Almost There

Today is my 29^th wedding anniversary. Not exactly a milestone -- those come in five and ten year increments. Still, it is significant because it denotes the day we legally and formally recognized what we’d known all along -- that we were made for each other.

We still marvel at how we came to each other. I moved to D.C. the summer of 1971, fresh out of college and a Chicago suburb. Spouse arrived during the summer of 1973, fresh out of the western oil fields of his native Iran. For a few years, he tended bar four blocks from where I lived, at the time and I worked about the same distance from where he lived, at the time. Both of us have tried to remember whether or not we ran into each other back then. Various dates took me to both of the places he worked, but I don’t remember ever seeing him and vice versa.

It wasn’t until he was between jobs and accepted a part-time gig where I was working that we met face to face. In truth, he was getting fed-up with life here. He missed his extensive family back in Iran and needed airfare to return home. Fate intervened in the nick of time.

When he first walked in to the elegant old mansion that housed the headquarters of the organization I worked for, he was wearing a plaid shirt, brown cords, acid green sneakers and a big grin. Though his hair was thinning, it was dark and framed his face rather nicely. My goose was cooked.

What had been a dumb waiter across from my office door had been converted into a small elevator years before. It was the type that had a normal door which opened to a brass gate, thus requiring two hands to use it. Spouse-to-be was tasked with moving file cabinets and boxes from an upper floor in the main building to an annex next door. Naturally, I helped with the elevator doors whenever the occasion/opportunity arose.

That man had and still has so much energy and drive! He isn’t a big, hunky guy. He is lithe and muscular like an athlete. Later I learned that he had been a provincial and national soccer champion in Iran. In D.C., he enjoyed occasional pick-up games with other immigrants in various parks around town.  The following was taken on stunningly perfect early Spring day on the Ellipse during such a game.   [Yes, that's the White House in the background.]

After so many years together, we sometimes ask each other where we might be if we had never met. Neither one of us can imagine such a scenario. During particularly trying times, I would imagine one or both of us thought we could do without the other. Heaven knows we’ve had to make huge adjustments and real sacrifices to accommodate each other over the years. Nevertheless, we’re in it for life.

Happy Anniversary, my love. It hasn’t always been easy, but it’s always been worth it.

Isolation

Until my ears went wonky from an infection 12 days ago, I didn’t give much thought to my hearing. Having always had tinnitus, I’d learned to block it out. Other than that, I have excellent hearing. Now, however, the lack of it has become hugely significant.

I haven’t ventured out of our apartment since Spouse took me to the E.R. last Sunday. Vertigo makes me stagger like a drunken sailor and I still have no strength from two weeks of low-grade fever and virtual fasting. Of course, it would be nice if I’ve lost weight, but I’d gladly give that up to get my hearing back to normal.

A positive development I discovered last evening is that I can croak out a few words. At least now, if someone phones, they won’t think I’m rude or playing games by not talking. The cicadas and locusts are still playing their Rhapsody in A Sharp Major, so I’m not too worried that eventually my hearing will return.

The isolation of low hearing is worse than I ever imagined. I miss being able to hear the kettle when it boils, Spouse’s key in the lock when he comes home, kids chatting in the hallway and all the other little sounds of life.

Closed-captioning on TV is helpful, but often confusing and frustrating because speakers talk too fast for the captioning to keep up with them. Everything about life is so much faster now. If a person doesn’t have all her senses up and running, she’ll miss out.

I don’t mean to complain. My problems are miniscule in comparison to what’s going on in the rest of the world. Being somewhat confined by this temporary health dilemma has given me more (too much?) time to think.

My beloved nephew/godson Alex is hearing impaired. Thanks to state of the art hearing aids, he lives a pretty normal life. Of course, his awesome family deserves more credit than they’ll ever get.

The medical community at Children’s Hospital, here in D.C. kept him alive and supplied the platform on which he could build a life. His family and therapists took it from there. His ingrained exuberance for life keeps him going and his intellect is truly amazing.

Having said all that I wonder if, when he takes out his hearing aids to go to bed, does the silence bother or comfort him. Being impaired really bothers me, but I suspect Alex just goes with the flow. He’s such a cool little dude.

Inspiration from cough drops.

Thanks to a previously mentioned sinus CATASTROPHE, I've been consuming large quantities of cough drops, trying to tame a strident, decidedly unladylike hack!


