, my roundtrip commute is just under 6.0 miles per day, or 30 miles per week. Using round numbers again for simplicity, my car gets about 30 mpg. This means I use approximately 1 gallon of gas per week for my roundtrip commute, a cost of about $4. Riding the bus is $1 each way, so my total expenses for a week of commuting would be $10.

Of course there is the hidden cost of wear and tear on the vehicle, extra maintenance costs and such. However, I can't see those expenses equating to $6 for 30 miles. Part of the discrepancy comes because my employer covers my parking expenses, providing us each with an entry card to a covered parking garage, a value of $90-100 per month. If I had to pay that myself, the bus would certainly be more economical. The bus service offers weekly and monthly passes, but at $10/week or $40/month, it doesn't save riders any money unless we ride more often than just commuting.

Now of course I must solve the dilemma: be cheap and drive my car, or be green and take the public transport? So many choices.

Friday Fern Blogging

2008-09-26T20:18:00.001-04:00

Botrychium dissectum, cutleaf grapefern.

A Football Quandary

2008-09-21T16:28:00.006-04:00

Yesterday I did something very un-dude: I went to a football game. To be clear, I am not generally a fan of football. I find it only slightly less boring than baseball. I never even went to a single high school football game, that all-American ritual, and had in fact only been to one previous football game in my entire life. However, SodaBoy got free tickets from a co-worker, and the venue where Hometown University plays is walkable from our house. It seemed to be a not entirely unreasonable way to spend an autumn afternoon.

Although I am to understand Hometown U has traditionally had a respectable football team, with standout history-making players, and long runs of success, the current team is widely regarded as dismal. They lost their season opener, which was supposed to be a cupcake game, to a team from a lesser division, and have lost all other games this season as well. I feel sorry for the whole franchise, the coach who will almost certainly be canned at the end of this season, and especially the kids who work so hard in practice every day.

But yesterday HU won! It was to another "lesser" program, but given the downward spiral of the last few years, such victories cannot be taken for granted. Attendance has dropped significantly. There were only maybe 30,000 guests in the 50,000 seat venue, which wasn't such a bad thing for our personal comfort. We had plenty of room to stretch out, instead of being crammed in, like at basketball games, our shoulders pressed awkwardly against those of neighboring fans. At one point, part of the marching band filed into the empty seats behind us, and stayed for the entire third quarter, blasting out little bursts of noisy pep at every possible lull in the action. Deafening, but definitely entertaining.

In my opinion, the main drawback to an early season sporting event at this venue is the beverage situation: outside drinks are not allowed. As I mentioned, we regularly attend basketball games at the same venue. However, the climate in my area is such that during basketball season, we are always bundled up in bulky outerwear, and it is easy to smuggle in a reusable water bottle (me) or a can or two of soda (SodaBoy). Another family friend has been known to bring his own beer. Yesterday, with the temperatures in the mid-70s, and both of us wearing t-shirts, bringing our own drinks was not an option.

We made it through the first quarter sans refreshment, but then SodaBoy broke down and hit a concession stand. Football games are interminable, after all, and we had walked there, perhaps a 20 or 25 minute walk in the sun. There was thirst to be quenched. I still felt pretty bad about the disposable water bottle though. So bad that I carried it with me all the way home so that I could recycle it. [Full disclosure: there are recycling containers available at the Hometown U sporting facility, but I did not pass any on the way to the exit.] I also picked up and carried home another empty water bottle that had been discarded along the sidewalk.

Does anyone have any advice for avoiding disposables in such a situation?

A Kimchi Free Coincidence

2008-09-18T20:48:00.005-04:00

SodaBoy and I went out to eat this evening, a very rare occurrence on a week night, but it just seemed right. We had initially been planning to go to a chain restaurant with a yummy salad bar. However, at the last minute, we decided on the Korean steakhouse instead. We often drive by the place and always talk about going there, but had never quite gotten around to it. SodaBoy had never been there before, and I had only once, about a year and a half ago. My one previous trip had been at lunch, with a few work friends I was just getting to know, including S. and L.

Shortly after we placed our order for bento boxes, S. and her husband came in and were seated at the table right next to us. It was the strangest thing--she hadn't been there in over a year either, and also rarely eats out on weeknights. We don't live in the same neighborhood, and there are literally hundreds of restaurants we could have chosen instead (and almost did). How in the world did we wind up there at the same time?

The bento boxes contain small portions of lots of different things, so even though they are a bit pricey, SodaBoy and I both ended up ordering them. It made deciding what to get a little easier--everything sounded so good. Although I could have lived without the greasy tempura, the rest of the food was delicious.

I was a little disappointed not to get any kimchi though. It seems like something we should have tried, something that would be in a bento box for newbies like us to sample. Next time I'll have to make a special point to order some.

Gardening at Night

2008-09-08T21:53:00.005-04:00

Was Michael Stipe talking about what happens when you work past dark, but still want fresh tomatoes in your salad? Somehow I think not, but when SodaBoy came out to the garden with me to hold the flashlight while I did my harvesting, we couldn't help but sing along.

Tasty Thanks

2008-09-06T21:09:00.002-04:00

Despite my weekend of camping and the Monday holiday, this was a rough week (a rough few weeks, actually). I had a big deadline at work, which coupled with an extremely difficult client, has resulted in me working some very long hours. Last night, my boss and I were both at the office until 10 pm. We expect to have a few more days of scrambling early next week, but are hopeful things will calm down after that.

I was starting to get discouraged for a while, but light at the end of the tunnel is always a nice thing. Another thing that helps is knowing my Herculean efforts are not being taken for granted. When he was thanking me last night for all my hard work, my boss told me that he wanted me to take my husband out for a fancy dinner this weekend, and submit the receipt with my expense report on Monday.

So I had a lazy relaxing day today, a trip to the farmers market and several hours of reading on the porch. Then SodaBoy and I went out for our fancy dinner. We decided on a French restaurant we'd long been wanting to try. The food was delightful, but the prices were obscene. We won't likely return any time soon--I have never in my life seen such a high bill for dinner for two. I am not going to feel too badly though. My boss did use the word "fancy", exactly three times, and I definitely earned it. Plus, I gotta follow my marching orders!

Beaver Meadow Falls

2008-09-01T20:41:00.008-04:00

SodaBoy and I spent our Labor Day weekend as we often do, camping in the Adirondacks. We hiked, canoed, and took in many a glorious vista. Beaver Meadow Falls was an unexpected bit of scenery.

Biking to Michelangelo

2008-08-24T18:08:00.014-04:00

We live near the Hometown University campus, so when SodaBoy and I discovered there was an exhibit featuring Michelangelo originals on display at the art building, we were thrilled. Yesterday was the first available non-work day, so we took advantage of the nice weather, and biked over. Biking to an art exhibit was a fun new experience.

The exhibit was pretty awesome. It was all simple stuff, drawings and writings, no splashy paintings or sculptures. Still, it was pretty incredible to see these objects preserved, pieces of paper that are, in some cases, nearly 500 years old. There were sketches and studies from famous works, made all the more interesting because you could see where erasures and re-drawings had been made. I found the sketch for theThe Sacrifice of Isaac to be particularly compelling.

Note: Cameras had to be checked at the entrance, so this second photograph is not mine. I downloaded it from the Hometown University website, on the "press" page for the exhibit.

Tuesday Night is Clam Night

2008-08-19T20:40:00.003-04:00

We've started a new summer time ritual around here: Tuesday night is clam night. The process starts with SodaBoy taking a short drive to the seafood market, a specialty shop that has all kinds of great stuff and supports the local NPR station. The clams aren't displayed in the coolers with the fish, but a simple inquiry revealed they have succulent clams hidden in the back room, two dozen for under $12. We don't live in an coastal region, but are within a day's easy drive, and seafood from the specialty shop is always delightful fresh.

We steam the clams. We eat them right in the kitchen, standing round the stove top, dipping them in bubbling butter that swims with chives from the garden, sipping white wine after every clam. The air is filled with the sounds of mmmmms and ummms; the stove and counter tops become dappled with butter drips. It is so damn good no one cares.

Then we take a brief intermission, and I take the local new potatoes off the steamer, and dump the leftover chive butter over them, and top the concoction with fresh, local parsley. The second course of potatoes is accompanied by local sweet corn and more wine, and is eaten at the dining room table, while music plays. I am not normally a big drinker, but this Tuesday night ritual just might convert me. The meal is so simple, so buttery, and so good.

The Old and the New

2008-08-16T21:16:00.005-04:00

We went to an antique festival today. It was only the second such event I have attended, and just like last time, I walked away a bit confused. About two-thirds of the stuff was junk to my eyes, looking like someone cleaned out their basement, and decided to sell all their garbage at obscenely high prices. The remainder of the stuff was gorgeous, so nice that I won't say overpriced, even though the prices were mind-boggling. There was amazing hand-made furniture, spectacular stained glass, and some old muskets that caught SodaBoy's eye.

There were also beautiful, museum quality paintings from the 1800s, available for the bargain price of $60,000. They really were very nice paintings. As we browsed in awe, enjoying them vicariously (never for a fleeting moment even considering a purchase), the proprietor kept telling us to let him know if we saw one we liked, and he would cut us a really good deal. Very nice and all, but I suspect "a really good deal" on a $60,000 painting would still be light years beyond our budget.

In some ways, the pricing contrasts make shopping at such events more fun, if a bit draining. Finding something you like or need at a reasonable price can be a real challenge. We didn't buy much, but our few vintages purchases were well earned in mileage, at least. We hoofed that festival from end to end.

One other interesting bit of contrast was evident in the landscape. Location, location, location. This particular antique fair is a big event, held at the same spot every year. SodaBoy had been once a few years ago with his parents, and always wanted to go back with me. In the meantime, a new wind farm was built in the rolling hills just north of the festival grounds. It was delightful to be engaged in a celebration of the old while dancing in the shadow of the new.

