Foggy Bottom Tonight

the Kennedy Center

Water Color Sunset

As I was putting together a second family-tradition-Jello-mold -- because I left out a key ingredient in the first -- I caught sight of this sunset. It's a little blurry, but then so am I after a day of cooking and preparations.

Happy Thanksgiving, y'all!

A Special Request

To my loyal readers, I humbly request your prayers and good thoughts for a blog buddy of mine. She has struggled for years to hang onto a pregnancy. Today, she is in the hospital because of pre-term labor. Her little bundle of female joy is a tender 23.5 weeks along. Megan and Steve are a loving, deserving young couple and will make wonderful parents. As Thanksgiving inspires us to ponder what we are grateful for, please add Megan and Steve to your prayers so that they can enjoy next Thanksgiving with a beloved little girl.

Way to go, Mr. Mayor!

For the one or two of you who sometimes read my ramblings, you may recall that last February I was involved with a fender bender in Washington Circle. I had no witnesses to attest to the fact that I was sitting still when a Metrobus clipped me, so I was found at fault. (The bus driver had a most energized witness.) The officer who issued my citation did not mark the amount of the penalty on the ticket, so I dutifully mailed in a minimum payment of $15.00. Shortly thereafter, I received a warning threatening all kinds of bad stuff if I didn't pay the full amount --$55 --within a few days. Not wishing horrible things to befall me or my car, I sent in a check in that amount, hoping everything would now be hunky-dory. Two months ago I received a letter from the D.C. Treasurer's office saying that they had discovered that the DMV owed me $15.00. WOW!! The check arrived today! If Adrian Fenty continues to reinvigorate and reinvent our government into an efficient, viable entity, I hereby promise to campaign for him when he runs for re-election. He has restored my faith in the D.C. Government!

"Pay it Forward" -- an early example

Dear Sir: Your situation grieves me and I send you herewith a banknote for ten louis d'or. I do not pretend to give such a sum; I only lend it to you. When you shall return to your country, you cannot fail of getting into some business that will in time enable you to pay all your debts. In that case, when you meet with another honest man in similar distress, you must pay me by lending the sum to him, enjoining him to discharge the debt by a like operation when he shall be able and shall meet with such another opportunity. I hope it may thus go through many hands before it meets with a knave that will stop its progress. This is a trick of mine for doing a deal of good with a little money. I am not rich enough to afford much in good works, and so am obliged to be cunning and make the most of a little. With best wishes for your future prosperity, I am, dear sir, your most obedient servant. B. Franklin [1784]

16 November 2007

This date fell on a Friday last year. The day before I had driven down to Mom and Dad's to spend some time with them. Dad was bed-ridden by then and no longer wore the eyeglasses that had been a permanent fixture on this face. He was staring out their bedroom windows. What he saw, I'm not sure. I commented on the high winds that day and said it would be a heckuva day to go sailing. He responded by nodding his head. He loved white-knuckle sailing. The next day I picked-up Patty from the airport and drove us down to Solomons for what would be our last day with Dad. The sun shimmered off the colorful leaves and we talked about everything but what we were facing. Coming from the Midwest, the leaves had already blown off the trees where Patty lived, but they were still brilliantly colored and attached here. That day in Mom and Dad's cottage in Solomons seems so short now. Pete and Janet were already there with Mom when Patty and I arrived. Mom was nervously fluttering around. That evening, Janet was the first to notice that Dad was close to the end of his struggle. Mom and Pete joined her, then Patty and I went in, holding our breath. When Dad was alive, I would never have dreamed of lying on their bed with him. As he gasped his last breaths, I crawled across the bed to hold his hand and once more stroke his crewcut head. We all voiced our love for him and our permission to let go. Tears were freely flowing and tissues were held to noses like dams. Mom gently closed Dad's eyes and Pete listened for a heartbeat. All the dams burst at that point and we let out all the fear and sorrow we had held in for weeks. As I held one of his big hands I thought about all the times they had comforted and constructed strong family bonds. At 6:15 this evening, I'll think about that day last year. The tears eventually will stop, but it's only been 365 days . . .

Monday Morning Blues

You know you're over the hill when you . . . . . . have to change your hair color on your driver's permit; . . . start looking for foods with high fiber content; . . . notice weird hairs growing out of your chin; . . . keep the thermostat set at 80 year-round; . . . no longer care about being called Ma'am; . . . appreciate and seek-out "senior discounts"; . . . shudder at the sight of the first snowflake; . . . select shoes for their comfort rather than style; . . . are offered a seat on Metro by a middle-aged woman; . . . cherish your thermal underwear over Victoria's scanties. Note: I am not yet over the hill, but some of these ring true already! ;o/

Simple Gifts

There is so much nature to enjoy this time of year. In addition to the glorious leaf coloring I like to watch the changes in light and cloud formation during sunsets. I took these over a period of a few minutes last evening.

