Come and Get Your Love

Hey! What's the matter with your head?

Putting one's classroom together again after dismantling it a couple  months back is not hard, exactly, but it can be time consuming. I'm not much of a linear thinker myself, and so all the little chores distract me, especially since my mind is on the million other things I need to get done by the end of the week.

Hey, what's the matter with your mind and all your sighin?

This morning, after I hung a few things on my wall I paused to take a picture of my newest piece of art, a framed print that a friend of mine gave me from her office when she retired last June. I meant to post it on Facebook so that she could see how nice it looked in my room, but that particular social media is blocked on the school network, so after a couple of tries I set my iPad aside and continued working.

Find it, find it, c'mon and find it

I had completely forgotten all about the picture when I got home tonight, but it was out there on it's own after all. My friend recognized her print right away, but below it hung the plaque I got for being teacher of the year back in 2006, and that got a few comments from current colleagues-- snarky at first, but genuinely complimentary in the end.

Rockin Robin

Tweedily deedily dee, tweedily deedily dee

In a year of many new technology initiatives for our school system, there is one that seems to have been embraced whole-heartedly by senior administration.

He rocks in the tree tops all day long

It's not iPads for students,

Hoppin and boppin and a-singin his song

and it's not getting the bugs out of our student information system.

All the little birdies on J-bird Street

Someone at the Ed Center seems to think that 140 characters is the perfect way to connect with students, educators, and families alike.

Love to hear the robin go tweet tweet tweet

#APSback2school

If I Could Save Time in a Bottle

The first thing that I'd like to do

Yesterday, I spent the last day of my summer vacation canning tomatoes and making pickles and kimchi.

Is to save every day 'til eternity passes away

Then Heidi, Josh and I went to Bill and Emily's house for a family dinner with them and Riley and Treat. There was grilled steak and succotash, all from the farmers market, with home made ice cream sandwiches for dessert. We stayed at the table talking long after we all should have been preparing to go to work and school this morning.

But there never seems to be enough time to do the things we want to do once we find them

At least, if summer can't last forever, we gave it a lovely send off.

Ground Control to Major Tom

Commencing count down, engines on.

We spent a lot of time at my leadership team meeting last week revising the vision and mission statements for our school. There was some confusion between the two; in general it was agreed that cultivating productive global citizens was a goal of our school, but whether it was the mission or the vision seemed hard to decide.

Check ignition and may God's love be with you.

At one point, a young teacher new to our team this year who had been silent all day spoke up. He'd been researching the terms on his iPad as we talked, and he volunteered that as he understood it, a vision remained static, but a mission was more short-term, and could and should change once it was accomplished. For example, you could say NASA's mission was originally to put a man in earth-orbit, and then President Kennedy changed it to landing a man on the moon. There were nods around the table as he spoke. This seemed to make sense.

I'm floating in a most peculiar way, and the stars look very different today.

"So, isn't our mission to help students achieve?" he continued. "And won't we know it's accomplished when we see their test scores?"

Planet Earth is blue, and there's nothing I can do.

Second Helping

We spent a couple of the precious hours of this last weekend of summer break at the movies this afternoon. In a fitting, book-end kind of a choice we saw Guardians of the Galaxy, the latest offering from the Marvel Universe. While I am not a dedicated fan of the comics I do like the movies, but there was actually a lengthy period of time this summer when I thought GotG looked too stupid to spend money on. When it opened a few weeks ago, I was quite shocked by the positive reviews which were only confirmed by my nephew, Treat.

Since then it's been on the list and a rainy day like this one was the perfect opportunity to go. It was pretty good-- to me more funny than gripping or exciting. One thing I admire about the Marvel movies is the complex canon that they pre-suppose and add to, but for the same reason, in every one of them I see I sense that there is more to it than I understand. Oh, each movie can be enjoyed on a superficial level as well, but I always know I'm missing something, and so the minute I get a chance I hit the internet to research all the winks and nudges.

I guess you could think of that as double duty, but in my mind?

It just adds to the fun.

A Blog Odyssey

People who know me know I'm a counter-- I like numbers. I think that's why it's easy for me to remember dates and years. I know all my friends' birthdays, their ages, the years they started work, how old their children are, etc.