Click on the photo to see the wind turbines on the hills above the Antique Fest.

Progress

2008-07-23T20:17:00.003-04:00

Our first few tomatoes are ripening up beautifully. These are sun sugar, a super sweet orange variety I got hooked on at the farmers market last summer. These tomato plants are doing much better than the other variety I planted, a husky red. The poor husky admittedly had the disadvantage of going in the ground much later, and was then partially crushed due to a tragic accident involving a foot--it is just so tiny compared to the the sun sugars that it was overlooked. Poor thing. Several of the sun sugars are taller than me now. Assuming these first few teasers last that long, I'll toss them into our salads at dinner tomorrow night. I can't guarantee they'll make it in the house though.

The Swimming Hole

2008-07-15T21:17:00.003-04:00

We spent much of our time in the White Mountain State in this creek, either canoeing or just bobbing around in this swimming hole, which is located in the backyard of friends of our friends (fast becoming friends in their own right). We saw the swimming hole when we visited last fall, but didn't truly appreciate its glory without a few dunks. It is mind boggling that a swimming hole of such splendor could be in a backyard; if I lived there, I might never leave. It was perfectly storybook. We also attended a rock concert, ate soft shell lobster with our hands, drank wine, and stayed up late every night, watching the stars and talking all kinds of silliness. It was a great weekend.

The Great Escape

2008-07-14T12:24:00.011-04:00

SodaBoy and I are cat people--we have always had cats. We easily make friends with unknown kitties, sometimes surprising their human companions, who had expected their shy cat to hide from our intruding presence. We make friends with cats wherever we travel. I still remember the names of cats we befriended on a vacation to California in 1999 or 2000: Peppermint in Scotia, and Seymour in Port Costa; I can't remember what year we took the trip, but I clearly recall the names of the kitties.

One convenience of cats as pets versus dogs is their independence. Certainly when taking "real" trips, like the one to California, arrangements must be made. For that trip, Meshoe stayed with my grandmother. On other trips, our friend P. stayed at the apartment, looking after Meshoe and Elijah both. But for weekend jaunts, our cats have always been able to fend for themselves with little more than a fresh litter box, bowls heaped with dry food, and a multitude of water bowls perchance one should be spilled.

However, with Rhea and Reemsy, things have been different. Initially it was their tiny helplessness that caused us to dump them on my parents for a long weekend of camping, their need for constant medication. Even after they shook off the parasites and accompanying meds, there were issues with Rhea eating properly. She tricked us for a while, crunching away and appearing to eat the dry food, but when you got up close and watched her, most of it was falling right back out of her mouth. We had to start feeding her canned food, and of course you can't set out big bowls of that and take off for the weekend, so our friend M. came and stayed at the house when we visited SodaBoy's parents at Thanksgiving.

Since then, I have transitioned away from canned food (ugh) and I put warm water in dry food to make it easier for Rhea to eat. She loves the gravy train, but it does nothing for the goal of regaining our weekend independence, since someone has to be here to moisten it for her twice a day. SodaBoy insists she is eating dry dry food now, as snacks in between squishified helpings. So for our trip this past weekend, we thought perhaps we could get away with asking my sister to drop in a few times and dole out some soft food for Rhea just in case. Rhea and the eating situation turned out just fine.

It was Beemsy who caused the problem. I had closed all the windows in the house, for security and in case of rain, except one upstairs that the cats love to sit in and sniff the breeze. Sis came Thursday after work and all was well. When she returned Friday evening, however, there was only one cat. Beemsy had vanished. Sis tore the house apart looking for the cat, to no avail. She finally discovered the screen had been torn out in that one open window. Beemsy had literally jumped ship.

We have no cell phones, so enjoyed our weekend with no knowledge of the missing cat. When we arrived home, we immediately noticed the lack of the Beems, and quickly figured out she had escaped by the bowls of food and water placed on the screened in back porch. Beemsy returned to SodaBoy's worried whistle within fifteen minutes, a little wilder perhaps, but unharmed.

But my poor sister! I feel terrible about the worry she went through, she and the friend who stayed at Thanksgiving both, as M. was enlisted in a fruitless search party on Saturday. After the trauma, I am not sure I could ever ask either of them to look after our silly cats again. Obviously I learned never to leave a window open in our absence, but nothing else good came from the great escape.

These cats are trouble.

The Granite State

2008-07-10T13:08:00.002-04:00

We'll be spending a long weekend in the Granite State, visiting dear old friends and attending a Rush concert. We're departing a bit late, but that always seems to happen. Too much to do. I should remember to take a day off to be at home before heading out of town. There's always next time...

Calling All Readers

2008-07-08T22:53:00.010-04:00

Just a quick public service announcement: my review of Lost Mountain is being featured as a guest post over at The Blogging Bookworm. This is a fantastic new site, a collaborative project born out of Green Bean's Be a Bookworm Challenge. Posts include information about treading lighter, green book giveaways, and best of all, tons of links to reviews of green books.

It's a great place to find your next read. Go now! Check it out!

I Heart Mulch

2008-07-07T21:13:00.004-04:00

One of the things I did with my holiday weekend was get more mulch. That stuff is addictive, I swear. I had just put one of my tomato plants into the ground recently, and it just looked so sad and naked amongst all the other plants happily nestled in their mulch. Plus whenever I watered it, most of the water ran off in various directions and didn't make it to the roots. It was definitely time for more mulch.

I decided I would combine several errands. So I popped open the hatch, put down the back seat, and loaded up the two blue bins and shovel. Then I layered in the soda containers until there was no sign of the recycling containers, and barely a reflection in the rear view mirror over all the cans. My husband is down with many a green practice, but giving up his beloved soda is not a thought he would begin to entertain. In SodaBoy's world, there might be no bigger blasphemy.

So the containers pile up in the garage, drifting into corners until they start swallowing up entire bags of potting soil. I have a pretty high tolerance for such things, but every so often I'll get sick of looking at the mountains of containers, and make such a purge. [This is not simply an issue of too much space--when we lived in a walk up apartment, our elderly upstairs neighbor never used the back stairs, and we would build up huge collections there, as well.]

Now that I am blogging about the joy of returnables, I can compete with myself. The 679 containers I returned in January? Psht!! Saturday afternoon, I returned 826. Yeah, that's right... jealous? Seriously, I rock. And then I stopped on the way home and got my mulch. The only problem with my bottle runs is that they burn me out. That Christmas cactus never got re-potted, and when I got home with the mulch, I was too tired to spread it. I thought I would simply do it yesterday, but by then, the cursed foul heat had sank back over the lands, further draining my energy.

I spent the hottest part of the afternoon holed up reading In Defense of Food, then went out to do some yard work in the evening. Of course, I couldn't spread my mulch without weeding first, and then I got thinking it was about time to use the new bow saw I got for my birthday, and an hour and a half and much sweat later, I had only dispensed with half the mulch. But I had cut out a few volunteer trees from my vegetable garden, and that means more sun for the tomatoes and basil. Plus when the heat breaks, I'll have that extra bin of mulch just waiting for me. Hooray!

Friday Flower Blogging

2008-07-04T11:06:00.002-04:00

Torch Lily (Kniphofia sp.)

Lost Mountain: a Book Review

2008-06-29T21:25:00.010-04:00

Green Bean has been running an ongoing challenge for the last two months, asking bloggers to read ecologically relevant books. I missed the first month, but signed up for June. I read Lost Mountain by Eric Reece. The subtitle pretty much says it all: A Year in the Vanishing Wilderness; Radical Strip Mining and the Devastation of Appalachia. This is a terrible and wonderful book, simultaneously fascinating and horribly guilt inducing, one of the most depressing books I have ever read. It is well written and fast paced, a nightmare of outrageous proportions. Everyone should read this book.

In September 2003, Erik Reece hiked the ironically named Lost Mountain, shortly after the state of Kentucky issued a permit for its destruction, but before the miners showed up. He documented the natural beauty: the sassafras, the warblers, the liverworts. For the next year, he returned to Lost Mountain repeatedly, trespassing at no small personal risk, to document the unnatural horrors of strip mining, and the changes wrought upon the lands and waters. The meat of the book is organized in monthly sections, where the author chronicles his ongoing observations. The frontispiece to each section is the same, a photograph taken before Lost Mountain was mined, showing misty mountain wilderness. When you turn the page to begin each new section, you are confronted with an image taken that month, showing the changes. Before, after; before, after; each successive "after" is more and more horrifying.

Interspersed amongst the observations of natural destruction, Erik Reece documents the human side of this tragedy, the social ramifications Big Coal has on rural communities. He attends public meetings, and visits local educators, clergy, and families. A local activist takes him on a disturbing tour of her town, pointing out home after home where, "everyone in that house died of cancer."

He also speaks with state regulators and representatives from the coal industry, and sheds some light on the politics of coal. It is a dirty, bloody business. Corruption and cronyism seem to rule Kentucky. There might be environmental protection laws on the books, but there is no enforcement. Regulators who try to do their jobs are forced out of office, or worse. In December 2003, on the same day the author sneaks past the iron gates on Lost Mountain for one of many documentary hikes, a state surface mine inspector died after being found beaten and unconscious in his own home, his body mutilated by human bite marks. Big Coal does not take kindly to resistance.

This may not be a pleasant book, but it is necessary. We need to educate ourselves about where our energy comes from, so we can demand better. As I suspected, "clean coal" is not the answer. Not that coal mining can't be done in a more responsible, more ethical way; it can, and the author documents that as well, describing the methods and practices that don't poison the water, where native plants will grow again. It can be done, but it is not.

This leads me to my only small quibble with the book. There is a conclusion section at the end, which contain some great information and tries to provide hope--this is where the author describes reclamation done right. In my opinion, it is still the weakest chapter in the book. To be perfectly honest, I don't like the conclusion chapter because Erik Reece uses it to take what I see as a cheap shot at science. It's that same old, tired humanities vs. science argument, "Science without compassion, science without ethics, has given us the modern war machine, the industrial farm, the dead zone in the Gulf of Mexico, the strip mine." Dude... oversimplify much? It's not science that gave us those things, it is greed, it is the market, it is simple ignorance.

