Friday, July 31, 2020

Multipurpose Rooms

As I folded up the floor mat and put away the weights, I looked around and sighed. Our little house has become even more cluttered than usual lately. Paint and rocks cover the dining room table, mason jars are stacked in the kitchen, spare pots and soil are piled in the corner of the deck.

It's hardly surprising, though. Since March this 2 bedroom condo has been our home, but also our offices, our gym, our art studio, one of our gardens, our meditation space, our theater, and our kitchen, cannery, and bakery.

I guess that's pretty impressive for 1180 square feet!

Thursday, July 30, 2020

Tomatoes, Hot and Heavy

A friend recently informed me that tomatoes have a hard time ripening when the temperature is over ninety. I had never heard such a thing, but that certainly explains all the stubbornly green tomatoes in my garden. In fact, when I checked in on the garden this afternoon, the tomatoes that I picked were actually hot to the touch after spending several 90+ degree hours in the direct sun.

This hot, dry weather has affected my tomato crop in another way, too. When birds are thirsty, they just peck a little hole in one of the almost ripe tomatoes and drink the juice right out, leaving the poor tomato to rot on the vine. With both these adverse conditions going on, I have taken to harvesting my tomatoes when they are still a bit firm. A day or two in a paper bag allows the ethylene gas they naturally produce to ripen them, almost as nicely as if they had stayed on the vine.

And so it was that late this afternoon I found myself hauling 12 1/2 pounds of produce the three quarters of a mile from my community garden to my house, and although the sweat was literally dripping from my brow as I climbed the last set of stairs to gain our stoop, I was only thankful that I have been working out lately!

Wednesday, July 29, 2020

Production Design

"Was it buggy?" I asked my friend Mary when she told me the other day that she had recently been to Roosevelt Island to walk its boardwalk and trails.

"Not really," she answered. "It was a pretty good walk."

I thought of that conversation when we were trying to think of a place to take Lucy and her pal Beckett while we were watching him this morning, and so after picking him up at 9 AM we turned the car north on the GW Parkway and made the quick trip to the island.

It was a little more crowded than I expected it to be on a hot summer morning in July, and there was a lot more noise than usual, too. Somewhere chainsaws and chippers were ripping up fallen trees, and we were startled by several white pick up trucks rumbling down the unpaved trails. Even so, by the time we made it around to the back of the island things were quieter, and it was easy to keep social distance from the other pairs of visitors and their dogs. Continuing on, we had the upper trail to ourselves until we made the turn into the memorial itself. There we found all the pick ups and park workers converged, and we paused to make sure we could pass at least six feet from the nearest crew.

A friendly workman smiled at the dogs. "There's a lot going on here today!" he reported cheerfully. "President Trump gave us the word that he wants to pay a visit here!"

All of the activity suddenly took on new meaning.

"We are even filling the moats and fixing the fountain to run," he told us.

"Wow!" I answered. I couldn't remember the last time any of the water features had been running. "When is he coming?"

"Who knows?" he shrugged. "They won't say. And you know the worst part?" he asked. "Nobody will be allowed here to see the park when it's all fixed up! Not even us! You can bet the secret service will see to that."

"I'm sure it will look great, though," I assured him. "And I guess we can all get a look at it on TV."

He seemed unconvinced, but he laughed. "You all have a good day."

"You, too!" I replied, "And thanks for all the hard work!"

Tuesday, July 28, 2020

All in a Summer's Day

Sometimes I sit down to write my daily post and nothing comes to mind. (Okay, that actually happens a lot!) Usually, if I leave and return to the task, I'll have an idea, or at least a concept, or a snippet of conversation to report. Today, though, nothing worked, and it seemed like the long days of summer vacation paired with the limits of Covid might get the best of me. Nothing happened today! I concluded with frustration.

One of the great benefits of writing every day is the record I have created, and it occurred to me to review my posts for this day, July 28, since I began my blog. Perhaps I might find inspiration in the past.

In 2009 I was on Mt. Lemmon in the Catalina Mountains just south of Tucson, where the temperature was 115. The temperature at the top was 79.

In 2010, I was in Ely, Minnesota, just outside the Boundary Waters and home to sanctuaries for both bears and wolves.

In 2011 we paid a visit to the Newseum at the end of one of Josh's summer staycacations with us. I'm pretty sure that was the summer of the Segway, tour, too, and Madame Tussauds, and the Capitol, and 2 movie marathons (Marvel and Potter), and the great hamburger crawl.

