You Asked For It

That's what I'd say to all those newly elected members of Congress when they discover the realities of life as a member of the U.S. Congress. Having made boisterous, determined promises to clean-up the "mess" in Washington, they will soon find themselves very little fish in a very big pond. All their promises and threats will amount to diddlysquat. The time-honored, hardened hierarchy in Congress will put them in their places as the "freshmen" they are. It's too bad that they all seem to have separate agendas or no discernable agenda at all for solving the country's problems. Consensus is going to be even more difficult to reach with the grand-standing that each new member will feel compelled to do for the folks back home. During the past two years, it's been nearly impossible to accomplish much considering the stubborn divide between Republicans and Democrats. Throw in the Tea Party darlings and they'll be like even more wrenches thrown into the gears of government. I sincerely hope I'm mistaken and that the legislative wheels won't come to another screeching halt. Fingers crossed.

A Warm-Fuzzy

We had our first frost last night and it felt like a "warm-fuzzy" was in order for today's chilly weather. Bailey is my niece Bethany's dog and I think he's just too cute for words!

A Big Day in a Little City

Many thousands of peaceful people gathered on the east end of the National Mall today for an unusual event.

More often than not, rallies are held in D.C. to complain about something or other. This one, hosted by TV political comics Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert, was instead lighthearted and inclusive. There were a few semi-serious moments, that gently tweaked political polemics.

Despite an unfortunate accident on a Metro escalator, the rally went smoothly although traffic heading out of town was clogged for quite a while. At least the drivers and their passengers had something beautiful to look at.

It's been quite a day!

Today is my niece Nan's birthday. She lives in southeastern Wisconsin. When she didn't answer her cellphone or home phone I freaked. I was just sure she'd been swept away by the storms out there. Thankfully, she wrote this evening that she was taken out for a birthday lunch and everything was fine.

I have family living in northern and southern Illinois and southern Wisconsin. Hearing about the devastating storms out there -- perhaps the worst in 70 years -- I couldn't help worrying. So far I've been assured that everyone is OK and no one's house was damaged. I can breathe easy again.

Happy Birthday, Nan! I think we both could have done without all the excitement.

The picture is of a solid, 3 foot circumference acrylic sphere I saw at Ann Marie Gardens in Solomons, Maryland a couple of years ago. It was spellbinding! Wish I'd made a note of the artist's name.

"I've got tears in m'ears from cryin' over you."

That was a line in a song frequently played on the jukebox of a favorite little diner during my college days in Iowa. Another favorite was "who's gonna mow your lawn when I'm gone?". They don't write 'em like that any more. But that's beside the point of this post. When I slid into bed last night Spouse was already asleep. I started recounting a disturbing dream I'd had just before waking that morning. It was the same theme of other dreams I've been having lately. They all involve me making a bad decision and ending up lost somewhere I didn't want to be. Then it hit me: My Dad isn't here to offer his guidance anymore. As tears welled up, I squeezed my eyes closed trying to stop them. Of course that didn't work and they rolled down into my ears. I had to get up. Even though I'm passed the midpoint of my life I still need my Dad. It's hard to admit that. He could be and often was the harshest critic I ever knew. He felt it was his duty as a responsible father. On the other hand, he could make me feel so special and worthy. I could depend on him. He was always there to quietly take care of things like checking my tire pressure. If one was low he'd crank up his 1930s era air compressor to top it off. He was also a skilled, gentle splinter-remover. He seemed to know everything and was willing to share his knowledge but not his tools. Dad had an enormous collection of tools all of which he used with great skill. He kept a mental inventory of all of them and if anything was misplaced or damaged, he knew it. He had a table saw, sabre saw, cross-cut saw (whatever that is) and every screwdriver, hammer, wrench and gadget known to man. He loved peanut butter and collected the empty jars. Having made a frame, he nailed the lids to it. The jars held miscellaneous (sorted, of course) washers, screws, nails and other bits and pieces that he often found usefull. Being a practical man, he couldn't stand waste. He recycled long before America got serious about it. He fashioned our first barbeque from the wash tub of an old wringer washing machine. He made an elegant hanging lamp out of the lid with some sheet brass, plastic and a big cork from a bottle of something or other. It illuminated our dining room for years. He got a kick out of the curious and admiring looks guests gave it. My subconscious is working on me again. It was about this time three years ago that we learned Dad had cancer. In less than a month, he was gone. Some of us kids had suspected serious illness, but he had already decided to play the dying game his way. It had to have taken considerable strength and courage to keep going as if nothing was wrong. Sometimes I think I'm finished mourning. Times like this confirm that I'm not. Even though the hurt has less of an edge to it now, memories keep me from completely letting go. I think that's a good thing. In many ways I still need the anchor my Dad provided.