I accept my share of the blame: I am ignorant and I am complicit. Due to an abundance of hydropower and nuclear power, only 18% of the electricity in my state comes from coal. But I use electricity, and my utility buys coal. In reading this book, I became a little less ignorant, and a lot more motivated.

Back at our old apartment, we paid a little extra for green power, a mix of wind energy and small hydro. When we bought this house, it was one of the details that got lost in the shuffle of moving, and we ended up with the default conventional power. Reading Lost Mountain inspired me to pull out the utility bill hanging file, and re-enroll in green power. It will cost a few extra pennies per kilowatt, but it will ease my conscious, make me feel less complicit. I no longer support Big Coal.

The No Spray Experiment

2008-06-22T20:02:00.007-04:00

My family often gets together this time of year to go strawberry picking. Dad was out of town last weekend, and we missed the start of the season waiting for his return. However, from conversations with growers during my frequent trips to the farmers markets, I knew that berries would still be available for the picking this weekend. Since the start of the local strawberry season, I have purchased four quarts from the two farmers markets I frequent, from three separate vendors.

The one farmer who got my repeat business uses no sprays. Her berries are not organic, as she uses conventional fertilizers, but she applies no herbicides or pesticides. And since there are no organic strawberries available for pick your own in my county, I suggested to my folks this morning that we try picking at the No Spray Farm. [There is an organic farm one county over, but I knew I'd never convince my folks to drive 40 miles--they are trying to be green, too.] They agreed it was worth investigating.

Picking at the No Spray Farm was a completely different experience from the larger, more traditional farms we have gone to in past years. The photo below, showing my family hard at work, was shot in the strawberry field. There were no obvious rows, rather the berries were scattered haphazardly amongst the towering weeds. Wildflowers were blooming and butterflies were flitting. Idyllic as it sounds, it was hard work. The berries were small, and much harder to find than in a typical field with tidy rows.

Furthermore, the vast majority of the fruit was ripe, but had not developed fully, with a rock-hard cluster of seeds on the bottom that are impossible to chew, and dramatically slow down the post-picking cleaning and chopping. [The seed pockets are so hard that attempting to cut through them often crushes the entire berry.] I simply avoided picking those berries, but it took a long time to get my two quarts. My family was not so patient, picking the seedy berries and whining about the time it took to find them. Step-mom announced she wants to go back to the sprayed fields next year.

The strawberry shortcake we made back at the parental house tasted just as good as any I've had from traditionally grown berries. In fact, to my tastes, it was a little sweeter simply from the knowledge that no pesticides or herbicides were used. Unfortunately, to the rest of my family, the no spray experiment was a big failure.

Curses, Foiled Again

2008-06-16T19:50:00.004-04:00

Our city collects yard waste monthly in the summertime, and again after the Christmas holiday. The leaves, branches, and grass clippings are chipped and blended to make mulch, which is available for free pick-up. The only two cars I have ever owned have both been subcompacts, and I never figured out how to take advantage of the free mulch before--except the time last year when a neighbor took down a tree and chipped it, putting a "free" sign atop the mound in the side yard. Then I just walked down the street with my wheelbarrow. Oh, the memories!

This year, I got inspired. Why not use my county issued recycling bins? They don't transport a lot of mulch, but both fit in my car at the same time, and that's a big advantage. Unfortunately I timed my brief spurt of brilliance with an ongoing wave of storms. I did manage to get the marigolds planted (in front of the astilbes) and the first bin of mulch spread before the storms blew in. I thought I might put the rest on my tomatoes this evening after work, but we've had a line of storms passing through all day, complete with hail and tornado warnings. Purple on the radar! We don't get that often.

The mulch is going to have to wait another day. I doubt I could lift the water laden mulch bin now anyway.

The Kinksy Winksy Machine

2008-06-14T17:27:00.005-04:00

pencil drawing by SodaBoy

...

Blah, Blah, Blah

2008-06-12T20:27:00.010-04:00

I haven't sat down and blogged in so long I think I forgot how. Blank screen, blank brain. Duh. Maybe I should try bullets?

Part of my problem was that pesky heat wave. I don't operate well in that heat. We don't have any AC, and I don't sleep at night, and my brain stops working.

I have got two decent nights of sleep now, since the heat wave broke on Tuesday, but I am still feeling foggy, like I am operating on a deficit.

The cats were terribly depressed about the weather as well. We restricted their access to the outdoors and that makes them miserable, but when we'd let them out, they quickly realized how lame it was, and want to come back in.

I think I am still so obsessed about the damn heat because it is supposed to be 90 again tomorrow. Woe is me. Sorry... I'll stop now.

Moving right along, we met with a contractor this evening to get an estimate on having our siding replaced. He'll be getting back to us.

It was really nice that he even showed up. So far we've had four separate contractors either reschedule or just plain not show up. Do they think blowing us off will make us trust them? Or do they just not like money? I just don't get it. Seems like a bad way to run a business, eh?

Luckily, this guy was the third to show up, so when we get the estimates back, we'll have some choices.

The funny thing is, when we were out walking around and talking to the contractor guy, one of his competitors who already rescheduled once called back and left a message. He can't remember if he was supposed to come on Sunday or Monday. I'm sort of leaning towards don't bother.

Anyone have any good information or advice about siding to share? Things to look for, things to avoid, questions to ask, anything?

I'm really loving the farmers market again this year. I found a new pasta vendor, he makes ravioli from scratch, hand stuffing them. They are amazing. I bought three different kinds on Saturday and they were all gone by Tuesday. I can't even decide which flavor I like best.

Fresh strawberries are another reason to love the farmers market. They are an entirely different creature from the odorless styrofoam-like supermarket varieties. I'm hoping to get out and pick some myself this weekend.

I might not normally publish a post like this, but today I will, in interest of maintaining the blog and all. I'm glad that you all seemed to survive the heat wave with a few more brain cells left than me.

Joining the Worm Club

2008-06-03T20:19:00.008-04:00

I first read about Green Bean's May Be a Bookworm Challenge from Nadine over at In Blue Ink. The challenge was to read one ecologically relevant book during the month of May. I love books, and ecological books are right up my alley, but I had just started the 1990 unabridged/expanded version of Stephen King's The Stand, which clocks in at roughly 1200 pages, and I didn't think it would be right to sign up for a challenge I likely couldn't meet. I am not a big Stephen King reader in general, having only read two of his previous novels, but am a fan of apocalyptic literature, so there you go.

One could probably make the argument that post-apocalyptic stories are ecologically relevant, as they imagine futures we could very well end up with, if we don't make some pretty major changes. However, having just discovered Green Bean's blog, I wanted to respect the intent of the challenge.

Plus there are so many great books to choose from!

I finished The Stand last week, and this weekend starting reading Lost Mountain by Erik Reece. I have been wanting to read this book for a while to learn more about the evils of coal. I am so sick of hearing the greenwashing about "clean coal." How, I wonder, can coal be called clean when entire mountains are destroyed just to extract the stuff? I don't care how you burn it, destroying mountains and valleys is NOT clean. So I decided I needed to learn more about coal, and picked this book as a good starting point.

Imagine my pleasure to discover that Green Bean has extended the reading challenge through the month of June. And this time, when stumbling on the challenge a few days late, I actually happen to be reading a qualifying book? Good times. I'll let you all know how Lost Mountain turns out. Hint: it's not looking good for this mountain.

Woodsy Recap

2008-05-30T20:54:00.007-04:00

I got back late last night from another trip out of town, too tired and hungry and covered with bug slime to do much but eat dinner and shower and collapse. I probably hiked 10 miles or more yesterday, and delineated eight wetlands, taking turns carrying the backpack GPS unit, then rode an hour and a half back to the park and ride lot where I'd left my car. A solid 13-hour day, which might sound bad, but it's not really. Thirteen hours in the office would slay me, but fieldwork? It's a lot like getting paid to hike.

One particularly rewarding thing about the last few weeks is that I've been returning to the same general area, watching the phenology progress. The buds I saw last week on the blue bead-lily, Canada mayflower, and sarsaparilla have burst, and they are flowering for the first time this week. The leaves on the ephemerals, such as trout lily and squirrel corn, are turning yellow and beginning to wither. June is nearly upon us... if I hadn't just listed the evidence, I might not believe it. Time is really flying lately.

Day Tripping: A Garden Photolog

2008-05-26T21:16:00.005-04:00

SodaBoy and I took a photographic expedition yesterday to a state historic park, which contains the mansion and grounds of a late 1800s philanthropist. The grounds are extensive, the gardens both numerous and lovely, and the particular philanthropist near and dear to me, since she donated the land for a favorite state park, the one closest to my home. There were greenhouses

filled with lovely orchids

and lushly verdant growth.

There were magnificent roof lines, complete with fairy tale chimneys,

and ample statuary.

And while it wasn't in the tourist brochure, and we may have been the only ones admiring it, we also saw this totally awesome lace wing. (I think it's a lace wing, anyway. Any entomologists out there?)

The return trip featured a stop to eat dinner outside, on a patio overlooking a lovely Digit Lake. It was grand, I tell you, simply grand.

Friday Flower Blogging

2008-05-23T21:37:00.002-04:00

wild geranium (Geranium maculatum)

Fringe Benefits

2008-05-19T20:14:00.005-04:00

This line of work may not pay much, but there are some definite perks. I wasn't terribly thrilled to be going out at 7 am this morning, to give a tour of invasive plant species. It was drizzling, with temperatures hovering around 40 degrees. The dread in such situations is always worse than the reality; I do have decent gear, and properly layered I was neither cold nor wet. Plus I'd already decided that since it was a local site with such an early start, I'd return home afterwards and shower before heading into the office. This worked out well, allowing me to safely remove a deer tick before it got too attached.