In 2012 I baked up a summer tart with produce from my garden.

In 2013 we caught Baz Lurman's version of The Great Gatsby at the Draft House.

In 2014 I took Isabel on a hike in Great Falls NP. I had just returned from San Francisco, and Heidi was still there at a conference, but fortunately? I brought that beautiful NoCali weather with me. It was low 80s and no humidity.

In 2015 I was recovering from my colonoscopy the day before, but fortunately I had elected to take the sedative, and only enjoyed "the best nap you'll ever have."

In 2016 we were on the road from DC to ATL, taking Richard and Annabelle home after their summer visit.

In 2017 we were in Atlanta hanging Krispee Kreme donuts from a broomstick for a little friendly eating contest between Richard and Annabelle.

In 2018 I was scootering around the Tidal Basin. Birds were new and all the rage, and as Josh put it so accurately, way more fun than you think they will be!

Last year we were moving into the condo in Rochester, MN that would be our home base while my mom received treatment at the Mayo Clinic. It was a stressful time, but the place was great, and even though it let me down later, I grew to love the city, too.

And this year? I went to the garden before 8 this morning, had waffles with peaches and blueberries when I returned, walked the dog with Heidi, painted some rocks, did a workout, meditated, and went to the pool. Tonight we are having homemade pizza for dinner.

It's been a good day, after all.

Monday, July 27, 2020

A Cure for the Cleaning Lady Blues

We had finished a few miles walking around DC with friends, but a quick check of the time told us that our cleaning lady would still be at work dusting and vacuuming if we went right home. The cool air conditioning washed over us as we debated our next move. "I wish we knew a good place to take Lucy swimming," Heidi said.

"What about that dog beach in Annapolis?" I reminded her, punching the query into the map app on my phone. I discovered that it was only 35 minutes away, and so we headed east toward Quiet Waters Park. It was nearly 100 degrees when we got there, but the path to the river was wooded and shady, and most importantly, short. Soon we joined a half dozen other dog owners on a sandy shore of the South River.

A light pleasant breeze blew off the water and a pair of Osprey scolded us from their nest on an old piling out in the water. Lucy bounded into the river immediately, splashing with the a couple of Golden Retrievers, a cute black puppy, and three labs. She spent a good half hour fetching a stick, and when we could tell she was finally tired we returned to the car.

I had spotted a seafood market on the way in to the park, and since they were advertising lobster rolls for lunch, we had to stop. A pound of jumbo lump crabmeat and a couple of lobbies later, we were on the road home, with no doubt that our house would be clean and that we would make the trip again soon.

Sunday, July 26, 2020

Postcards From the Pandemic

"I need 2 noodles to float now!" one of our neighbors laughed this afternoon at the pool. "It's that quarantine weight gain!"

"I know what you mean," another neighbor replied. "At first I was pretty good, but the longer it goes on I'm like, Salad? Um, no! Where's the ice cream?"

"I like to call it the Covid 15," her friend agreed. bit ruefully, "but I'm afraid it's getting pretty close to 19."

Saturday, July 25, 2020

Where They Are Planted

I always have an assortment of herbs and flowers growing in the eight hanging baskets that sway gently on their hooks in the breeze out on our balcony. I have a few pots on the decking as well, mostly herbs, but sometimes lettuce or beans or sunflowers grow out there, too. This summer I added marigolds, portulaca, and snapdragons, the same flowers my mother grew every year in our garden when we were kids.

In dry weather, the baskets and pots require daily watering, and even with the rain we've had the last few days, I've been out there pruning and weeding and dead-heading. It's more of a joy than a chore, though.

It was my mom that showed us the magic trick of finding the seeds in the flowers, and ever since I was a little girl, I have relished snapping the dry blossoms from the marigold plants and plucking them apart from their base to reveal the half-inch seeds. Likewise, I love the tiny pods on both portulaca and snapdragons that burst with a satisfying crunch to release a thimbleful of teeny seeds into the palm of my hand.

It always seems a shame to waste such potential, and so more often than not, I open my hand and cast the seeds into the wind, wishing them luck where ever they may land, and wondering a little bit why the world is not more full of flowers.

Friday, July 24, 2020

Out of a Hat

We were walking the dog through our neighborhood this morning and chatting aimlessly about this and that. "You know what I haven't seen any of this year?" I said to Heidi. "Rabbits!"