I am red neck.

I also have red ears, a red triangle on my chest that my shirt didn't cover. The tip of my nose, not covered by my hat is also red -- not at all lovely but less painful today than yesterday. Spouse and I spent no more than an hour at Gravelly Point yesterday afternoon and that's what I came home with. It was a stupendously beautiful day and going down there just seemed like the right thing to do. Lots of young families also felt that way. Some even had beach umbrellas and one had one of those canopy things, a table and chairs. The attraction of Gravelly Point is not only the fact that it's right on the Potomac River where a channel cuts through for boats coming in and out of the Columbia Island Marina. The Point is also at the end of the north/south runway at National Airport. I'm guessing the distance from the runway to the water's edge at the Point is about the length of a football field. In other words, you're feet under the flight path of a busy airport! Planes were landing from the north yesterday, so the noise was somewhat tolerable. However, when they take off to the north, watch out!! Some fly so low it feels like you could touch them. I can even feel the pressure from their powerful jets in my chest. Then, within about 10 seconds or so, you feel the whoosh of wind that blows after them. I'm thinking this is the turbulence that takes out little planes flying to closely behind big jets -- it's strong! I'm probably a wimp when it comes to noise -- I cover me ears against it. There were lots of little kids and several babies down at the Point, including one adorable 12 week old I stopped to admire. I didn't see anyone else covering their ears -- even the little kids!! Between eardrum shattering music through ear buds and everyday noise like leaf blowers, snow blowers, motor cycles, sirens, etc. I suspect they'll have little hearing left by the time they reach 50. Wimpdom has it's positive side! I'll be able to hear the crack when I fall and break my hip after stumbling over a curb while flying my kite at the ripe old age of 93! Whoopee.

Chilean Miners

Since seeing the narrow capsule that will soon bring the miners back to the surface, I've been feeling for them and subconsciously breathing more deeply. First, I cannot imagine how they have survived the trauma of being deep inside the earth for so long. Before they were discovered alive, thinking about their predicament had to have been overwhelming. Thinking about being buried alive would have been enough to kill me. Second, having been entombed in an MRI machine twice for one hour nearly drove me mad. If I hadn't believed the promises made by my Mom and sisters that they would be praying for me that morning, the test would have been impossible. As it was, they had to pull me out right after they first put me in because I felt like I was suffocating. This is going to be one helluva journey for these guys and I hope and pray they survive it. Think about how marvelous their first breath of fresh air will be and when they again see rivers trees sky stars moon rise sunset . . . . . . and touch the faces of their loved ones. Amen.

It's not so much a matter of free speech . . .

. . . as it is a matter of respect, humanity and conscience. Those who demonstrate their hatred and disrespect for others, particularly during tragedies prove how little connection they have with real life and with the God they profess to follow. I'm no Bible-totin'-quotin' type. I had to dust off my fifty year old Revised Standard Version before opening it for the first time in years. Just wanted to refresh my memory on the ten commandments and came across this in Exodus 22:21-24.

"You shall not wrong a stranger or oppress him for you were strangers in the land of Egypt. You shall not afflict any widow or orphan. If you do afflict them, and they cry out to me, I will hear their cry; and my wrath will burn, and I will kill you with the sword, and your wives shall become widows and your children fatherless."

Seems to me this promises pretty dire punishment for what some of these self-described Christians are doing. If they take the Bible as the literal word of God, they might want to reexamine their actions. For those who have been subjected to this sort of disgraceful behavior [which really is all of us who deplore it], take heart in knowing that ultimate justice is not in our hands, no matter what the U.S. Supreme Court decides. What goes around comes around. Evil will always be overpowered by Good.

"Amber Waves"

Cherry Crunch

Because night is showing up earlier and earlier every day, I've started thinking about comfort foods. The shortened days of Winter are not exactly welcomed by yours truly, but they do make me appreciate the long, hot days of Summer more.

With that out of the way, let me take you where you've never been before. To a world redolent with rich, buttery crispness and sweet/tangy goodness with a fragrance that will knock your socks off.

This is my take on an old family favorite, apple crisp, but using tart cherries rather than apples. When the apples come into season, I'll go with them, but for now, canned cherries are an excellent alternative. Oh, and trust me, these are not the kind of cherries you can eat straight out of the can. . . unless you like making sour faces.

Begin by heating your oven to 350. Pull out a 9" by 9" by 2" deep pan or something that equates to that. Measure a cup of juice from the cherries and pour it into the pan. Add 3 Tbs. of instant tapioca and let it soak for 15 minutes. While that's happening, melt a whole one stick of butter in a medium sauce pan. Once melted, remove from the heat and add the following: 1½ cups packed brown sugar, 1 cup quick cooking oatmeal, 1 cup all purpose flour, ¼ tsp. each salt, baking powder, baking soda [it will wait until you come back to it]. Now, back to the cherry juice/tapioca -- add ¼ tsp. almond extract and the drained cherries and gently mix together.