But while I am a collector of figures, I am not a fan of "big data". I know that there are enough numbers out there to tell any story we want to, probably because I count other things as well-- pages my students read each week, hours spent in meetings, snow days used and unused in a year, miles in a hike, the elevation of the mountain we climbed, calories burned by walking the dog, and so forth. It's all interesting, and there are some meaningful patterns, but I don't fool myself that they are absolute or even objective.

Certainly you won't be surprised when I tell you that I have been counting blog entries as well. Oh, I have mentioned milestones here in the past, and I was well aware that there was a big one coming up. But I've been so absorbed this week in getting ready to go back to school and helping Josh do the same that p2k totally slipped my mind.

So, this is post 2001, just another statistic for anyone keeping track.

Three-Quarters Baked

I've met a lot of college kids over the past couple of days, and the more time I spent with some of them, the more I could see the former sixth grader in them. I felt right at home.

Often these days when I meet young people I figure out what year they started middle school, and then I mentally match them up with the kids I knew who are the same age. More often than not I don't get to see how my professional efforts are paying off down the line, and so in addition to being a fun exercise it allows me to imagine how my former students might be faring.

Today I'd like to think that many many of the kids who sat in my classroom back in September 2007 nervously anticipating the next stage of their school career are, just like all the kids I've met this week, finding out how amazing college can be and preparing for four fun years of learning and growing.

Getting There

Although I pride myself on being able to successfully navigate all the cities I have visited, I have not regularly taken a bus since I was in high school. These days, my main impression of a metro bus is something not to get stuck behind when driving-- there are soooo many stops!

But Josh is going to have to rely on public transportation to get him to and from his classes downtown, so today Heidi, he, and I traveled by bus and subway to the campus of GW University for his freshman orientation. As much time as he's spent here, he doesn't really know his way around, and although that will change in a hurry, we thought it would be a good idea to give it a try before classes start. 

I did plenty of research in advance and found the best routes and connections for our commute. Last evening, we all walked up the hill and scoped out the closest bus stops in our neighborhood. As we circled the blocks, all of a sudden it didn't seem like there were too many at all, and whether they were uphill or down, shaded or not, seemed very relevant. Already I had a new appreciation for commuter conveniences.

This morning, Smartrip cards at the ready, we headed out, timing our walk to the bus stop. I'll admit to a bit of a thrill when I saw that bright red metro bus turn the corner and roll our way. We boarded the bus and sat near the front, awash in yellowish fluorescent light. As we bumped through the neighborhood and onto the interstate, familiar sights seemed slightly different viewed from the wide tinted windows. I was a rider now.

In 8 minutes, as scheduled, we were at the Pentagon where we walked a few yards down to the metro. The Blue Line came in less than 10 minutes, and we emerged from Foggy Bottom station 8 minutes after that. Door to door, the whole trip took less than 45 minutes and cost about 2 bucks each.

There was a point in our journey, when standing on the metro platform, that I looked at Heidi and Josh and considered how far the three of us have traveled together over the years. I knew neither one of them had any clue where we were going once we got to the top of the escalator and they were not concerned in the least. They trust me to get us where we're going, and I felt proud.

Maybe a little too proud. As we waited, I rustled my itineraries and timetables officiously. "Good thing you guys have me," I said. Heidi raised her eye brows. I shrugged. "I mean, because I know where we're going and all."

"Really?" she said. "I think it would be easy enough to ask someone on the street if I needed to."

I gasped. Then I laughed. Such an approach would never occur to me, but she was right, of course. It would probably be very effective, maybe even as good as knowing just what to do ahead of time.

"What's so funny?" Josh asked. 

"Heidi and I are very different, but very complimentary," I told him, and relayed the whole exchange. "Take the best from each of us, and you'll do fine!"

Second Generation

To me one of the benefits of being a team leader and going in early for that meeting has always been getting a preview peak at the team list of new kids. After 21 years in the county both as a teacher and a resident, I've forged quite a few connections, and it's always interesting to see whose brother, sister, cousin, son, daughter, or grandchild might be in my class.

This year did not disappoint. As I was paging through the 120 info cards, I stopped on one. In retrospect, I can't say exactly what it was that caught my attention, but I spoke his name out loud, and the director of counseling who was sitting next to me, said, "Oh yeah, he's a cutie and his mom went here."

"What was her name?" I asked, and a few minutes later I discovered that for the first time ever I have the child of a former student.