It also allowed me to bring home and wash up these morels. First I rinsed off the dirt, then while I showered, I let them soak to be sure to get all the crud out of the folds. Patted them dryish, then threw them in the fridge, and headed off to work. They made a delightful side dish with the veggie pizza SodaBoy cooked for dinner. I sauteed them in butter with a clove of garlic and a few splashes of white wine, throwing in some fresh spinach to wilt shortly before serving. There are no photos in situ, due to the rain, and no photos of the final dish, due to the hunger.

You'll just have to take my word for it: these babies were tasty.

Friday Cat Blogging

2008-05-16T19:17:00.002-04:00

Laptop Advice, Please

2008-05-14T19:53:00.003-04:00

Field season is back in swing, and I have been traveling for work several days a week, staying in hotels across the region. Last year, this meant I would be out of touch with friends and family for days on end (not to mention apart from bloggyland). My Mom lives out of state, and we email regularly. This past Christmas, she got got me a laptop, no doubt in part so we could could stay in touch while I am traveling. I thought that would solve the incommunicado issue once and for all.

However, it hasn't really panned out like that, at least not consistently. I took the laptop with me out of state for several nights, and got online in my hotel with no problems. But that was doing visual fieldwork, driving around taking pictures all day. I never had to leave the laptop locked up in the vehicle, because I was always either in the car myself, or in the hotel. However, the majority of my fieldwork is environmental in nature. Basically, I park the vehicle on the side of the road and hoof off into the woods or fields, often not returning for many hours.

I am afraid to leave the laptop in the car because I worry the extreme temperatures would be bad for the computer. That means during weeks like this, I'm back to being out of touch a lot. Monday morning a co-worker and I drove out to a field site, and it was nearly 8 pm before we checked into our hotel. Then we checked out first thing in the morning, and headed back out to the woods for another full day. Had I brought the laptop, it would have to be locked in the hot vehicle for two days straight. This scenario will repeat itself exactly tomorrow and Friday.

My fear is not based on any knowledge, just instinct. I won't leave my camera in the car to bake in the sun either. Extreme heat doesn't seem like it would mix well with electronica. Can anyone debunk this theory for me? Offer any advice? My laptop is new and shiny and I like it a lot; I don't want to destroy it. On the other hand, if a car hot enough to kill the hordes of black flies is harmless to a computer, maybe I should bring it along.

Lilac Quandary

2008-05-05T20:03:00.007-04:00

I haven't been reporting all of my Project Budburst phenological observations here, as I know everyone does not share my botanical obsessions, but the lilacs are pretty enough to warrant a photo. Despite the lovely and rather unusual hue, our lilac bush doesn't seem too terribly thrilled. As you can see, there are just a few blossoms in the cluster open, and we never get more than three or four racemes worth of flowers. Other lilacs in my neighborhood are just laden, sagging under the weight of their own fertility. Perhaps my backyard simply doesn't get enough sun? I don't know, but I enjoy them all the same.

I have another lilac quandary to ask you all about. I took an unusual route home from work today, detouring through the old neighborhood to pick up catfish burritos for our anniversary dinner. The lilacs in Stormwater Park are in full bloom, but I was horrified to see a woman boldly cutting a herself a bouquet in a broad daylight. I was so enraged I almost stopped to confront her, but then I started to wonder if that would be justified. See... on occasion it has come to my attention that a truth I thought was gospel is not widely held. For example, I was brought up indoctrinated that turning around in a private driveway is rude, that one should always use a public roadway. I have since learned from SodaBoy, friends, and co-workers alike that no one else but my family, apparently, subscribes to that particular theory.

So back to the lilacs in the park... Stormwater Park is a city park, paid for with taxpayer dollars, for the public to enjoy. I view those lilacs as being there for the public benefit; I see cutting them for private use as downright thievery. However, I doubt the woman doing the cutting sees it that way, as she wasn't being the least bit furtive. She probably also views the lilacs as a public resource, there for anyone to take and enjoy as they please. Does that old park mantra, take only photographs, leave only footprints only apply to national parks? Or should state and county parks enjoy the same protections? Or is it only natural areas that deserve respect, leaving my humble city park free for the hacking? What do you think?

I'm a Winner!

2008-05-03T17:25:00.009-04:00

All week long, Crunchy Chicken has been hosting a series of green book giveaways. Being the book whore that I am, I greedily entered each separate contest. [Except the Green Chic giveaway, because I am so far from chic, the concept doesn't even appeal to me--no doubt a sour grapes coping mechanism from the uber dorkiness of my childhood.] Crunchy has hosted book clubs for several of these books, and although I wasn't participating, I read her reviews and the ensuing discussions with much interest. They all sound like really great books.

Crunchy announced the winners today, and I am the lucky winner of Michael Pollan's latest book, In Defense of Food. I am so excited! I very rarely enter giveaways or contests, but as I mentioned, I have a serious weakness for books. I have read several of Michael Pollan's earlier books, and loved them. I am definitely interested in eating healthy, nutritious foods, and have been eagerly anticipating the paperback release of this book. Crunchy, thank you! You have spared me the wait.

And if you missed this round of giveaways, don't despair. Crunchy has already announced plans for another green book giveaway later this month. Like many of us, Crunchy is trying to reduce her impact on the environment. Despite being utterly sincere about changing her life and inspiring readers to do the same, Crunchy keeps things fun. It's definitely good stuff.

If you haven't visited her blog, go check it out.

New County Record

2008-04-27T19:53:00.004-04:00

On numerous occasions, I have walked past a few diminutive specimens of this plant growing in the woods behind my house. Never seeing it in flower, I didn't take particular note, just assuming it was a stunted holly. Had I been paying closer attention, the compound leaves would have been a dead give away. However, in my defense, the plants in question are all very small, with just one leaf, and well off the trails I typically follow.

Today SodaBoy and I walked up to the quarry, and hiked the rim trail all the way around. We stopped for a break at the highest point of the cliffs on the northeast end. Growing not far off the trail, I saw these pretty little yellow flowers:

It turns out the plant is not a holly, but Mahonia aquifolium (also known as Berberis aquifolium). Native to the Pacific northwest, holly-leaved barberry is the state flower of Oregon, and is also known by the common name of Oregon-grape. The plant is collected from the wild for medicinal use, harvested to the point where there is some concern over the long-term viability of the species in its native range. It is also used in landscaping and is known to be adventive, especially in the east, where it is not native.

The species is not documented from my county, and in fact, is only known from one county in my state, quite a long distance from here. The population I saw today was small enough that were this a native plant, I absolutely would not collect a voucher specimen. The plants behind my house are hardly thriving either. I do not think this species is a big threat in my area at this time. But who knows what the future will bring? This could be important information.

Unfortunately, the quarry rim trail is not a hike that can be managed in the evening after work. Our spring has been late but hot, so accelerated that plants I saw just starting to flower last weekend are in fruit already. If this trend continues, I'll have to collect an Oregon-grape voucher specimen later in the season. At least then I will be able to see the "grapes" for myself.

Sources: PLANTS Database, NatureServe, Flora of North America.

Gas Station Cozy

2008-04-26T21:16:00.003-04:00

I want to alert everyone to the International Fiber Collaborative, because it is just so freaking cool. Fine arts graduate student Jennifer Marsh conceived the idea to cover an abandoned gas station in fiber panels, to make a statement about our dependency on oil for energy. First she got permission from the property owner, and then got permits from the Town. People from all world contributed panels they crocheted, knitted, quilted, or otherwise created; Jennifer assembled them all into this truly glorious installation.

Head on over to the official site and check out the additional photos there, including shots of the installation process and close-up shots showing details on individual panels. Also, if you have an abandoned gas station in your area, take a photo and send it to Jennifer. She is always looking for other possible sites... maybe if you are lucky, the International Fiber Collaborative will come to your town.

Friday Flower Blogging

2008-04-18T20:21:00.002-04:00

We are enjoying a stretch of amazingly beautiful weather here, and I've been kicking myself for not planning ahead better and requesting a day off this week. Inspired by rumors of bloodroot flowering locally, SodaBoy and I hit up a local state park after I got off work yesterday. The park is a geological and botanical wonder, one of the best spots in my immediate area to see spring wildflowers. The phenological rumors proved true. Witness:

wild ginger (Asarum canadense)

bloodroot (Sanguinaria canadensis)

Judge and Jury

2008-04-16T19:19:00.004-04:00

The kids these days... they are really smart. By kids I mean undergraduates, and by smart, I mean freaking geniuses. Today I served as a volunteer judge on a panel of fellow alumni at Small Green College. Our job was to review student research posters, and to select and rank the top three. When I signed up, I didn't know exactly what to expect, I just knew it sounded fun. It turned out to be very serious business indeed.

There were only four of us judges, and approximately 70 posters to be reviewed in under three hours. The event coordinator arranged it so each poster would be rated by two judges, assigning us each a unique list. Many students were present to discuss their research, but unfortunately, presentation was not part of the ranking criteria. This makes sense, because many students had class to attend, but it was hard to be impartial and not favor those students who were actually there. Especially in the disciplines outside my comfort zone, where an explanation could make a huge difference.

It was so hard! I only had about 5 minutes with each student poster, which isn't very long to talk to a student, read the poster text and figures, and complete an evaluation form. The posters were fantastic, for the most part, given that they were prepared by undergraduates. Sure, there were errors of inexperience: too much or too small text, too much jargon, unlabelled figures, undefined acronyms, spelling mistakes. But this was original research, and these kids were for real. They know their stuff.

It is a self-selected group; the research and the posters were voluntary, and not a class requirement. I certainly never presented research at a poster session as an undergraduate. Now I wish I had. I walked away from the event very impressed. They just need to have a few more judges next year.