Usually, I go for the big bag of blue, individually wrapped drops near the drugstore cash registers. Having run out, I asked Spouse to pick me up a bag. He was happy to especially considering that he hasn't been getting much sleep lately. [When I figure he's been tortured long enough, I leave our cozy bed and take up the recliner in the living room. I'm sure the neighbors on that side really appreciate this. Not.]

During long hours trying to snatch a little sleep, I frequently reach for my Kindle. A wrapper from the previous night's attempt at rest was lying on top of the Kindle. Only then I did I notice that Spouse had gone all out and invested in Hall's Cough Drops. Wow - he really does love me!

Noticing some sort of printing I hadn't seen before, I unscrunched the wrapper.

People: Hall's cares about us!!

Like pats on my back, I was told to "Go get it" -- "You got it in you"-- "get back in the game" and "keep your chin up." Under the Kindle lay yet another paper pep-talk which I eagerly unscrunched to glean it's inspirations. Here's what I read: "Let's hear your battle cry" -- "bet on yourself" -- "the show must go on. Or work." -- "put a little strut in it."

How very thoughtful that Hall's thinks enough of it's coughing, sore-throated, customers to offer even more help to get us back on our feet! Just as soon as I can make a sound other than (       ) I'll give out with a big ole YEE-HAA and strut m'self raght back into the game!!  Yep!  feelin' like Dolly Parton!

Crickets and Cicadas in February

Ever since the advent of a nasty sinus infection last week that's pretty much all I can hear -- inside my head. Flocks of sparrows make themselves known from time to time, chirping to the rhythm of my pulse.

I have never known life without tinnitus which started before I was old enough to remember ear aches. For a normally carefree little girl, who lived and breathed the outdoors, the intrusion of ear infections were cruel and extremely painful. Mom tried every known treatment at the time, including dropping warm ear oil into the affected ear. Eventually, the accumulated oil temporarily robbed me of hearing. Considering how I loved to compose music on my Mom's piano, this wouldn't do.

I remember climbing onboard a train with Mom to go into Chicago to see a specialist. It was such a shock and kinda embarrassing when he syringed out clump after clump of groadies. I had become used to the muffled sounds around me, so everything suddenly became too loud.

My early middle ear infections were supposedly due to short eustachian tubes. At the time, I must have been thinking, well, dummy doctor, why don't you just stretch them! Apparently, that was an idea whose time would never come.

So, here I am decades and decades later feeling and hearing like my head is in a bucket, filled with billions of trapped crickets, cicadas and sparrows. Thank goodness for good novels to distract me from those overbearing, rude critters!

Oh, and happy St. Valentine's Day. If you could see and hear me right now, you'd understand how very much I appreciate Spouse's unfailing love. It ain't been pretty 'round this neck o'the woods!

How to Get Rich Quick

People have been trying to come up with schemes to make money easily and quickly for generations. Many have failed or didn't pan out, e.g. Ponzi schemes. A heretofore private group strategy recently has been revealed and is causing quite a stir. This select group has a membership just over 500 men and women and is headquartered right here in the Nation's Capitol!

Yes, ladies and gentlemen you, too can take advantage of this legitimate stream of income, funded by American taxpayers. Simply get yourself, a family member or best buddy elected to Congress. Yes, indeedy, this method works like a charm and has brought previously unthinkable wealth for those smart enough to take advantage of it.

Earmarks are a key element in this scheme. Yeah, I know that sounds like some sort of birth defect, but it is actually a very effective and proven way of steering millions of tax- payer dollars to benefit friends and family and even yourself.

Historically, earmarks have enabled average Americans to improve their standards of living, property values, personal incomes and so much more. All it takes to benefit from this scheme is to have a member of Congress tag on to a piece of legislation your desired earmark. This might cost you a campaign contribution but if you want to have the river next to your waterfront cottage cleaned and protected without having to shell out huge amounts of your own wealth, it's worth it. Why, you could even get a bridge or airport built for your own convenience even if no one else thinks it's needed. Seriously! It's been done!

Another sure bet is getting to know as many lobbyists you can. They represent every imaginable business and pleasure industry as well as foreign countries and have bottomless pockets of cash. They are very discreet when distributing baksheesh. It's all done under the table at a fine, Washington restaurant, watering hole, golf club, or an exclusive resort is some exotic locale. It's all about using your new-found influence in the most lucrative way.

Another advantage of befriending lobbyists is that they will actually help you and your staff write legislation. Yeah -- free editorial help! I think this is part of what has riled- up the Occupy people. They'd like a piece of the action: maybe working in the legislative or investment industries which sometimes are confused because of their similar ethical standards. Sadly, these protesters weren't savvy or loose enough to play by the rules necessary to get those jobs. [Personal ethics can ruin employment opportunities.]