I think they should have a name for that-- maybe, like the aunt or uncle, we could be great teachers, or better yet? Grand teachers. 

Dance Card

And just like that, it happens. After a fun day at the museums with Michelle and the kids, I have an all day meeting tomorrow at school, freshman orientation with Josh on Wednesday,  and suddenly the days seem so full that it's hard to fit everything in. Good-bye summer vacation.

He Called It

After dinner tonight Josh sat at the table and finished writing his thank you notes for the graduation gifts he received. His mom is only staying until tomorrow, and she made him promise to do this before she leaves so she can mail them off from home. As he worked, Heidi, Michelle, and I gabbed away.

"Finished," he announced and handed me a white envelope. I read the note and laughed, and then I winked at him and held up the card to show Heidi. It's a nice custom design with pictures of Josh and some if his art work.

"What do you want to do with this?" I asked her.

"I want to put it right up on the refrigerator!" she said.

Josh and I laughed. "What am I missing?" Heidi frowned until she opened the card and read it, then she laughed, too.

Following the sincere message of thanks, it said,  You'll probably do something cheesy like put this card on the refrigerator. Love, your new roommate Josh.

Eye of the Beholder

Considering refinancing the place, we had an appraiser come by today. Of course such a visitor forces you to see your home through someone else's eyes, all the flaws as well as all the improvements seem magnified in the moment.

The gentleman who assessed our condo was very friendly, professional, and courteous. He did have a bit of a habit of talking out loud as he made his way through the house, some of his comments directed to us, some not. He made sure to be complimentary of the upgrades and improvements we have made, but not overly so.

"I really like your kitchen," he said. "Nice cabinets! I see you kept the lighting, though." His remark was made in the most neutral of tones, but all I can think about since he's left is how to update those fluorescent lamps.

Simplifying

Realization of the month: 

We've been filling this place up for fifteen years...

Time to start drawing down.

Inquiring Minds

We had a couple of our kid friends over to the house to do a little tie-dying last week. Heidi has been looking after 8 year-old Savannah and 5-year-old Chase practically since they were born, back when their family lived in the next courtyard over from us.

A couple of years ago, right before their little brother Lincoln joined the family, they bought a house a little less than a mile away. Both older kids are in school, too, so we don't see them quite as often. Even so, summer projects accompanied by a trip to the pool are always fun.

Heidi and I like to think we have the tie-dying thing down, and it was all set up when the kids arrived, but there was a point before we began that Heidi and Savannah ran upstairs for something. Eying the work-in-progress that is currently our guest room, soon to be Josh's room, Savannah gasped. "That place is a wreck!" she said. "Who sleeps there? You or Tracey?"

"Nobody," Heidi told her. "We both sleep in the other room. We're getting that one ready for Josh."

Mind you, I had no knowledge of this conversation when a little while later, Savannah and I were cleaning up in the kitchen. "So, are you two married?" she asked me, "Or do you just sleep together?"

Calendar Girl

Running errands today I happened to see an academic year 14-15 monthly calendar for sale. For me, that particular school supply happens to be the first and most important thing I purchase each year, so of course I bought it.

Now, even though the kids don't report for nearly three weeks, and the first meeting of the year isn't for days, thanks to online resources and what-not, my calendar is good to go: it has the bare bones of the year all filled in the appropriate squares, and these events, joined by notations of field trips, birthdays, meetings, and tests will be the scaffolding of an entire school year.

I'll definitely admit to a bit of a thrill when I added those first items-- a new year is always an opportunity and a clean slate, but as I continued I quite merrily x-ed out first Thanksgiving and then Winter Break. After that there was a holiday, workday, holiday, conferences, Spring Break, workday, and the next thing you know, it was Memorial Day, promotion, and the last day of school!

Summer 2015 here we come!

Ambulance Chaser

And now news that Lauren Bacall has passed away. She, too, played a memorable role in my teenaged years. In the summer of '79 I think everyone in my family read her autobiography By Myself. It had recently been released in paperback and was a perfect poolside book detailing her hardscrabble early years, her lucky breaks in modeling, her inexorable romance with Bogart, the tragedy of his death, and her determination to go on in the face of her loss.

Even so, the book lost some serious steam after Bogie died, but I have been an admirer of Lauren Bacall since, albeit at a distance; perhaps it was her grit and growl that made it a bit uncomfortable to get too close. I do feel a loss tonight at hearing the news of her passing, and it occurs to me that I may have reached that certain age where losing those of personal note becomes much less irregular.