Ben & Jerry's: Cinnamon Buns

2008-04-13T19:41:00.005-04:00

This post could be subtitled, "the best ice cream in the world." Because it is just that good. Seriously. Unless you are vegan, are allergic to dairy or other ingredients, or are trying to eat healthily, I simply insist you run straight out and pick up a pint. And hurry!

First a disclaimer or two: I have no involvement with B&J. I don't eat eat that much ice cream, and furthermore, I don't care for many of B&J's varieties, mostly because I don't care for the texture of the "extras" when frozen. For example, I love the pistachio ice cream base of their Pistachio Pistachio flavor, but can't stand the icky frozen nuts (even though I like pistachios). One exception that I do enjoy in pint form is Coffee Heath Bar Crunch, and in the scoop shops, I like the Mint Chocolate Chunk. So that should give you an idea of my tastes... pretty simple really.

Label Information
Ingredients: cream, skim milk, water, liquid sugar, sugar, wheat flour, corn syrup, egg yolks, soybean oil, brown sugar, butter, palm oil, molasses, cinnamon, guar gum, salt, baking soda, soya lecithin, carrageenan, natural flavors, inert sugar, vanilla extract.

Ben & Jerry's Homemade, Inc.
30 Community Drive
So. Burlington, VT 05403-6828
www.benjerry.com

We can't remember who said what when about cinnamon buns, but that's all it took for us to roll out the cinnamon dough, swirl in the streusel, and make this flavor happen. Our cool salute to cinnamon buns is sensationally cinnamon-sugary, irresistibly streuseled, and so deliriously dough-loaded, there's no telling where the cinnamon buns end or the ice cream begins. That's because it's one fun flavor all the way through. Enjoy!

We oppose Recombinant Bovine Growth Hormone. The family farmers who supply our milk and cream pledge not to treat their cows with rBGH.

Ice Cream Review
OK, so I've already revealed my hand here: I love this ice cream. I really, really like it. In fact, I think it raises the bar for ice cream; there is nothing out there even remotely comparable. Unfortunately for B&J, I love it so much that I've stopped buying it. I had to, though--I was starting to develop a problem. It got so I was eating an entire pint in two sittings. I was emailing home from work on days I knew SodaBoy was going grocery shopping, demanding an update. Did you get Cinnamon Buns? I knew it was time to step off. I've seen for myself how these things can work out when not nipped in the bud.

See, when I was in college, my friend J. had an evening ritual involving B&J. Every night he would ride his bike a few blocks to the local bodega, and return with a pint. He would then proceed to eat the entire thing in one sitting. There was even a special oven mitt he used to keep his hand warm while he clutched the ice cream. After he graduated, he moved to the west coast, and a few years later SodaBoy and I flew out to visit. J. looked amazing. We asked him what was up, if the climate agreed with him, if he was working out. The answer: he'd given up the daily Ben & Jerry's ritual.

Even though I'm scared straight, I am glad that B&J's Cinnamon Buns ice cream exists. As Tennyson said, 'tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.

See My Stamens

2008-04-10T19:30:00.008-04:00

Every day this week, I have eagerly examined the red maple tree that grows in the yard next door. The weather has been mild and sunny, quintessential spring, and each evening I've been certain that it would finally be the day: the maple would flower. Tuesday I had a long field day, arriving home from a day trip to another state at 9:30 pm. Murphy's Law would suggest that would be the day the tree would flower, but a Wednesday morning inspection revealed otherwise. I started to get impatient: the crocuses are blooming, as are the Siberian squill. What the hell?

Finally! Today was the day... I got to report my first observation. First flower is defined on the phenopause page as the date the first flowers are completely open. "You must be able to see the stamens among the unfolded petals." Full flower is a separate event to report, which is probably good in this case. I didn't traipse too far into my neighbors' yard, but I only saw two flowers that were completely open. No matter--I see stamens. What is flowering in your yard?

Friday Cat Blogging: Guilty?

2008-04-04T19:34:00.000-04:00

Lesson Learned

2008-03-31T19:56:00.006-04:00

After posting about it twice already, I figure I should at least disclose the events of my Saturday evening Earth Hour. SodaBoy and I lit some candles and played Trivial Pursuit. We didn't end up turning the lights back on until almost 10 pm, because that's how long it took to finish the game, despite our acceleration techniques. When we play with just the two of us, we modify the rules: instead of the standard one question, we allow for two (except for the final question). Since neither of us are sports literate, we use wild card for that category. And we allow the player to choose their own category for the last question.

SodaBoy and I met in 1992. We've played a lot of board games over the years, especially during our undergraduate years. The old Trivial Pursuit edition had all those impossible 50s entertainment questions, and we couldn't exclude sports altogether with fans around--that just wouldn't be fair. So we would often play in teams to make it more balanced. In all those years of solo and team play, I never once beat SodaBoy at Trivial Pursuit, nor a team on which he played. In fact, there is only one person I have ever seen beat him, our college friend J, the exception to many a rule. Until Saturday night, that is. During Earth Hour, sweet victory was mine.

I think the moral of the story is that board games should always be played by candlelight. No, seriously... I'm not just saying that because I won.

Reminder: Earth Hour Tonight

2008-03-29T10:07:00.005-04:00

Yesterday afternoon, a co-worker asked me if I had any big plans for the weekend. I told him, casually, I am going to turn my lights off for an hour. Imagine my thrill when he told me that he, too, was planning to observe Earth Hour, studying by candlelight. I wrote about Earth Hour last month, and but no one seemed interested at the time. I think I was a little bit ahead of the game, posting so far in advance. It just seemed so exciting to me.

Now that the timing is more appropriate, Earth Hour is finally getting some attention. The Google page is all black today, with a link to Earth Hour; it is one of the top stories on Yahoo news. The event has already come and gone in Sydney, where the movement originated last year, and by all accounts was a huge success. So please consider participating. It is simple, really. All you need to do is turn off your lights for one hour, starting tonight at 8 pm.

My New Head

2008-03-22T18:42:00.003-04:00

I work for a small company, and the administrative assistant hand delivers our pay stubs every other Friday. Yesterday afternoon, as she made her rounds at 3 o'clock, she got to pass on a little bit of good news as well. The owners had decided to send us home early because of Good Friday. Of course, I was in the middle of something and didn't actually get out the door for another half hour, but it was welcome news nonetheless.

The first thing I did when I got the notice was call home. I wanted to suggest to SodaBoy that we go and get haircuts and coffee drinks, but he didn't answer the phone. When I got home, his car was in the driveway, and looking inside, I could see him in the back room, talking on the phone and looking out the window. I ran around back and tapped on the window. When he came around to the back door to let me in, there was no phone--it turns out he had been listening to my office voicemail greeting, which I made obnoxiously long to deter people from actually leaving a message.

The first thing I noticed upon seeing him was that he had gotten a haircut. Further questioning revealed that he had also enjoyed a coffee drink. I won't go as far as to suggest we are any great minds, but we sure think alike.

SodaBoy accompanied me back out for support, and I obtained the dreaded haircut. I am kind of a freak in that I don't like haircuts. I know many people feel pampered or something and actually enjoy the process, but to me it's an awful lot like going to the dentist, with someone I don't know getting all up in my business and chattering away the whole time. My friend T. gave me a haircut last summer, but it's been over two years since I was in a salon. As far as I'm concerned, the best thing about a haircut is how much quicker it is to wash and rinse short hair.

I hadn't really intended to blog about the haircut, but I was taking some pictures on the self timer to send to my mother and sister when Rhea jumped up, demanding attention just while I was posing, causing my hair to obscure my face as I looked down at her. It's not a great photo: Rhea's face is blurry because it was a long exposure, and she had been looking up at me until the shutter engaged. However, blogging has re-trained my eye, and now a portrait with hair blocking face translates to instant bloggability. So here it is: my new head.

Phenology Brief

2008-03-10T18:44:00.012-04:00

When I lived in the midwest and worked for Woodland Agency, I would often send emails to my Mom with the subject line, "phenology brief." Luckily Mom is a bit of a geek, too, because the messages would be lists of plants I'd seen in various stages of development for the first time that season. Phenology is the the study of periodic biological phenomena, and how the timing of such events relate to climactic conditions. Mom would then write back and tell me what was blooming back home.

This is probably why I was so excited when I stumbled upon Project Budburst. In the tradition of great citizen science programs like FrogWatch USA and Christmas Bird Count, Project BudBurst relies upon the participation of the public. Observers from all around the country report back with data revealing the appearance of spring. Phenological events of interest include first flower, first leaf, full leaf, and seed dispersal.

I signed up at the Project Budburst website this weekend. Address is optional, but latitude and longitude are required fields, with links provided to help participants figure that out. There is a list of approximately 60 target plants that are common and easy to identify, although observations are accepted about other plants as well. I plan to submit phenological data on the red maple, paper birch, and lilac, all targeted plants, and garlic mustard as well.

These plants all grow in my yard, so I will be sure to notice events of interest, but you can submit data from anywhere you choose. Other common landscaping plants include forsythia and flowering dogwood, and even the lowly dandelion made the list. Native trees and wildflowers are also well represented.

Do you have kids? This would be a great activity to do as a family. There is a "for students" section on the website. Are you a teacher? There is a page for you, too.

Bio Bits

2008-03-07T08:09:00.006-05:00

I've got a post about phenology simmering, but no time to do it justice. Instead I'll share with you some related observations from the last week:

Monday was unseasonably warm, and I dragged SodaBoy on a forced march to Stormwater Park after work. It was a bit of a mud wallow, but I did see my first red-winged blackbird of the season. Actually, I heard it long before I saw it, although that's probably not uncommon.

I went for a walk around downtown yesterday at lunch. I found a dead bat on the sidewalk, which gave me quite a pause in light of the white nose syndrome that is plaguing area bats. I squatted down and visually inspected the bat, but saw no evident fungus. However, I couldn't help but wonder what the bat was doing out this time of year, when it should still be hibernating.