She nodded thoughtfully.

"Even with all the walking we've been doing, I haven't seen a single one." I shrugged. "Some years there are so many, and others? No!" I shook my head. "I wonder why?" But before we even had a hypothesis, we were on to all the fruit trees in this particular stretch of the neighborhood. Peaches, apples, or pears seem to grow in almost every yard.

And so we continued pleasantly on our way, with one random observation after another, until we had looped around and were headed home. Turning a corner, we were confronted by a huge rabbit hopping our way, right down the sidewalk. We stopped, and the rabbit did, too, almost as if to say Abracadabra! before disappearing beneath the low branches of a fig tree.

Thursday, July 23, 2020

Post Pandemic Plans

Right around the time everything around here was closing, They started putting up signs in a newly-constructed building down the street that a Silver Diner was coming. To be honest? I'm not a huge fan of the place. I'm not a huge critic, either, though, and I understand that they have made an effort to locally source some of the ingredients for their mostly cooked from scratch menu, so that's a good thing.

And there's something about the place, maybe how close it is or how normal it seems, that makes me fantasize about walking down there for breakfast on Saturday, or stopping in after a run for some well-deserved meal. Bacon and eggs, burger and fries, milkshake-- I'll have it!

So every time I pass that way in the car, or on a walk with the dog, I note the progress. The Opening Summer 2020 sign has never faded or changed, in fact it was joined by a Now Hiring poster a few weeks ago. And just yesterday, I noticed that they had taken down the window wrapping, and there were actual people moving around in the classic chrome interior.

"They're going to open soon," I told Heidi.

"Would you actually go?" she asked.

"No way!" I answered. "Not until a vaccine." I sighed. "But then?" I continued. "I'm going every weekend!"

Wednesday, July 22, 2020

Another Break in the Weather

The western sky looked ominous as we headed out to run a couple of errands. Brigades of steel gray cumulus clouds seemed to be marching toward us. By the time we headed into the grocery store,  clouds like dark mountains towered up and up thousands of feet and gray wisps swirled just above our heads.

"That looks like it's trying to form some rotation," I said to Heidi as the glass doors whooshed behind us. There were not many other shoppers, but we all stopped when we heard the first rumble of thunder, because it sounded awfully close. Heidi and I were in the water aisle when the store went completely dark on the next crack. We could hear rain pounding on the roof as the emergency lighting flickered and then came on.

All the refrigerators and freezers remained dark, though. "I don't know if the registers will be up to check us out," I worried.

"At least the music is back on," Heidi laughed, and she was right; You Had a Bad Day bopped out of the ceiling speakers as we made our way to the front of the store.

There was no one in the self-check area, and every single monitor read Lane Open, so we went ahead and started scanning our groceries.

"Is that open?" an employee called from the service desk incredulously. "Is it really working?

We gave her the thumbs up, and soon everyone in the store was coming our way. We finished bagging our goods, and pushed the cart towards the only unlocked doors. It looked like a typhoon on Gilligan's Island outside, and stranded shoppers were huddled much closer than six feet from each other as they looked out in dismay.

"Let's wait this out in by the doors in Produce," I suggested to Heidi, and so we did, standing by the locked entrance, checking the weather on our phones, Rain!, looking for a bit of a break in the storm.

15 minutes later it was still raining really hard, but I'd had enough of waiting, so we made our way out to the breezeway, and I made a dash through no longer torrential, but merely drenching rain to the car where... the door wouldn't open!

My fob did not unlock the door either by touch or by pressing the button, and so I made another wet run back to where Heidi stood, and we returned to the store to problem solve. Eventually, I remembered that the fob has an emergency key within it, and I went back out into the rain, opened the door, silenced the alarm, and started the car.

Twenty minutes later, we were home and dry again. None the worse for wear, and not even a little bit annoyed, we watched the storm through the windows, eyes relaxed in the muted gray light. The walls and walkways were washed clean; the trees and plants seemed a little battered, but also plumper and greener. It's been a hot, dry summer, and any break is kind of a relief.

Tuesday, July 21, 2020

A Break in the Weather

"I heard there might be thunderstorms this afternoon," the lifeguard said casually as he passed us on his way around the pool to check the skimmers. He was almost successful at hiding a little grin, but the corners of his mouth and his eyes gave him away.