So . . . what are you waiting for?! There are billions out there just waiting to be earmarked and it's so simple! Oh, and don't worry about actually having to work hard. That's what Congressional staff are for. All you have to do is vote when it's time and applaud or scowl with fellow party members during Presidential addresses.

Count yourself lucky that there are only a few, diligent, caring and conscientious members of the Senate and House who might try to get in your way. They're out- numbered considering the complete Capitol Hill Package. Lobbyists, special interests groups, wealthy contributors, and so on have become indispensable to members of Congress. Whatever a member needs, they can get at cost or with a nice discount! It's as easy as scratching your own back ;-).


[Drat -- my tongue is stuck in my cheek!]

Dumb Luck

I have no idea how I accidentally got my old blog page back, YIPPY!!

I was having so much trouble getting it fixed on my own p.c. that I tried Spouse's laptop and voila -- I hit something right!

The new blogger format still baffles me to a degree, but now I think I'll be able to figure it out and work with it.

D.C.'s World War I Memorial

Many D.C. government types are up in arms about Congress's desire to turn our recently restored World War I Memorial into a national one. Outcries to leave it alone -- it belongs to D.C. are misguided.

This could be a huge opportunity. Instead of another trouncing on our rights by members of Congress, this could be the stimulus we need to enlighten the average American to the fact that we have no voice in Congress. Think about it:

D.C. residents, who couldn't even vote for a local government, much less a national government, volunteered to serve that very same government. So many had their lives taken by disease and bullets in foreign lands. To have willingly sacrificed for a government that didn't recognize their citizenship as equal to every other American's smells of racism. I would go so far as to say it is like southern history textbooks claiming that slaves willingly served in the Confederate army!

Our elegant, dignified, tasteful little monument could be a centerpiece for an enlarged memorial. Stories about D.C. residents who fought, suffered and died for a government that did not fully recognize them (and still doesn't) could open eyes to a shameful truth.

It still shocks me when I hear how many people outside of this region don't know about the way D.C. residents are treated and mistreated by Congress. Some think that, living here, we have an unfair advantage. HA! They think every American can gripe to their senators and representatives to complain about anything and everything. More than half a million American citizens have one, non-voting delegate in Congress. Period.

Having said all that, I do not think D.C. should become a state. I know: that's heresy for some, but hear me out.

The District of Columbia is a unique territory. I believe that when founding fathers suggested designating it that way that they thought it would encompass nothing more than the federal enclave. Actual residents, other than slaves, and not associated with running the government, didn't enter their thinking. After all, members of Congress came to town infrequently and brought their own retinues of servants and slaves.

It is taking far too long to make needed changes in the governing dynamics of the District of Columbia. The U.S. Constitution needs to be amended, as it has been several times, to reflect new realities. One U.S. Senator and House representation according to the population formula is fair and way past due. Anything that can enlighten others about this injustice can only help. So. . .

Bring on the World War I Memorial additions AND be sure to tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth about D.C. residents' peculiar standing and the extraordinary sacrifices of our forefathers.

A Taste of Summer

As usual, Spouse and I did our grocery shopping on Saturday.  It really felt like winter because the previously warmish temps we'd been having were down into the 30s with a wind.

The first section we enter is produce.  We spend an inordinate amount of time there enjoying the colors and scents of fresh produce as we try to buy out the department.  This, time however, before we could get past the store's floral section, a bunch of yellow and peach colored roses shouted out to me.  Normally, I wouldn't be so weak-willed to splurge on something that will last only a few days, but something was different that Saturday.  Maybe they needed rescuing from their cooler; I don't know.  I just knew that I needed them as much as they needed me.

We continued picking and bagging our usual choices when, to my wondering eyes, I saw the produce guy loading a shelf with those absurdly expensive tiny, half-pints of fresh red raspberries.  Something snapped in my brain and I thought "to hell with the price, I must have raspberries!"  Spouse, half smiling, made a face like I was out of my mind, but into the cart I gently placed those "berries from the gods."

It was time for lunch when we returned home, so Spouse ate his beloved steamed broccoli, tomato and whole wheat toast.  I carefully opened the plastic box, gently plucked up a plump, red berry and placed it into my mouth.  The fragrance as it rose to my lips took my breath away and the feel of its sweet, round nodules against my tongue was sensuous.  When I finally released the juices from its plump, ruby red body by pressing it to the roof of my mouth with my tongue . . . . .  well, it was a taste orgy bursting with the pleasure of summer.  My raspberry lunch lasted a satisfyingly long time.