Then, in the mid-afternoon, I glanced out the window to see not one, but two bald eagles riding the thermals. When I worked in Minnesota, I saw bald eagles every day, but I work in a northeastern rustbelt city now, right downtown. It was thrilling. At first I tried to explain it away, they must just be black-backed gulls, but a quick peek through the spotting scope proved otherwise. Eagles! Downtown!

Why do we have a spotting scope lying around the office? For the peregrine falcons, of course. Their nest box on the tall government building is also in the viewshed from my desk. The pair has returned to the area, and I am now seeing them again daily.

I may have scraped the windshield nearly every day this week, and we may have a winter storm warning in effect as I type this, but spring is in the air. It's coming. Just ask the red-winged blackbird and the peregrine falcon.

You Gotta See the Baby

2008-03-04T21:00:00.002-05:00

A friend from work had her baby a few weeks ago, and I went over for a visit after work tonight. Ostensibly I was there delivering gifts from the women who work for our company in another city, but mostly I was there to squeeze the baby. The little one is not yet three weeks old, tiny and perfect. She slept the entire time I was there, sweet putty in my hands. I am pretty sure women of my age should not be allowed to clutch babies for that long. Oh my!

Friday Cat Blogging

2008-02-29T17:04:00.000-05:00

Earth Hour 2008

2008-02-26T18:57:00.013-05:00

Organized by the World Wildlife Fund, Earth Hour started last year in Sydney, Australia. To raise awareness of climate change, Sydney residents were asked to turn their lights off for one hour at 8 pm on March 31, 2007. The response was overwhelming: 2.2 million people and 2100 businesses flipped the switch, plunging Sydney into darkness. For that hour, the energy consumption in the city decreased by 10%.

This year Earth Hour is going global. At 8 pm (local time) on March 29, people all over the world will be turning off their lights. Imagine the view from space, as urban centers voluntarily dim, a global wave. Let's redefine rolling blackouts... Watch the video. Join the movement. Turn off your lights.

Lazy Saturday

2008-02-23T19:45:00.003-05:00

Today has been a pretty awesome day, if you like lazy weekends. We started the day by sleeping ridiculously late, then got up and went out for breakfast, something we haven't done in a long time. Our favorite breakfast joint is also enjoyed by other humans and is often quite crowded, with people waiting to be seated. In the winter it can be uncomfortable when stupid people foolishly hold both sets of doors open simultaneously, thereby freezing out the entire restaurant. Apparently some people do not realize the point of a vestibule in cold climates. Very frustrating.

Anyway, our morning somnolence meant we were late enough so there were no such issues today: the crowds had dispersed. After our meal we stopped at the big box book store around the corner and got coffee drinks, browsing as we sipped our mochas. Do they pipe that delightful booky smell into those stores? We ended up with a few bargain books and SodaBoy splurged on a nice architecture book. When we got home, we shoveled the driveway, then headed out back for a walk in the woods.

After our walk, I made a cup of my favorite tea, an expensive treat that I reserve for weekends; I drink way too much tea to afford Rishi on a daily basis. Then I settled down on the new couch to do some reading while SodaBoy played the guitar, working on his newest song. Any day that includes sleeping in, banana pancakes, a walk in the woods, and me reading on the couch with a nice cup of tea? It's a good one.

Freezer Burn

2008-02-11T19:52:00.001-05:00

I don't generally mind winter too much, at least not until March or April. This time of year I expect to be cold, and I expect to be shoveling. It's no big deal. Well, today was just too freaking cold. I'm drawing a line. This is bullshit! Scene: my driveway, this morning before work. The snow squall that blustered through yesterday had left several inches, so I headed out a few minutes early, leaving plenty of time to brush off the car and still make it to work on time. Ha!

The plot twist: the doors on my car were all frozen shut. I drive a hatchback, which was miraculously unfrozen, so I crawled in through the hatch, after a modest delay taking the cover off and folding the seat down. Straddling the center console, I managed to depress the clutch and start up the engine. I was able to force the passenger side door open from the inside, but no luck with the driver side door. Sigh. Crawled back out, scraped the inch of ice off the windshield, nearly lost several fingers to frostbite. Cursed a bit and felt sorry for myself. Crawled back in and drove to work.

The roads were fine, so my commute was uneventful. The despondency set in as I activated the turn signal on approaching the parking garage. I was reaching for my card when I realized that the driver side door was still frozen shut, as was the window. I had no way to get in the parking garage. What to do? I briefly entertained the idea of turning around and going home, but ultimately, I didn't want to waste the personal day when I didn't even get to sleep in.

I drove around the block, then pulled over on the side of the road, and cranked the heat. We all know how much that excites me. Finally, after a few long torturous minutes of fretting and sweating and frantically tugging on the door and window handles, the window cracked open. Sweet icy air! At last I could turn off the blasted heat and enter the parking garage. Of course, my damn door was still frozen shut, so I had to crawl back out over the stick shift. And I was half an hour late.

Luckily the day took a turn for the warm, and the temperature had reached double digits by the time I left the office. I could enter my auto through the designated portal. Hooray! Lizard shit! Fuck!

These Settlers Own Me

2008-02-10T15:21:00.000-05:00

Back in 2006, I wrote about Caesar IV, the computer game that had temporarily taken over my life at the time. Since that time, I've barely gamed at all. Until I got this new laptop, that it. SodaBoy pressured me into installing Caesar IV pretty much instantly after receiving the new computer, because his old system had only met the minimum system requirements, and we'd never seen all the bells and whistles. Curiosity and all. Inevitably, we both got into playing the game again.

Then, SodaBoy took it up a notch: he bought me a new game. I didn't even know Settlers existed, but apparently various more primitive versions have been available since the early 90s. And it is definitely my kind of game: build a city, gather resources, produce goods, trade with other cities, and protect the settlers. So many possible scenarios, so little time...

Not that I haven't dedicated some serious play time to this game. I played for hours both Friday and Saturday nights, even dreaming about the game in the wee hours this morning. That's always my cue that it's time to back off from a game and reclaim my mental space. But there is also the little voice telling me I should go ahead and play tonight, too: it's still the weekend, after all. Which little voice will win? To some extent it depends on SodaBoy's selection of crappy television programming tonight. Because playing a computer game can't be worse than staring vacantly at telly swill. Right?

I Don't Want No Drama

2008-02-05T19:45:00.000-05:00

My one year anniversary at the new job rolls around next week. For the most part, things are really great: my work is interesting, I am using both my college degrees, my commute is short, I like my co-workers, our office space is beautiful, and I seem to be well respected. I was given a Christmas bonus that was by no means universal, and a substantial raise at a performance review that included not a single negative comment.

Another nice thing has been the near complete lack of drama. Sure, I've heard from a colleague who works in another office that there are ISSUES in their office, a feeling of division and resentment towards our office, that people are bitter they didn't get bonuses to pay for our relocation to the new office space. However, those are distant rumblings. Everyone I regularly interact with seems genuinely happy to be working for the Company.

In the year that I have been there, only one person has left their job, and that was to relocate to a distant city for family reasons. That person continues to have an amicable relationship with staff and management, returning for a visit at the holidays, and doing freelance work for us on the side. Contrast that with my previous job, where in my 3 years of employment, 13 people either quit or were let go in my department alone, which is an obscene turnover rate for a group of 5-6 people. Yeah, it was pretty sucky there.

Anyway, it was with great dismay that I learned of drama rearing it's ugly head at my current job. Luckily for me, since these things stress me out to no end, I don't know all the details. A co-worker alledgedly snapped, and screamed profanities at one of the owners of the company, then stormed out, and did not return for the rest of the day. It all sounds pretty damning, but like I said, I wasn't there.

I like the individual in question: he is smart and funny. He's a blogger, fer chrissakes. I have no idea what his beef was, as we work in vastly different areas, but find the whole sordid affair to be quite unfortunate. I wish things had turned out differently, not just for my co-worker, but for myself, too. I was enjoying working in happy land. La-la-la.

O Happy Day!

2008-01-30T18:58:00.000-05:00

The last of our Christmas presents arrived today, a new couch from SodaBoy's parents. This is a very exciting development, as the most seating we've ever had in our living room was a loveseat and an armchair, room for exactly three bodies. Since two of us live here, that means there has only been room for one guest at a time. Luckily we don't entertain much, but we do host small family gatherings around the holidays. Several of us typically end up sitting on the floor on such occasions. No more!

Plus, as you can see in the photo, our loveseat is quite modest in dimensions. SodaBoy is on the tall side, and we've never had a piece of furniture that allowed him to stretch out. No more! He is currently reclined with a blanket and a cat, lolling in maximum comfort. I don't want to revel too much in consumerism, but this couch thing is really great. And since we got the loveseat and armchair in 1999, and they are still going strong, I see no reason why the couch won't last a good many years, too.

Grammy's Desk

2008-01-24T18:47:00.000-05:00

My late grandmother always loved music. She was one of those community members who attended school musicals and recitals not just to see a relative perform, but routinely, for the sheer enjoyment. She sang in choirs in her younger days, and just plain sang in her older days. SodaBoy plays the guitar, and she would ask to him to play whenever we hosted family gatherings. She would nod and sway as he played, until unable to contain her joy, she would burst again into song. SodaBoy doesn't play sing-a-longs; he writes his own songs, primarily instrumental pieces. But Grammy never let that stop her. She would just vocalize a warbly hum to accompany the melody.

It was a year ago that Grammy died. The family convened in April for a memorial service, and to clean out her house. I ended up with a carload of items to store for a far-flung relation, from whom I have heard nothing in the interim. At the one year anniversary of her death, SodaBoy and I went into the basement and brought Grammy's desk upstairs. When the flip top is closed, the desk looks more like a dresser; the upper door is hinged and it folds open to create the writing surface. For as long as I can recall, it sat in her living room near the front door, holding letters and postage and money for the paperboy, carefully counted out in advance.