But no less sad.

Shazbot

For American teenagers living in Saudi Arabia in the 70s, the time spent back in the states during the summer was priceless for keeping up with pop culture. Even the re-runs of popular shows were new to us, and I distinctly remember catching up on Happy Days one humid summer night.

The plot revolved around Richie and a space alien who tried to collect him as a specimen to bring back to his planet Ork. I liked Happy Days, but I loved Mork-- that alien was hilarious in such a hyperkinetic way that we were still giggling about it a few days later.

Imagine my surprise and delight when I returned to the US for college and found that there was a whole show about Mork from Ork. Who could fail to love Robin Williams, so quirky, so manic? When I started teaching, his example helped me to understand the positive, creative side of ADHD.

Later, as his career waned and waxed and waned again, as frequently happens with the brightest performers, I understood that he was probably struggling with much more, and tonight as I began a blog entry about something else all together I heard the breaking news that Robin Williams was dead, and although the family is not disclosing particulars, they are saying he has struggled greatly with depression, especially of late. I wanted a good Mork quote to end this post, and when I searched, I found the following exchange between Mork and his "handler" Orson:

Orson: The report, Mork.
Mork: This week I discovered a terrible disease called loneliness.
Orson: Do many people on Earth suffer from this disease?
Mork: Oh yes sir, and how they suffer. One man I know suffers so much he has to take a medication called bourbon, even that doesn't help very much because then he can hear paint dry.
Orson: Does bed rest help?
Mork: No because I've heard that sleeping alone is part of the problem. You see, Orson, loneliness is a disease of the spirit. People who have it think that no one cares about them.
Orson: Do you have any idea why?
Mork: Yes sir you can count on me. You see, when children are young, they're told not to talk to strangers. When they go to school, they're told not to talk to the person next to them. Finally when they're very old, they're told not to talk to themselves, who's left?
Orson: Are you saying Earthlings make each other lonely?
Mork: No sir I'm saying just the opposite. They make themeslves lonely, they're so busy looking out for number one that there's not enough room for two.
Orson: It's too bad everybody down there can't get together and find a cure.
Mork: Here's the paradox sir because if they did get together, they wouldn't need one. Isn't that zenlack?

Yeah, that's totally zenlack.

Sweet Sorrow

Oy!

The great clean-out continues. Not simply content (or let's be honest, able) to empty the guest room for Josh's impending residence, our purge has expanded to every room in the house including the attic. Last spring I hoped to rid our home of forty bags in forty days, but friends it's going to be more like forty in fourteen, or fifty in ten now that the ball's rolling.

In general, my job has been paper and electronics. I've recycled hundreds of paperback books and filled several boxes to take to shred. It turns out I really don't need my pay stubs from 1999, or much else of the hundred pounds or so of paper that's all set to go. AND, I've finally come to terms with giving up my iBook lap top. Apple is kind enough to contract with a company who will recycle them for free, but first I must wipe the hard drive. With that in mind, I booted it up for one last time this afternoon.

It's only been a few years since our iPad/desktop combo has pretty much made that brushed stainless steel brick obsolete, but I smiled at the desktop photo of the Chesapeake Bay beach in November where Heidi and I stayed ten years ago, and there was a certain reflexive familiarity when my fingers brushed that cool metal touchpad. Scanning through the files to find what I wanted to keep was like opening a time capsule, and when I was distracted for a second, the screen saver started spinning an array of pictures I haven't looked at for years. It was an album of wonderful times in beautiful places with people we love.

Oh, I'll be able to put everything I want on a single flash drive (that's how dated it is), but today I felt a direct connection with the me who used to spend so much screen time staring at that 12 inch display-- the person who wrote every piece for the Northern Virginia Writing Project Summer Institute there, and most of my National Board entries. The online course I use with my students, Write Here Write Now, was largely created with that laptop, and the very first post of this blog was composed on its keyboard.

I know it's only a machine, and one that has been left behind by technological innovation, but I?

I am only human, and parting with this particular object makes me a little sad.

Good Reflexes

I was browsing my Twitter feed this evening when something very unexpected happened. I saw a tweet by Kelly Gallagher that actually made me want to go back to school. It was nothing meant to be inspirational, but simply a practical resolution grounded in a philosophy I happen to share. Whoa! As a result, I read a few articles, pinned a few links, and jotted down several ideas for the upcoming year.