"I heard that, too," I said encouragingly.

"I'll get off a little early if it happens," he confessed.

"I know," I told him. "Fingers crossed!" And I meant, too, because so far? He's my favorite lifeguard this summer.

He nodded and smiled broadly as he continued on his way.

"I guess thunderstorms are like little snow days for lifeguards," I said to Heidi, who was a lifeguard for years.

"Hell, yeah!" she answered.

Monday, July 20, 2020

Watch the Birdie

There were only a few folks at the pool last evening when a young robin fluttered in. Still in that awkward adolescent phase between fledging and adult, its plumage was a bit of both, kind of mottled and tufty. "Is it sick?" asked our neighbor as we watched it hop curiously around the deck.

"Nah, it's just young," I shrugged.

A man swimming laps on the side nearest the little bird caught its attention, and soon it was scurrying up and down the edge of the pool, keeping pace with the swimmer. When he stopped at the ladder, the robin stopped, too, leaning in to get a better look. "Shoo, now," the man said as he climbed out of the pool, waving the curious critter aside.

But the robin was undeterred, and it followed the guy over to his chair and watched him towel off from a few feet away. When he stretched his legs forward and turned his attention to his phone, his new friend was not to be ignored. It flew right over and landed on his knee, much to the delight of everyone else at the pool, who had been watching the amusing drama unfold.

"Social distancing, bird!" the man scolded. "Give me six feet!"

Sunday, July 19, 2020

Hydrotherapy

There was a time when the events of the world held a lot of fascination for me-- news, documentaries, true crime, talk shows, etc. on film, TV, radio, podcast, you name it-- they were usually my preferred form of entertainment.

That is not so these days. Instead I seek shelter from the sordid stories of people and their missteps. I don't want to know who killed who, who called who what terrible slur, or who blames who based on what facts have been reported and disputed.

I just want good old fashioned escapism in stories and activities. Unfortunately, when it's 95 degrees outside, and Covid-19 numbers are on the rise, escape doesn't seem like much of possibility. I think I'll go water my garden and float in the pool.

Saturday, July 18, 2020

Saturday Evening Post

I spent my day puttering.

In the kitchen I fed my sourdough starter, made a levain for bread, and another for some raised muffins with peaches and berries.

In the attic, I organized the Halloween stuff (don't ask!), sorted my seed starting supplies, and tossed a few things that haven't been used in years.

On the back decks and front stoop, I pruned, watered and fed the hanging and potted plants.

In between, I changed the batteries in some flashlights, painted a couple of rocks, did a little online shopping, some reading, some writing, some journaling, a set of abs, a short kettlebell workout, and in a few minutes? We're off to the pool.

Classic Saturday, right?

Friday, July 17, 2020

Ghost Town

At 8:30 am we had the National Mall mostly to ourselves, with the exception of a few joggers, so it was still the perfect place to meet up with friends to walk and walk the dogs. This time our group veered to the left past the Washington Monument and picked up the trail circling the Tidal Basin just before the MLK Memorial.

There was a lot of flotsam, mud, and goose poop on the walkway, so we opted to go through the FDR Memorial, which was nearly deserted. A few people were doing some sort of photo shoot near the statue of Eleanor, but no one waited in the bread line, and we had the president and Fala all to ourselves.

Continuing on our way, we noted the empty cricket field, and crossing the Ohio Street Bridge over the inflow, we passed not one tourist on bike or foot, and when we arrived at the Jefferson Memorial, we could have climbed the stairs and stood alone with the 19 foot sculpture of that complicated Virginia man on its pedestal of Minnesota granite, but we chose to walk on instead.

And then it was past the abandoned paddle boats, and the closed doors of the Bureau of Engraving and the Holocaust Museum, and back onto the Mall where the sprinklers were set on jet, casting rainbows in their spray and keeping America's front yard green.

Thursday, July 16, 2020

When I See It

We shared our pool time with a little boy today who had tons of energy and absolutely no volume control. As such, it was easy to offer my informal professional educational evaluation. "That kid is extra," I told Heidi as we treaded water in the deep end listening to his endless narrative about water taxis, bandits, and climbing Mountain Everest. I was borrowing one of my friend and fellow teacher's favorite terms for those students who are over the top, usually with a bit of self-regulation challenge tossed in.

Heidi hadn't heard the expression, but she appreciated its accuracy. "I like him, though!" she declared about the boy paddling and shouting in the shallows.