Now it sits in our back room, right next to the little piano I inherited from my great aunt, a very dear friend of my grandmother's. It makes me happy to reunite the two friends symbolically. It makes me happy to incorporate into our living space this personal item that once belonged to my grandmother, to see it every day and know that she saw it every day, too. And I think it would make Grammy happy, as well. The best part is that we are using the desk for storing various musical paraphernalia: the Pod, the mixer, the drum machine. Now I just have to hope Aunt FarAway continues forgetting that I am storing the desk for her.

4 Things Meme

2008-01-15T19:21:00.000-05:00

I was tagged for this meme last week by Mary over at No Polar Coordinates. I haven't done a meme in a while, so I might as well try this one. At least it's nice and listy.

Four Jobs I've Had

Keyboard Specialist

Pharmacy Technician

Gas Chromatography Analyst

Dendrology Assistant

Four Places I Have Lived

Oscoda, MI

Blackduck, MN

Mashpee, MA

Current Hometown

Four Places I Have Vacationed

Acadia National Park

Northern California

Maho Bay, St. John

The Adirondacks

Four of My Favorite Foods

Strawberries

Raspberries

Pho

Egg Noodles

Four Things I Like to Do

Hike/Walk

Take Photos

Read Books

Canoe/Kayak

OK, this took longer than I thought, so I am not going to tag anyone. Except Electronic Goose, that is, because I recently learned she has never done a meme.

A Very Blustery Day, Indeed

2008-01-09T19:26:00.000-05:00

As I was driving to work this morning, the local NPR station host admonished listeners to stay tuned for school announcements. Initially I thought it must be a mistake, a canned winter time blurb, but I was wrong. Most of the districts in the area were delayed an hour or two, because of high winds. What? Who ever heard of such a thing? I swear that never happened when I was a student. I was making all sorts of pathetic little jokes in my head about kindergartners blowing away. Given that it was 50 degrees and sunny, it seemed a little silly.

I arrived downtown and got the last spot on the 5th floor of the parking garage. After descending the dizzying staircase, I emerged onto the street to a breathtaking rainbow. How I wished I had my camera with me! It wasn't until I'd crossed the street that I realized I did have the camera, tucked into my backpack to be downloaded, along with my field vest and and other assorted gear left over from a local endangered species habitat assessment yesterday afternoon.

I tossed my clipboard and lunch on the sidewalk, dug the camera out of my backpack, and started firing away, collecting some damn convincing evidence that one should always have a camera on their person. My hair blew into a rat's nest, and my hearty lunch of homemade macaroni & cheese, a can of soda, and sugar snap peas practically blew away, but I started the work day in fine spirits. Happy Windsday to all!

The Morose Bookseller

2008-01-08T18:33:00.001-05:00

Last week, the receptionist at my office sent around an email announcing that her brother is closing up his shop, and is unloading all books for $1. I felt pretty bad receiving the email, as I didn't even know his bookstore was there. I like reading, and the store is an easy walk from my office. Ergo, it must be my fault that Brother Bookseller is going out of business.

Despite my love of the outdoors, fresh air, and all that good stuff, I don't regularly go for walks at lunchtime (probably why I didn't know about the bookstore). I have too hard a time with the temperature fluctuations: when it's hot outside, it's cool inside, and vice verse. I don't like getting all sweatified in my office lady clothes. Not that my clothes are what most people would consider fancy, but to me, if it's not denim, I feel black tie.

With this freakish warm spell, though, I couldn't resist. I headed out at a rapid clip, walking a big loop around the downtown area so that I would pass the closing bookstore on my back to the office. When I first entered, it was desolate: very few books, and no shopkeeper in sight. I persisted with my sweaty browsing, and predictably found a couple of books worth buying.

It wasn't until Brother Bookseller came downstairs to accept my money that I realized there was a whole second story I'd missed. Needing to get back to work, I made some inane comment, I'll have to come back tomorrow. The response of Brother Bookseller was crushing. In the most despondent fashion imaginable, barely able to raise his head, he muttered, if I am still open. I understand that closing the shop is probably the hardest thing this man has done; he is giving up on a dream, a passion, a life. It can't be easy. But regardless of my easy feelings of guilt, the failing business is not really my fault, and now I feel even worse.

Will I return as promised? We'll see. I don't know if I can face that despair again so soon.

679 Empties

2008-01-06T18:50:00.000-05:00

During the summer months, we always move our house plants out onto the screened back porch, where despite the paucity of direct sunlight, they seem to thrive. Bringing them back inside this fall was more challenging a task than in past years. These wretched cats seem to be on a mission of total destruction, and plants are a very attractive nuisance. The Christmas cactus had been broken sheer in half before I finally found a relatively safe spot on top of the curio cabinet.

In the midst of all the shuffling of that one particular plant, I decided I should buckle down and re-pot it. The pot in which the roots are growing is tiny, and that pot is currently resting inside a much larger receptacle. I knew we had potting soil in the garage, so it seemed a simple and timely task, a way to compensate for the destructive forces that had so recently torn the little plant in two.

However, when I went in the garage to find the potting soil, I quickly threw up my hands in defeat and retreated back into the house, tail between my legs. There would be no tender ministrations, for the potting soil was buried in a virtual avalanche of soda containers.

As his name might imply, SodaBoy drinks a lot of soda. [There is really no way to say that without it being a huge understatement.] And since my job involves longer hours than his, he does the majority of our grocery shopping. Problem is, he doesn't like returning the empties. We have curbside recycling, and could simply place the cans and bottles in the blue bin, and leave it to the city to attend to the details. But we live in a deposit state, where every container returned to store nets a nickle, and I am far too cheap to let that money slip away.

So I decided this afternoon to take advantage of the warm weather, and load up the car for a bottle run. Load it up I did: hatch, back seat, shotgun. When I unloaded the sticky bags into shopping carts in the supermarket parking lot, it took two full size carts, piled high, with even the bottom racks stuffed. After an hour of feeding cans into the machines and lining bottles up on the counter, I walked away with receipts worth $33.95 to put towards the grocery bill.

And the best news? I made a good-sized dent in the container drift in the garage, unearthing the potting mix. There might even be room for a car in there now.

Go Team!

2008-01-05T16:42:00.000-05:00

I have been going to a lot of college basketball games this year, more so than ever before. Tickets are expensive, and my new found attendance is wholly because of the set of season tickets I was gifted to share with my sister, who alas, has been unable to attend most games, leaving the tickets for SodaBoy and I to enjoy. Rooting for the Hometown University men's basketball team has been an off again, on again hobby for me throughout the years, an odd character trait in one who is utterly indifferent to all other sporting events.

Attending all these games instead of just watching on tv drives home the point of exactly how many there are. There were two already this week, one earlier this afternoon, and another evening game to rush to after work earlier in the week. If I am this exhausted just from showing up, think how tired the players must be. They have to run up and down the court for 40 minutes, not to mention the daily practices, the travel, the college classes. I guess that's why I am not an elite athlete. Or one reason, anyway. There is also my complete lack of coordination. Minor detail, right?

The HU team has been blighted by a series of injuries and defections this year, and our bench is shallow. The coach has resorted to starting three freshman and two sophomores. The team has a lot of raw talent, and lots of room for improvement. It has been a fun season so far. They managed to win the first two conference games, and it will be fun to see how they hold up to stiffer competition. At least the next two games are on the road. I can watch from my couch, and with the new laptop, maybe even keep up with the blogging. Fancy that.

2007: The Year in Books

2007-12-31T22:57:00.000-05:00

Last year when I posted my 2006 book list, I was full of grandiose plans for keeping a list of movies I'd watched, but that never happened. I actually started such a list, but it became shameful to me that the movie list might be longer than the book list. Then my computer died, and all the lists suffered for it (as did the blog). However, there has been a fabulous holiday plot twist to this sad story. Drumroll, please... I was gifted a shiny new laptop. Joy of joys! So in celebration of unfettered computing, I am posting a reconstructed book list. It is sort of a pathetic little tally, but it is a list, and they are books; good things both. Happy New Year!

Sick Puppy by Carl Hiaasen
The Position by Meg Wolitzer
The Highest Tide by Jim Lynch
The Glass Castle by Jeannette Walls
The Memory Keeper’s Daughter by Kim Edwards
From the Mixed-up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler by E.L. Konigsburg
The Sex Lives of Cannibals by J. Maarten Troost
Dear Mr. Henshaw by Beverly Cleary
The Hungry Tide by Amitov Ghosh
Into the Forest by Jean Hegland
The Spirit Catches You and You Fall Down by Anne Fadiman
Harry Potter & the Sorcerer’s Stone by J.K. Rowling
Harry Potter & the Chamber of Secrets by J.K. Rowling
Harry Potter & the Prisoner of Azkaban by J.K. Rowling
Harry Potter & the Goblet of Fire by J.K. Rowling
Harry Potter & Order of the Phoenix by J.K. Rowling
Harry Potter & the Half-Blood Prince by J.K. Rowling
Harry Potter & the Deathly Hallows by J.K. Rowling
A Mile in Her Boots edited by Jennifer Bove
A Midwife’s Story by Penny Armstrong and Sheryl Feldman
Last Child in the Woods by Richard Louv
Amy and Isabelle by Elizabeth Strout
The Tortilla Curtain by T.C. Boyle

Backyard Buck

2007-12-16T13:38:00.000-05:00

We had a visitor yesterday. The impending storm must have emboldened the buck, because it was broad daylight and he came right down near the house to browse the English ivy.

I had no idea anyone ate that stuff. It must be a case of desperate times calling for desperate measures. The buck looks pretty healthy though, which is good, because it's only December... we are guaranteed to get a lot more snow.

It was fun watching the feline reaction to the buck. SodaBoy was able to sneak them onto the screen porch without scaring off the deer, so the encounter was a close one. The cats love the porch, but had no idea what to make of the dining deer. Much kitty poofiness ensued.