It is now Monday evening and the memory of this is still wondrously fresh.  I think every woman deserves to indulge in a little lascivious snacking during winter.  Don't you??

Still unbelievable after 30 years

We are enjoying a lovely, sunny day after a cold, raining one yesterday.  Not bad for a Friday the 13th.

Then I read the newspaper.

Thirty years ago, today, Air Florida flight 90 crashed into the 14th street bridge and the Potomac River.  Only five passengers and one crew member survived.  Others died in their cars on the bridge where they had been stuck in heavy, snow-slowed traffic.  The river was iced over which turned out to be a mixed blessing.  Survivors clung to pieces of debris and ice as an incredibly courageous U.S. Park Service helicopter crew flew dangerously close to the water to pluck them out.  An average guy, soon to be much heralded hero, Lenny Skutnik saw what was happening, scrambled from his truck, also stuck in traffic.  Unlike other observers, he lept into the frigid water to rescue a woman who was clearly in shock and would have drowned within moments.

We didn't learn all these details until much later.

I was working for a nonprofit women's organization at 17th and N Streets and walked to the restaurant where my then boyfriend was working at 21st and L.  Most everyone was caught off-guard by the quick accummulation of snow, so many of us were without boots.

When I staggered into the bar, people were blathering about a plane hitting the bridge and a Metro train crash.  I didn't believe any of it.  I'd been walking through a blizzard, in high heels across town in the tracks made by the few cars on the streets while all of was happening.

Spouse and I hung out in the restaurant until his shift was over then walked the 3/4 mile home.  Television stations replayed tape caught, by chance, by a TV news crew also stuck in traffic.  Tears still come to my eyes remembering that woman's face as she blindly tried to swim away from the crash.  Her eyes were huge with shock, but her determination kept her going until Lenny grabbed her a brought her to shore.

Thirty years later, I am very surprised that I can still feel the gut-twisting shock and disbelief of that day.  Makes me realize just how very lucky I am.

Wuzzup?!

Some diabolical being has taken hold of my blog!

Or it was a stupid mistake by yours truly.  More likely that's what happened when I tried to change something on its set-up.  Now, I can't get it back to normal.  It's dangerous when y'know just enough about computers to get yourself in trouble, but not out of it. . ..*sigh*  I'm tryin'.

First Snow

Calm After the Calm(?)

Here's part of the sunrise that followed last evenings lovely sunset. [The tiny, dark blip between the bare tree branches to the left is the statue on top of the Capitol.] Of course, the big obelisk is the Washington Monument.

It was an unusually quiet evening and night and the Old Naval Observatory across the street was nearly invisible in total darkness. Then I noticed that I didn't hear any planes flying into or out of National. Strange.

I wondered if it had anything to do with what Spouse learned from chatting with airline pilots at Gravelly Point (a pubic park close to the north end of the main runway). Pilots use the telescope dome on the observatory as a landmark when they're heading down the Potomac, into the airport.

Usually the American Flag is lit at night and soft globe lights circle a lawn in front of the building. Security lights add a glare, but overall, it's a pretty sight at night.

There was nothing in this morning's newpaper about a blackout either there or at the airport, so maybe my imagination got the best of me. Sometime during the night power was restored and all seems to be well with the world -- again.

Lovely End to a Lovely Day

Today brought welcome warmth and sunshine. Trees along Canal Road are beautiful even without their leaves. The twisting and fast Potomac is clearly visible. Curious deer hang out on the woody side of the road, a safe distance from speeding cars.

Walkers and bikers enjoyed the canal tow path. Serious bike-racers cranked away, impeding impatient drivers on the shoulderless, two-lane roadway. Not a totally terrible thing on such a gorgeous day. It was worth slowing down to enjoy the view!

Why the Scowl?

Why do so many celebrities look like they want to smash the camera and bite off the head of the photographer? What has happened to wanting to look pretty? This woman lives in a huge, hideously baroque penthouse where I'm pretty sure she never lifts a finger to cook or clean and can afford to have her nails done every week. I'm thinking the only conflict she has is trying to decide whether to wear diamonds, rubys, emeralds, sapphires or pearls. What kind of hardship could she possibly experience to look so angry? Do you think it might be because she's married to The Donald . . ...?