"All the more proof!" I told her.

Wednesday, July 15, 2020

Wicked Heat

I set my phone in the shade at the garden this afternoon, out of the way of the sprinklers as I watered and weeded. I kept my airpods in, though, and listened to a podcast as I worked. Right in the middle of an appreciation of Naya Rivera, the actress who played Santana Lopez on Glee, the audio abruptly stopped. The sun had moved to where my phone was and it had a too hot to use error message that I've never seen before.

As my phone cooled off, I continued to think about the character of Santana, though. Like Regina, the evil queen in Once Upon a Time, she was a complex villain with a well-developed heart and soul, which made her redemption in later seasons of the show moving. I appreciated that she was gay, and identified with all the teenaged heartbreak that went along with her sexuality, and I found her happy ending to be one of the most gratifying. And so I was genuinely sad when I heard that Naya Rivera had drowned.

Checking my phone, I found it sufficiently recovered to use again, and this time I put it in my pocket where I could keep it safe, but not before I put on my Santana playlist.

Tuesday, July 14, 2020

Like Something In July

We went to the pool today, which is a thing we do every July, but not quite the way it is this summer.

First, we had to make an online reservation, for according to the square footage of the pool and deck, only 15 people are allowed at a time to ensure the proper distancing. Then, we had to bring our own chairs, which wasn't a problem, especially since I got the throwback, made-in-the USA webbed lawn chair for my birthday, which weighs in at under 5 pounds. Still, it was one more thing to carry.

When we arrived, the lifeguard asked for proof of our reservation, something I wasn't prepared for. Fortunately, I had the confirmation email on my phone, and waving it his way proved to be enough. There were only six people there, but the way they were spaced out and the fact that 2 were kids made it impossible to ask to remove the divider so that we could swim laps. So we swam the short way in the deep end, until someone wanted to go off the diving board. Then we just treaded water until the whistle for the safety break tweeted, another new phenomena at our little pool.

Even so, sitting in our chairs waterside in the shade with a nice little breeze drying us off felt almost like a regular summer day. Almost.

Monday, July 13, 2020

Distance Explaining

A friend and colleague texted with a question about our choices for returning to school in the fall and their consequences as related to family leave.

You can request distance teaching for any reason, I answered, but if they deny you and you can't return to school because of child care, then you would have to take leave. But in that case, you wouldn't be doing any teaching, you'd just be on leave. If you think distance teaching would work best for you, then you should request it, and then have a plan B.

Thanks, he texted back. I forgot how good you are at explaining things LOL

Thank you, I replied, but remember, explaining *is* my job.

Sunday, July 12, 2020

Now and When

The farmers market was not where I left it.

I had decided around 10:30 this morning to lay my recent, negative, open air shopping experiences aside and check out the larger, more established produce market a couple of miles from my home. The hope was that a combination of time into the growing season, more vendors, organization, and people on vacation would make the trip both more profitable and less unpleasant, but the green space where I have shopped for years was empty. Fortunately, as I drove around, I spotted the canopies and tents of the market just across the pike, so I parked, put on my mask, and walked over.

And it was better organized and more bountiful. I waited on colorful dots painted at six foot intervals, first to enter and then to shop. Everything I wanted was available, along with one thing I hadn't planned on. "What are those pink beans back there in the crate?" I asked the young woman who was bagging my heirloom tomatoes.

"October Beans," she told me, "they're kind of like pinto beans,” she explained.

“So they’re shell beans?” I clarified with a note of excitement in my voice, for in the last few years I have come to prize the fresh version of those beans we usually get canned or dried. The sweeter flavor and creamier texture of them is so much more satisfying than their preserved versions, which is really not that surprising. I guess I just never considered them to be real vegetables. My bad, fresh beans! Please accept my apologies.

So I bought a pound of the October Beans, and I left the market with a spring in my step. Crossing back over the space where the farmers usually set up their stalls, I imagined the scene a year from now, when things would be more as they have been in the past: shoppers strolling through and handling the wares they wanted, musicians playing, memories of face masks and painted dots fading into the background.

Back in the present, I shelled those beans the minute I got home. They were gorgeous inside and out, pink and cream swirling on pod and bean alike; their beauty made my heart sing. This is real, I thought as I worked, and I knew it was true.