I guess you really can't take the classroom out of the teacher.

Old-fashioned Work Ethic

My friend Mary came by today to borrow the hand sander. Seems as if she has a couple of Adirondack chairs in need of a new paint job, too. "That's fun!" I said cheerily.

"I'm not sure if I would call it 'fun'," she told me, "but it has to be done." She nodded out to the deck. "Yours look pretty good-- do you have any advice?"

I laughed because from that distance, they do look pretty good; the drips and dings and rough patches aren't noticeable at all. "Remember they're 'hand-painted'," I answered. "The imperfections are part of the charm!"

Unexpected Bonus

After painting? The elegant clean-up method of simply peeling the dried paint in a single, rubbery sheet from the paint pans the next day is weirdly satisfying.

Just sayin.

GoogleEDU

News today about a company course offered to Googlers on mindfulness and meditation. It's title? Why,  Search Inside Yourself, of course!

Arnold Palmer on Deck

Last week I received notice that I had to clear all the plants and furniture off our decks so that they could be repainted. While I appreciated the action, it was kind of a pain in the butt to find a temporary place for everything.

When I was 10 my family moved across the highway from our originally pink Levitt colonial to an authentic Victorian house with six bedrooms. Oh the place needed work, which is exactly why my mother wanted it, and she was up to the challenge-- stripping wall paper, knocking plaster off covered up fireplaces, painting, laying flooring, building closets, re-upholstering furniture, you name it, in the three short years that we lived there, that house was vastly improved.

To a child, perhaps it was the porches that were the most different from our tract home. Where once we had poured concrete and brick, now we had wide gracious outdoor spaces with white trim and painted gray floor boards. One of the things I remember most was the side porch. Three feet above street-level, it ran the length of the front room and the dining room, but with no stairs the only way to get out there was through a door in the dining room. I liked to pretend that it was the deck of a ship and I was the captain, and in the summer I spent afternoons out there in the shade reading and drinking ice tea with lemonade.

When the painting was done here, I was a bit dismayed to find that they had whitewashed the formerly stained floor planks. That just seemed like a bad idea, so off I went to my local home improvement store where I purchased a gallon of porch gray. After patching and repainting the Adirondack chairs white, today I turned my attention to the floors, and now I have my own gracious space.

Ice tea and lemonade at the ready-- I'll need them tomorrow.

Galvanized

"So, when are you guys planning to bring Josh down to move in?" Heidi asked Michelle yesterday.

"Next Sunday."

Wait. What? I gulped and did some figurin, calendar-wise and other-wise.

"Next Sunday, or the one after?" I asked.

"Oops! One week off," was the reply.

So, there's a little breathing room, but...

This is happening!

Preservation

Oh that we could capture this summer and put it in a bottle! The weather has been delightful, the garden generous, the time relaxing and fulfilling. But pickled cucumbers and canned tomatoes are not the same as their fresh-picked brethren. As good as they are, they are meant to be put away and enjoyed after this season has faded. Until then, let's enjoy every bite of summer.

Scar Tissue

My sister-in-law told me the other day that she thinks of the school year as kind of an open wound, and summer the time when it heals. Ouch! But, if she's right, I have finally reached the stage of my summer vacation where I have sufficiently recovered from not only the school year, but also all the fun of trips and visitors that followed it. I'm finally ready to get a few things done around the place.

Trouble is, there's quite a lot to do. Years ago, I left my annual summer to-do list on the counter when we were off to do something fun. When my sister-in-law came to feed the cats, she happened to see it. "You'll be lucky to get that done in ten summers," she told me later. She was right.

Just last night it occurred to me that a new strategy might be appropriate. As usual, I have a loooooong list of things I have to do, I'd like to accomplish, and things I like to do. Next to each item I put "finite" or "on-going". I also noted any task that was likely to take a significant amount of time. I figured the hardest part is usually starting, and knowing you can't finish something quickly is a great excuse not to begin. I also considered that (in the absence of a drop-dead deadline, which is always motivating) I do well with a regular schedule, so maybe it would be a good idea to plan to work on some of these chores for an hour a day until they get done. Few things are actually all or nothing.