Elephant Stew

When one works for a nonprofit that is known for feeding survivors of a variety of disasters, one's humor becomes slightly warped due to the massive quantities of supplies required to shelter and feed hundreds, sometimes millions of people. The following recipe is evidence of this. It came from a friend/coworker who had just returned from several weeks working on famine relief in Mali. She lost lots of weight because their rations were fish, water and more fish. During one of those long evenings after an even longer work day, someone came up with this recipe. (No elephants were harmed!) * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * The following will provide enough food for a mass-care facility when long-term feedings will be needed. The main problem will, of course, be the availability of the ingredients and the cooking time. 1 elephant, med. to large 300 Lbs. potatoes 200 gallons water 150 Lbs. carrots 50 Lbs. onions 35 stalks celery, leaves included 5 Lbs. parsley 10 Lbs. flour to thicken 1 rabbit* salt, pepper and other seasons to taste In large pots, bring water to boil. Use this time to start cutting up elephant into two inch cubes. Divide equally and add to pots. Boil for 2-3 days, until tender then add the vegetables, flour and seasonings. Cook for 3-4 hours more until vegetables are crisp/tender. Serve while hot. *Note: If this looks like it will not serve all the people in your shelter, you may add the rabbit. Be particularly careful however, because some people object quite strongly to finding a hare in their stew!

Oh! What a Beautiful Morning!

The sun may be struggling to break through thick clouds, but there is sunshine in my heart this morning. A majority of Americans proved their hearts are in the right place during yesterday's election. The jubilant celebrations of fellow Washingtonians at 14th and U Streets triggered tears and laughter at the same time. The tragedy that literally ignited that neighborhood 40 years ago was equal in magnitude to the thrill of electing of our first African-American President. I also watched the throngs in Chicago's Grant Park. During the summer of 1968, it was a place we were drawn to then from which we had to escape when the tear gas and batons came out. What a difference . . . May God continue to bless America and her new leadership. We are a special People and yesterday's election proved that we are capable of re-embracing our best values and qualities.

Amistad

On Tuesday I drove down to Solomons to spend some time with Mom. She took us out for a lovely lunch, then we drove around and headed toward a nearby marina. She and Dad were serious sailors, so she didn't mind. It was incredibly windy and chilly, especially near the water.

Two, very tall masts came into view before we reached the marina. We drove down to the water's edge to check it out. Mom wasn't dressed for the blustery weather so she stayed in the car. I wasn't going to let a bit of a breeze stop me from taking some pictures!

A Baltimore Clipper out of New Haven, Connecticut was tied-up along the warf. Her name was Amistad. A chill ran up my spine remembering the story of the slave ship of the same name.

I chatted briefly with a female crew member who was reading a book. Then the skipper came up on deck. This Amistad was on her way to an event on the Eastern Shore, but ran into such strong head winds, they decided to wait out the wild weather. You don't often see white caps in a harbor! Yeah, it was one of those days when the Bay and Patuxent were practically whipped into froth. This Amistad is an 8 year old replica of the original. I probably would have chatted longer with her amiable skipper had I not feared blowing off the narrow walkway into the drink! Before I made my way back to my warm car, I snapped a few pictures of this truly gorgeous specimin. The raked/slanted masts are characteristic of boats on the Chesapeake. I particularly like the wooden rings that carry the sails up the masts. Classic Skipjacks have the same kind of rigging. If you're ever down that way (it's a straight shot down Route 4), you must stop in at the Calvert Marine Museum and just wander around the tiny little town. Solomons Island is a spit of land between the Patuxent River and Chesapeake Bay, so the views are spectacular -- AND -- it's usually windy for all you fellow kite-flying-types.

Quit Poking Me!

Driving back home from Solomons today, I took this picture through the sun roof of our car. I drove under several huge flocks of birds, but these were taking a rest.

The Baby-Boomer Conundrum

We were born following the end of World War II and a few years following the end of the Korean Conflict. When married and unmarried couples were finally reunited after months or years of separation nature took its course. BOY! did the "Greatest Generation" procreate!! None of us Boomers could have stopped this, so that's why there are so many of us. Life was simpler and full of promise in those years, so our parents kept on making little tax-deductions. As for our generation's procreation, it was effectively curtailed by two, major paradigm shifts. One was the Women's Movement which insisted that no woman needed to marry and have babies to be complete. She could find fulfillment in the corporate world, once she had battled and over-come sexual stereo-types. We started wearing pants suits and stopped wearing bras. The struggle for equal pay for equal work is not over yet, but we opened peoples' eyes to the injustice. At the same time, women fought against women in ideology wars. We lost the middle-ground. The second shift was more pandemic. Child-bearing became anti-social because of a world-wide population crisis. We took to heart the constantly repeated message that the Earth could not continue to sustain us if population growth didn't slow down. Birth control became a responsible choice to save the world. Others of us were unable to make babies because of medications given to our mothers that, much later, proved to be harmful to fetuses and genetics. Also, there was no thought given to the idea that alcohol, tobacco and caffeine consumption might harm a fetus, or anyone else for that matter. Health studies were aimed at men. Scientists didn't consider whether or not the results also applied to women, which we now know they don't. The associations between genders and generations was quite different when we were kids and young adults. Rebellion against the status quo took on new sincerity as we realized the Earth was a small, fragile planet and that our way of life was damaging it, perhaps irreparably. Forty years later, the situation is worse, but a certain amount of complacency seems to be hindering effective action. There have never been simple answers, but there ARE answers. I'm proud to say that a fellow Boomer, Al Gore, has almost single-handedly broken the back of complacency; forcing world leaders to reexamine their interests and roles in preserving our planet. I'm not looking for a pity party. Rather, I want to point out to our detractors that there are many things for which we are blamed that were/are out of our control. Baby Boomers are no better nor worse than any other generation. There are just more of us.

Happy Birthday, Nan!

You sure look young for your age!