Saturday, July 11, 2020

Meditation Station

One advantage to spending so much time at home is that we reorganized our upstairs deck. No exaggeration: I've spent more time out here in the last two months than I have in the last 21 years. It catches the sunrise, it's shady in the afternoon, and it's almost always breezy up here in the trees.

I can read, write, listen to music, or watch the clouds float by, Spending a little time out here can be very centering, and these times call for some serious centering.

Namaste.


Friday, July 10, 2020

How I Spent My Quarantine

A social media group I belong to asked members to post an image that was emblematic of the time they have spent sheltering at home during this COVID-19 crisis. The photos and memes were entertaining: time with family, sweatpants, Netflix, home gyms, yoga, foster dogs, gardens, knitting, and wine seemed to be the predominate choices.

As for me? I didn't participate, because I just couldn't condense the experience, even in fun, yet. (There's that growth mindset!) Plus, who knows? I could start knitting or foster a dog any day, once my sourdough is baked and my painted rocks are scattered, that is.

Thursday, July 9, 2020

The Maine Idea

It wasn't on my radar screen. A friend invited me up to her place in Maine, but although I politely thanked her, I never really intended to go. Until... I spent the better part of the summer teaching summer school and shoveling plaster and lathe into a wheelbarrow, pushing it up to an open window on a makeshift ramp, and shoving it into a dumpster below with a rake. After five weeks of that? A 14 hour road trip seemed like a great idea.

That was 25 years ago, and it was true love from the beginning. A simple search of "Maine" on this blog will turn up many love letters to the mountains, ocean, granite, and spruce of the northeastern most state in the union. Since then, I have made the pilgrimage every year (or two, in dire times) for a week or two of cool breezes, smooth rocks, hiking, and lobster. Once? I even went in January, and I spent both my 40th and 50th birthdays there.

So it seems damn near impossible when I check my calendar that it has been four full years since last I set foot in Vactionland. And yet, there you have it. Fingers crossed, I'll be back there next summer, and until then I'll keep making those lobster rolls, pausing at any stand of balsam or pine along the local trails, breathing deeply at any hint of cool breeze, and collecting those smooth rocks.

I miss you, Maine!

Wednesday, July 8, 2020

Looking Up

We set off on another urban hike today with the intention to explore a little neighborhood not too far from our home, but one we had never been to. And it was kind of an adventure; we saw two things that are very rare in our county: a condemned house and, a few blocks away, a vacant lot, all of this within sight of the gates to the country club.

And what about that private property? Maps say that pedestrians may travel the access road through, but the signs on the brick pillars bracketing the entry way explicitly state otherwise. In the end, we turned around and headed home by another route, one that included another rare sighting.

There, above the classic summer cumulus clouds, was a wispy cirrus cloud with a rainbow at its center. It turned out to be a circumhoriztional arc, also known as a fire cloud or a rainbow cloud.

As we walked home the cloud drifted and changed shape, but the rainbow stayed. 

Rachel Carson wrote in Silent Spring that, "Those who contemplate the beauty of the earth find reserves of strength that will endure as long as life lasts."

I'd like to think she's right; I have a feeling we may need to tap those reserves in the coming days.

Tuesday, July 7, 2020

Senioritis

I was stoked when I finally got my passport renewal in the mail a couple of weeks ago. Even though I have no plans for international travel, the past 10 months have been the first time since 1975 that I couldn't hop on a plane and fly out of the country whenever the opportunity presented itself. But I was busy in Minnesota in August, back to school in September, Back to Minnesota in October, and on to the holidays in November and December, and so on.

In short, I just didn't make the time to get my photo taken. So when the UPS store reopened in phase whatever of the pandemic, and I happened to be there dropping off a return package, I seized the opportunity and a quick, maskless picture snapped. Truth be told, I didn't love the photo, but who actually likes their passport picture? So, I printed the form, stapled my picture, wrote the check, put my old passport in the envelope and sent it off, acknowledging the advisory on the State Department website that there are delays due to Covid-19.

Imagine my delight and surprise then, when last week a package arrived from the passport office. Hooray! I cheered as I tore it open, only to discover a polite letter informing me that I had forgotten to enclose payment with my paperwork. I could have sworn I had written that check, but I took the whole experience as a sign to get my photo retaken, which is exactly what I did today, right after leaving the DMV (where I successfully renewed my license and got a REAL ID!).