So, I've canned a couple quarts of tomatoes. I've glued and sanded the deck chairs and put the first coat of paint on one. I've been to the attic and later to Goodwill. I've cleared out two drawers and one bookshelf in the guest room for Josh. I've read over my novel, found my notes, and added to them. I've played Words with Friends with my mom, Ruzzle with my sister, and Draw Something with Mary. I've written my blog, read a magazine and three chapters of Sally Ride's biography.

The day is not done, and despite the fact that our home improvement store had shelves and shelves full of mums-- tight budded and very green, but still-- there are still three weeks left in my vacation and plenty left to do.

Correction

All week I've been thinking about those rings in the desert. How could it be Burning Man Festival when that doesn't even start for another three weeks? Plus, did we really fly that far north over Nevada? And, what are those rectangle things on the left? Still, I tried uploading my photo for a Google image search, and it turned up nothing. I had previously tried several search terms with no luck.

"Who knows what it was," my brother told me; "the government has a lot of weird shit in the desert."

I had almost (almost) forgotten about it when I went to check Heidi's flight last night. I wanted to see exactly where she was so I used a site that shows the live progress of any commercial plane. As I watched the tiny icon creep across the map, I wondered if I could find our flight path from 10 days before. It turns out that I certainly could, AND I could also view that map as a satellite image.

As before, my touchstone was Mono Lake, an unmistakable landmark that I saw just a few minutes after the strange array. I followed the neon green dotted line backwards through Nevada scouring the image for anything that might possibly give me a clue. The only concrete signposts were the Grand Army of the Republic Highway and a town called Tonopah.

Finally I searched for "concentric rings nevada desert tonopah" and at last I found what I was looking for. It turns out that what I saw was the Crescent Dunes Solar Plant. It isn't up and running yet, but when it is, it will be the world's most advanced solar station.

What looked like circles from the air was actually more than seventeen thousand ground-mounted mirrors called heliostats. They collect solar energy and focus it on that central tower, which is full of salt. The heat melts the salt and it goes down to power a steam turbine, which generates electricity. The molten salt also stores energy in the form of heat, functioning like a kind of battery that can continue to produce steam and electricity for up to ten hours beyond when the mirrors are collecting sunlight. It is projected to fully power 75,000 homes a year.

Cool! Evidently, there's a lot more burning out there in the desert than just the man.

Girls' Day Out

I went with a couple of friends today to visit Hillwood Mansion, the former home of Marjorie Merriweather Post which is now a museum. Heiress to the cereal fortune and a shrewd business woman in her own right, Post was famous for her entertaining and her collections of Russian Imperial art and French decorative art. Hillwood, just one of her many properties, represented the perfect intersection of these pursuits.

Married and divorced four times, Post was by all accounts an independent woman who signed an agreement with the Smithsonian turning over the entire estate upon her death. In many ways the property was renovated, landscaped, and improved during her lifetime with this ultimate use in mind. There are many gardens, a greenhouse with thousands of orchids, and the house is still full of antique furniture, paintings, tapestry, porcelain, crystal, silver, jewels, and clothing. Our complimentary one-hour tour took 90 minutes, the guide admitting that we would see a small fraction of what the place had to offer.

Before the tour, as we stood in the grand entry hall beneath the rock crystal chandelier, I fiddled with my bright yellow entry tag, Fabulous! it read, and looked around at our fellow guests. Many had joined us from the short tour we had just taken of the cutting garden. Of the thirty-five or so people waiting among the portraits of Russian royalty, there were perhaps 5 younger than 40, and there were no more than a handful of men. All the tour guides were women over 60. I thought back to the visitor center-- all the folks there were also women. This sure is a hot spot for middle-aged ladies, I laughed to myself.

After Marjorie Post's death in 1973, Hillwood was taken over by the Smithsonian, just as she'd arranged, but in two year's time the impossible logistics of running such a property away from the National Mall became apparent, and ownership of the estate reverted back to her family, who was not caught unprepared. Post had left a 10 million dollar contingency plan in her will to convert Hillwood to a private, non-profit museum should the need arise. Today the estate is run by a board of trustees with the mission to delight and engage visitors with an experience inspired by the life of founder Marjorie Merriweather Post and her passion for excellence, gracious hospitality, art, history, and gardens.