The Island of Misfit Ornaments

2007-12-14T19:26:00.001-05:00

This is the temporary staging area for those
ornaments rescued from the cats, but not yet re-hung.

Nervous Nelly

2007-12-10T18:28:00.000-05:00

We bought a fir tree from a local farmer this weekend, and set it up, but just with lights so far. This is the first holiday season for the kittens, and we aren't yet sure how they will handle the temptations. They have already proven themselves suspect by pulling at branches and chewing on lit bulbs. Squirting them with water seems to work only when we are home to wield the spray bottle, as evidenced by a broken lamp and shattered ceramics.

We have been unplugging the tree lights before leaving the cats unsupervised, and I am leaning towards skipping the most fragile ornaments this year. SodaBoy complained that those are the nicest ones, and of course, I agree (which is why I don't want to subject them to the spastic enthusiasms of these silly kitties). Our other cats never posed a threat to trees or ornaments. My hope is by next year these two will have settled down some.

I feel a little uncomfortable being such a nervous nelly about my ornaments. This is the only time of year when such decorations can be enjoyed, after all. However, I have had many of these ornaments for 20-30 years now, and they wouldn't bring me much pleasure smashed into smithereens. Decisions, decisions. I think I will stick with wait and see for now.

I can always toss caution to the wind next week.

Inspiration

2007-12-01T17:49:00.000-05:00

I want to thank the good folks at FUH2 for providing the inspiration for this photo. I did not submit it to the website, since the subject of this photo is actually an H3, but the shot was readily available and I could not resist.

Surprise Darkness

2007-11-28T18:28:00.000-05:00

Last night, as I was cleaning up the kitchen after our chicken parm dinner, SodaBoy called out to me that there was a power company work crew in the street in front of the house. He said, "I hope we don't lose power." I shrugged it off as an idle concern, and went about my business. Then, just seconds after I'd started up the dishwasher, the entire house shuddered into darkness. The crew had taken down half the block, starting at our house. The house right next door never lost power.

It seemed like an odd time for maintenance: it was pouring rain, with snow mixed in, and two very definite claps of thunder. We lit some candles and entertained ourselves by taking photos. Luckily our electricity was restored an hour later, but we never fired the computer back up, and I got to bed nice and early. I think I would sleep a lot more without the distractions of electricity.

Thanksgiving Recap

2007-11-26T10:54:00.000-05:00

We spent the holiday with the in-laws this year, as we do most. SodaBoy's parents live on a coastal barrier island in the south, a gorgeous location replete with white sand beaches and rippling salt marshes, miles of paved bike paths and recreational opportunities galore. SodaBoy's sister and her family were there as well, so we got to enjoy the antics of the nephews, always a good source of entertainment. There was much to be thankful for.

However, I always chafe a bit under the regiment of planned activities. Part of the problem is the trip was so short, that there was little spare time, but in general, free will is not a big part of spending time with the in-laws. Every activity is choreographed, with little tolerance for deviation.

We arrived Thursday, and SodaBoy and I begged off immediately for a quick walk to stretch our legs after the flights. We hurried down to the beach and snapped some photos, but quickly returned so as not to upset the balance. The rest of the day was spent cooking, eating, and cleaning the kitchen. At least by us womenfolk... the men were free to watch football, drink voluminously, and nap. Thrilling, no? However, hors d'oeuvres before dinner included shrimp fresh off the boat, a delight so sweet and crispy you wouldn't know they were the same creature marketed as shrimp in my local inland markets.

Friday: kayaking, followed by an oyster roast at the country club. Saturday: golf for the menfolk and biking for the women and kiddies, followed by dinner at a resort restaurant. Sunday: fly home. Busy, busy, busy.

I *love* the kayaking there. It is hands-down my favorite low country activity. We see dolphins in the tidal creeks, this year a mother and juvenile, and birds and crabs and all sorts of neat stuff. The funny thing is that SodaBoy's father is convinced that kayaking is dangerous, a daredevil pursuit akin to bungee jumping or skydiving. These are guided tours, with two guides assigned to each small group. It is not exactly life threatening. He just doesn't get it, though, and was all prepared to notify next of kin.

I am so glad I have today off to decompress before returning to work. Even though SodaBoy's parents live in a beautiful place that draws many visitors, and we get get to do some amazing things there, it never quite feels like a vacation to me. Puppets can't relax. Puttering around the house last night unpacking and squeezing the kitties? Now that is something to be thankful for.

Holiday Placeholder

2007-11-21T19:36:00.000-05:00

I have been completely overextended and overwhelmed of late, with too many commitments to stay sane, let alone keep up the blog. The madness continues for the next several days, but I requested Monday off from work, and that is the carrot I am dangling in front of myself: one lone day where I'll have naught to do but mundutiae. Hurray!

In the meantime, Happy Thanksgiving to all who celebrate.

The Thermostat Wars

2007-11-11T11:44:00.001-05:00

When I was an undergraduate, I spent my upper class years living in an off-campus apartment with a bunch of buddies. The flat was one of three in a big, old rambling house with lots of character. We loved the fire place with the built in bookcases and the big front porch, but the draftiness made heating a challenge, as did our lack of unity on what a reasonable indoor temperature should be.

The roommates didn't argue about it. Rather, we engaged in passive agressive thermostat wars, with each roommate secretly turning the thermostat up or down as he or she saw fit. I fell solidly into the camp that was constantly turning the heat DOWN. I abhor the practice some people have of heating their homes to the point that they can be comfortable wearing shorts in the wintertime. Put on a freaking sweater, already. I am wearing two right now.

So I was thrilled to stumble upon the Freeze Your Buns Challenge over at Crunchy Chicken. Basically, the idea is that participants will pledge to lower their thermostats this winter. People aren't being asked to literally freeze, just to think about their energy consumption, and to try to reduce it. Even one degree makes a big difference, and it is great to see so many people excited to participate.

We have a rule in our house that we don't turn on the heat before November. Last year, we succumbed on November 2nd, but it was partially just to make sure the furnace in our new home actually worked. This year we lasted a little longer: it was November 6th when I arrived home from work to discover that SodaBoy had turned on the heat. The very next day, we had the first snow of the season.

Our house has a programmable thermostat, which is awesome, because we can't forget to turn the heat down at night. Last year, I set it to 62 degrees during the day, and 56 degrees at night. Technically, I am not sure I am participating in the challenge correctly, because I haven't lowered the thermostat per se. But I did go into the program and dramatically reduce the number of "day" hours. We are dropping to 56 earlier in the evening, and kicking it up to 62 later in the day.

Even wearing long underwear around the house, layering the sweaters, drinking lots of hot tea, and huddling under blankets when reading or watching tv, I am not sure we can go lower than 62 in the evenings. I am tempted to try for a lower temperature at night though. I often wake up at night too warm, so I am not worried about comfort. My concern is that the pipes could freeze.

Is there a safe method for determining how low one can safely turn the heat without bursting a pipe?

Democracy Geek*

2007-11-06T19:06:00.000-05:00

I just got back from voting, and am all a-flutter. I get such a buzz from voting, always have. This year there were several added bonuses to make things even more exciting.

First of all, my polling station had been moved to a student center at nearby Hometown University. After my experience last year voting in a church, I was thrilled to be at a more neutral location. I asked the poll workers about how polling stations are selected, but no one knew. They just show up where they are told. I made it clear how much I like the new location, although I chickened out and didn't admit why. My churchy neighbor was one of the volunteers, and I didn't want to offend her.

Unfortunately, this neutrality may not last. All the poll workers indicated that they, too, liked the new quarters--the building is bright and roomy and modern. However, apparently the elderly voters have been quite vocal in expressing their distaste for the new polling station. There is a traffic circle out front where parking is prohibited due to the frequent buses, and apparently the adjacent lot isn't quite convenient enough for the mobility impaired. This is really too bad, since the building itself is highly accessible. I really don't want people to not vote because of something so trivial as parking.

I also don't want to vote in a church. There must be some reasonable solution.

The other detail that pleased me was that I got to vote on the old fashioned, crank handled voting machines again. I treasure every opportunity to use these, since it may be my last. Unless, of course, I buy one for my living room. And don't think for one minute that I haven't fantasized about such a thing, because I most certainly have. I mean, seriously... how much would that rock?
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
* I shamelessly stole this title from The Onion. To be fair, I must acknowledge that I am not quite as much of a democracy geek as the titular David Haas. I do not vote in primaries because I cannot bear to declare allegiance to either political party.

Foxon Park: White Birch

2007-11-04T13:33:00.000-05:00

As astute readers may have surmised from the name, SodaBoy loves soda. Coca-cola classic is his favorite, the old standby, the default. However, like any true connoisseur, SodaBoy enjoys sampling different varieties. I do not quite share his passion for soda, but I get in on the fun, too. For example, when traveling, we always stop to see if we can find local brands.

And then, of course, there is the tasting. We are not big boozers, but mysteriously possess a Hometown University shot glass of completely unknown origins. It is certainly not the sort of thing that either of us would buy, yet it is this shot glass that I use to taste each new discovery. It delivers a perfect size portion, is easily refilled, and adds fun to the ritual.

Photo by SodaBoy
Label Information
Contains: carbonated water, sugar, natural and artificial flavor, sodium benzoate (preservative).

"ALL-WAYS IN GOOD TASTE"

Foxon Park Beverages, Inc.
East Haven, Connecticut 06513
CT. LIC. #158
Visit us at: www.foxonpark.com

Soda Review
This is a very nice soda. The flavor is that signature wintergreen of birch beer, with some initial bite, then a smooth finish. It is not excessively sweet. [That sweetness assessment is mine, not SodaBoy's. He rarely find any soda too sweet.] Also, this soda gets automatic bonus points for using real sugar as opposed to wretched ubiquitous corn syrup.