Now it's time to get down and dirty. With an impeccably clean hand, smoosh together the dry ingredients with the melted butter until it's crumbly. Loosely sprinkle it over the cherries and pop the pan into the oven for 30-35 minutes. It will be done when the topping is nicely browned and the aroma of the cherries and almond extract together make you weep with joyful anticipation. Spouse and I like it plain, but if you're one of those who must "gild the lily" you can top it off with iced or whipped cream. 　 [Note to Megan -- I triple-checked this recipe, so there are no mistakes in it . . . *sigh*]

"The Island"

I've read several books during the summer, but none moved me as much as the above by Elin Hilderbrand. Truthfully, I've read it twice and am trying to will myself to avoid a third read at least for a few months.

Impulsiveness is a huge part of my character. For ONCE, it paid off when I grabbed this book while speed-shopping through Target. I knew nothing of the author. The cover photo had me at first glance.

Beaches have been and remain an important factor to my happiness. If you believe in astrology, this might seem odd. As an Aries, I'm a fire sign, but proximity to water is what feeds my soul.

The story is about four women: two sisters in their 50s and one is the mother of two daughters both in their 30s. Their relationships are complex yet interwoven in surprising ways.

Starting with an attempt by the mother to help and learn why one of her daughters abruptly cancelled her wedding and succumbed to an emotional breakdown, the story takes all four women to a rustic island off Nantucket. Great grandparents built a cottage on the island years before and it had been a family vacation spot since. The island is privately owned by its residents, has rudimentary plumbing, no electricity, no telephones, TV, internet access, etc. Very rustic, but gorgeous for those who love the sea, beach and peace.

Love interests complicate the lives of these women, causing envy, jealousy, hurt and surprises. Perhaps the most appealing thing about this story is that all the characters end up resolving their "issues" and uncover lives they never thought possible.

The Island is joining my permanent collection.

CNN: Just Say No!

Until recently, I thought CNN was a reliable, less biased source of news and watched it exclusively every evening. Right now, however I want to shout at them to SHUT UP!! The coverage CNN has given that kook and so-called pastor from Florida who planned to ceremoniously burn copies of the Koran has given me a great big headache. The guy doesn't deserve 15 seconds much less 15 minutes of coverage for his hare-brained scheme. Important news has gone unreported because of this creep. CNN is questioning its coverage, on-air, which simply prolongs the agony of this boorish spectacle. They spend prime time trying to figure out the repercussions of this idiot crackpot's planned protest and their role in it. Enough, already! If this guy gets so much free publicity, what's to stop thousands more weirdos from trying the same thing? Where has judgement and common sense gone? Presenting this kind of reprehensible nonsense as news is unseemly at least and incendiary at worst. I am embarrassed that top American officials have been forced to point out the idiocy and dangers of this guy's idea. I refuse to believe that Americans "outside the Beltway" have so little understanding of the rest of the world and our country's place in it. It doesn't require a college degree to understand that insulting someone else's beliefs is just plain wrong and particularly contemptible coming from someone who claims to be a member of the clergy. Can he not see that his small-mindedness equals the mindset of those he is vilifying?

Is this a reasonable gripe?

We do a good bit of banking on-line. Just recently, a service fee of $2.00 was added to our statement. I didn't remember doing anything different or asking for some special service, so I checked it out (on-line) to make sure it wasn't an error. Turns out I was charged for clicking on a check I'd written to see a virtual image of it. Banks no longer return paid checks with your monthly statement, so this is the only way to make sure they end up where they belong. Cost me two bucks to click on a link to view a recently cashed check! Interest on our accounts is paultry at best and now we're being nickel-and-dimed (dollared?) for something as simple as clicking a link! Am I being unreasonable or is the bank?

Street Diplomacy

While history [hopefully] is being made across the street at the State Department, a bit of history was made in front of our building today. During forty years living in D.C. I've never seen Hasidic Jews in my neighborhood. A black van loaded with several men in side locks, black hats and long, black coats parked and its occupants ate their lunch. I admit little knowledge of this conservative, Jewish group. However, I do know they wear layers of traditional garments. The temperature today is in the 90s with equally high humidity and unrelenting, searing sunshine. Seeing these men standing in the sun and sitting in a sweltering black van, I felt really sorry for them. Even while they took a break for lunch, they tried interesting passersby in printed materials, I assume, regarding their mission in D.C. Nearly everyone walked by without even acknowledging them. They didn't show any sign of resentment or anger. Then this gracious young man stopped and struck up a conversation. He was polite and engaged and I was so proud of him.