A quick glance at the list of key staff running Hillwood reveals that the majority are women, as are 12 of the 17 trustees on the board. They cite their mandate as continuing Mrs. Post’s legacy by sharing the contributions she made in the fields of American business leadership; women’s studies; progressive thought; political history; philanthropy; community and social involvement; healthy lifestyles; Russian imperial art; French decorative arts; costume, jewelry and textile design and estate and garden design.

Fabulous! indeed.

Walking the Dog

Heidi gives Isabel a lot of attention, and since she's been away this week I haven't wanted our poor old dog to feel neglected. Not really the kissy-huggy type, I prefer to show my affection in a different way. Every day, I have taken Isabel for a walk in a new or favorite place. 

Certainly, the weather has been a blessing for late July; yesterday it did not go above 80, and so our jaunts have been most pleasant. On Sunday we visited Green Spring Garden, a place I had never been despite the fact that it's no more than 15 minutes from our home. The former site of a family farm from 1720 to the mid-1900's, it's a lovely property tucked away right off a major road. Oh, I left the historic house for another day, but we happily explored the ponds, wooded path, gardens, and the outdoor classroom. 

On Monday our destination was Great Falls, and in addition to a nice walk, we proved that dogs can participate successfully in selfies. 

Yesterday, we were off to another favorite local spot, Roosevelt Island. Isabel has been enjoying the trails there since she was a puppy. Back then, there was a little sandy beach off the main loop trail where we used to let her swim. It's a park rule that all dogs must be on leash, but we bent it knowing that she wouldn't leave the water until we made her. Even so, we still laugh about the woman who walked by with her own dog, properly leashed. "That would be fun... if it were allowed!" she said loudly as she pulled her pet away from our criminal influence.

And today, my friend Mary was kind enough to show us Kenilworth Aquatic Gardens, another National Park Site, but one I have never visited. The three of us spent a very nice hour meandering across boardwalks and dikes, admiring all the water lilies and lotus. The neighborhood surrounding the park is kind of sketchy, but you know what? 

Isabel didn't seem to notice at all.

Carnivores, Unite!

I will say this: The dog and cat are much more interested than usual in what's going down in the kitchen this week. Coincidence? I think not.

A Walk in the Park

The weather here has been unseasonably fantastic, almost Northern Cali-like, and so I took Isabel for a little walk out at Great Falls NP today. It was more crowded than I expected for a Monday, and most of the plates in the parking lot were local, lots of folks like me taking advantage of the pretty day.

Even so, there were stretches of the River Trail where it felt like we had the place to ourselves, if you don't count all the people right across the river on the Billy Goat Trail in Maryland. Right as we were about to take the carriage road back to the parking lot, the sky darkened, and a little while later I heard fat rain drops hitting the leaves in the canopy fifty feet above my head. Only one made it through before the storm passed, though.

Up ahead on the trail a group of kids from a day camp with their counselors were coming towards us. "What a cute dog!" exclaimed a couple of 8 or 9 year old girls.

"Thanks!" I smiled.

Behind the group two stragglers trudged along complaining to the counselor who was bringing up the rear. "We never do anything at Great Falls," one whined. "It's always just walk, walk, walk!"

When the Vegan's Away...

The carnivore will play! Chicken for dinner tonight, with pork and scallops planned for the coming days. I miss my girl, but it's fun to get back basics and put some old favorites on the menu.

Grand Illusions

It's always kind of thrilling for me when I see a movie that is set in a familiar place; somehow having been in the exact same spot as the characters are makes everything more vivid. Likewise, it's cool to visit a place that I recognize from film or TV. My hometown of Washington, DC is always in a lot of shows, and lately I've seen a few things shot in Atlanta, where my sister lives.

When we were in San Francisco, our plan to visit Lombard Street was actually foiled by a movie production. It turned out to be San Andreas, a disaster film starring Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson, something I probably never would have gone to see, but I might now. On the plane on the way home, I read something about the new Planet of the Apes movie, and it reminded me that not only is it set in San Francisco, but there's a large part of the story that takes place in Muir's Woods, which we also visited.

As a rule, Heidi will not go to see any movie where animals are in danger or distress, so we hadn't seen either of the films in this reboot of the classic series. (As an aside, she doesn't have any trouble with seeing the likes of Charlton Heston mistreated.) Heidi stayed in California for a conference, though, and so one of the things I decided to do on my own this week is to catch up with Caesar and his crew.