The new picture was a little more to my liking, and upon returning home, I gathered my passport, the application, replaced the old 2x2 image with the new, and whipped out my checkbook to make sure I completed the process this time. And that is where I found the check I had written before, dutifully recorded in the register, but still attached to the book, by far the most egregious of all my senior moments to date.

But, fortunately? Easy to remedy, AND that new picture!

Monday, July 6, 2020

Let's Get Real

My driver's license was set to expire at the end of June, and the DMV would not let me forget it! Throughout the spring I received reminder after e-mailed reminder. The trouble was, the DMV had closed all of their locations in response to the COVID-19 crisis. When at last they rolled out some limited office hours, by appointment only, none of our service centers up here in Northern VA were open yet. And still the no-reply messages came reminding me to renew my driver's license!

 Finally, I was able to schedule an appointment for July 7, just a week after my ID became invalid. Technically, the governor extended all DMV documents for three months, but tell that to Safeway where they scan the barcode to see if you are of age to buy beer, no matter how many laugh lines you can point to around your eyes.

Starting in October, airlines will require REAL ID for anyone planning to travel, and my new license will be verified to use that way as long as I bring the required documentation with me to my appointment tomorrow. Like most things bureaucratic, the directions were several pages long and not as clear as I would liked. Even the one-page overview was a bit complicated in its explanation of required documents and list of "Most commonly used documents," so I set aside some time today to gather my paperwork so I'll be all set when I put on my face mask and head over to the DMV not earlier than ten minutes before my appointed time.

Fortunately, I had read the list before and I knew that, since my passport was expired and out for renewal, that I would need a copy of my birth certificate, which I ordered a few weeks ago from the DC Vital Records Department. I also knew right where my social security card was, and then it was only a matter of setting aside the mortgage statement and the power bill when I paid them this month. (That's right-- I don't have paperless delivery! I also still get the newspaper delivered to my door. What a dinosaur! You'd think they would sell me some beer at the grocery store based on those two facts alone.) Anyway, I think I've got my 
One proof of identity
One proof of legal presence
Two proofs of Virginia residency
• Two from the primary list, or
• One from the primary list and one from the secondary
list
One proof of your social security number, if you’ve been
issued one
Current driver’s license if you are applying to exchange one
issued by another U.S. state, territory or jurisdiction for a Virginia
driver’s license
and hopefully, I'll have a REAL ID sometime tomorrow morning. Otherwise, I might have to call on the Blue Fairy.

Sunday, July 5, 2020

From Coast to Coast and Around the World

If you read my 8x8 series last week, you know that I'm a fan of both lists and the 70s, so it shouldn't be surprising that from time to time I like to tune to the 70s on 7 station on the satellite radio in my car, especially on Saturdays when they replay an entire edition of Kasey Kasem's American Top 40. They choose an episode from the current week, but in some year of the 1970s.

As I listen, I reach back in time and try to place myself where I might have been when the playlist was new. It's often pretty hard to figure out what was going on during some random week of nineteen seventy whatever, but not so yesterday. The date was July 4, 1970. I was 8 years old and my family walked down the street and around the corner to watch the town Independence Day Parade.

It was hot and the sun was shining in my eyes uncomfortably when I noticed my parents chatting with two strangers, a couple who, it turned out, had just moved in across the street from us. When the parade was over, our new neighbors invited us over for a cold drink.

Their house had air conditioning, which was a novelty in New Jersey back then, and they had the curtains drawn to keep the refrigerated air in. They also had wall to wall carpeting, and I'll never forget the cool, dim, silence that greeted us upon entering their home for the first time. As my eyes adjusted to the gloom, it was clear that they did not have any children-- everything was cream and white, and there was nothing of interest to my brother and sister and me, so we sat stiffly on the couch next to my mother. The men drank beers, and the women had wine, but the only thing they had for us was ginger ale or diet ice tea. I picked the latter, and immediately regretted my choice after the first saccharine sip.

We didn't know it then, but these folks would become some of my parents' dearest friends: playing bridge and drinking together almost every weekend, double dating for the church charity balls and casino night, celebrating our birthdays, trick or treating with us on Halloween, and adopting one of our cat's kittens. And when their first child was born a two years later, he spent his first Christmas with us because his mom was visiting his dad who was stationed in Okinawa for the year.

Over the next fifty years we would visit them in Jacksonville, NC, Monterey, CA, and Bangkok, Thailand. My mother would move to Virginia Beach, VA when she split from my dad, because they were living there, and my sister, brother, and I, and eventually even my dad, would all follow. We lived in two different houses, right down the street from them. My sister and I babysat their kids, and we took their son to his first concert.

Like the long and winding road the Beatles sang of in the single that was number four that week, our common story will never disappear, but it first hit the charts on July 4, 1970.

Saturday, July 4, 2020

Plane Old Planes

My dad was a guy who could tell you what kind of airplane it was that was flying over your head. He would point to the sky and say 707 or L1011 or DC9. Maybe it was because he worked for the airline, but it might have been why he worked for the airline; I’m sorry to say I never thought to ask. Still, as members of an airline family, we kids could identify the planes at the gate as we walked by the huge plate glass windows, and we always asked what kind of a plane it was before we left for any trip.

Back then, the popular new kid was the L1011, a wide body luxury plane with a lounge and a bar in first class, but the queen of the fleet was definitely the 747. Truth be told, I spent many transoceanic hours crammed into a coach seat on a 747 (thinking of airline seats now though? the width of the seat and the legroom make that experience seem almost first class, or certainly Business, AKA “Ambassador” in TWA speak.) I also spent many hours in both business and first class, thanks to the airline industry's pre-deregulation professional courtesy policy. By any measure, HRH 747 took me a lot of places I wanted or needed to go.

Even so, I don't remember the last time I saw one in person before tonight. That's when, up at my garden to water, came a rumble then a roar as Air Force One (or the plane that is AF1 when the president is aboard) lumbered low in the sky on its way to lead the 4th of July flyover. She was followed by a number of vintage crafts from as far back as WWII, a bunch of helicopters, some jet bombers including the stealth bomber, the Golden Knights, the Thunderbirds, and the Blue Angels. It was quite a show, and I enjoyed it all the way as I walked home. We were right over the flight path.

Heidi was unimpressed. "Am I paying for this?" she asked in irritation, but I couldn't agree. In the words of Tattoo on Fantasy Island, The plane, the plane!

Friday, July 3, 2020

Well Read

I listened to and then watched a recording of five of Frederick Douglass's descendants reading excerpts of the speech he gave in 1852 called, What to a Slave is the Fourth of July? I was familiar with this scathing rebuke to Americans delivered 8 years before the Civil War began, but I was reminded of how wrenchingly relevant those words are today.

The readers were all kids between the ages of 13 and 20, and their voices perfectly fit Douglass's words, strong and rightfully condemning. I was spellbound listening, and I felt almost as if I knew them, and then I realized that they reminded me of so many students I have taught over my career-- smart, passionate, critical, and strong.

I can't wait to hear those voices, again.

Thursday, July 2, 2020

I Don't See It

Several folks have mentioned lately that I resemble my mom. They are referring both to photos and my in person appearance, and I take it as the compliment it is meant to be: all who have said so knew and loved her.

But I really wish I saw it too.

Wednesday, July 1, 2020

What Time Will Tell

Tonight, after a 3 month delay, our writing group is finally going to meet. Responsible citizens we, the plan is to sit outside at a distance of 6 feet dining on individual take out meals. Before we adjourned for the pandemic, our annual Slice of Life Story Challenge celebration was scheduled as the next meeting. It is our tradition to read back through the March writing we have all done and select a favorite piece for each of the four of us.

Truth be told, I think we all love this session because the pressure is off-- the writing is already done. I know that's true for me. I also love it because it gives me the opportunity to read and reread a month of pretty great writing from each of my friends.

And that's what I did this morning; I spent a while revisiting our posts, blog by blog, day by day. Wow! What an extraordinary month to document! On March 1 it hadn't even entered anyone's mind that the corona virus might impact school, let alone close down the entire nation. By the next week, we were considering time away from our buildings with uncertainty, and on March 13 school closed for what we thought would be a month.

Through the next weeks we wrote of distance learning and quarantine, at first a novelty but soon a steady, wearing grind fraught with worry for our students, until on March 24 the governor closed schools for the rest of the academic year.

Re-reading our writing from then, I'm struck with how unaware we were, like children waving on the beach as an enormous wave looms behind them. Even at the end of the month, how little we knew of what was yet to come. It seems like years rather than months since the challenge ended; the crawl of time has been filled with so many enormous events, and I can't help but wonder what I might think when I look back on my writing in another three months.