I watched Rise of Planet of the Apes this morning, and wow! That was the jackpot for a setting junkie like me. Isn't that the boardwalk at Muir's Woods? Look there's a Bay City Trolley! And I could barely even follow the action of the climactic battle, because it took place right on the section of the Golden Gate Bridge that I had walked on just three short days ago.

Movies can be deceptive, though; it's their nature. A quick search on the internet revealed that most of the movie was actually filmed in Vancouver, and that big scene at the end? Green screens on a sound stage. So, I'm a little deflated, but... I'm definitely in for Dawn of Planet of the Apes! Did you see those previews? They are all over Market Street, and this time? The redwoods are real.

Dear Brutus

Of the "geo" studies, I guess I find geography the more accessible. Once, when I was in college, I caught a ride from upstate New York down to Washington with a couple of geology majors. Oy! You should have heard those guys all the way down I-81 through Pennsylvania where the road has been blasted out of the Appalachian Mountains. It was like they were speaking a different language; they were all Shawgunk this, and orogeny that. I still have no idea what they were saying.

Even so, when I was flying across the country this week, certain geographical features made me curious about the geological forces that formed them. The plains are so flat; the Badlands so sculpted; some rivers are super bendy; some mountains look sheer and stony, but others look folded and crinkly. What makes them that way? If only geologists spoke my language, or I theirs.

I understand how the mountains of Maine were carved by glaciers, but San Francisco and Marin County are hills and mountains that seem to rise directly out of the sea, a phenomena that couldn't be more different than the wide beaches and wetlands we have here on the east coast. After spending a couple of days in northern California, it occurred to me to look it up, and I found that I actually do know how they were formed.

Sometime between 24 and 34 million years ago two tectonic plates collided and pushed those mountains right up. That plate boundary is still there today; we know it as the San Andreas Fault.

Perhaps there's hope for me, yet.

In the Desert

I've written before about what an inveterate window-looker I am on airplanes. Just this week, I've had the chance to spend over 11 hours with my nose smashed up against the double-paned plexiglass as I flew cross country not once, but twice.

On shorter flights, it's relatively easy to figure out where you might be, but that's not always the case once you get over a couple of hours. Throw in some cloud cover and you've got nothing more than educated guess about what that landscape below might be. When I was a kid, the pilot was always very informative, often pointing out landmarks below as we flew past them. I saw the Grand Canyon from the air long before I ever peeked over its rim in person, and I knew it was the Grand Canyon, because the pilot told me, dammit.

In later years, I was fascinated by those flat screens in economy class that traced our route across the Atlantic, but that was in back in the day when everyone had to watch the same movie when you flew, and then only if you rented the headset. These days, many planes have wifi, and with internet access you can track your flight on your phone. That was not the case with either of the 737s that I flew on this time. It was all up to me to reckon our location.

In general, I think I did a pretty good job, using the huge, obvious things to guide me. We didn't fly over the Grand Canyon, but I could see the Rockies and the Great Salt Lake. On the way out there, I also saw something really strange in the Nevada desert.

It was like this giant circle made of concentric rings with an opening in the middle that had some kind of tower or structure in the center. It was so odd that I took a few pictures of it with my phone so that I could identify it later.

Today I was planning to listen to some podcasts I as we flew. I had Wait Wait Don't Tell Me, some Slate Gabfests, and This American Life, and about an hour and a half in, I decided to catch up on the Writer's Almanac for today. Just as Garrison Keillor said, It was on this day in 1847 that the Mormon leader Brigham Young led his people into the Valley of the Great Salt Lake, I looked out my window, and there it was, the Great Salt Lake!

I gasped as Keillor continued, He was leading a group of Mormons from Illinois to find a new settlement in the West where they might not be bothered. Brigham Young had gotten sick during the journey and was being carried prostrate in a wagon. But when they reached the edge of the Valley of the Great Salt Lake, the wagon stopped as it came to a natural lookout point. According to legend, Brigham Young was able to describe the scene below without looking. Then he sat up and looked out at the valley and said, "This is the right place. Drive on."

To be honest, from my point of view, the place did not look that welcoming, but it was really cool to be able to make that judgment in person.

Following that amazing coincidence, I turned to the latest issue of Saveur Magazine that I had also downloaded before my trip. I was swiping through, reading with interest a tale of Swedish midsummer celebration and the story of a woman who lives on an island in the Penobscot Bay during the summer, when the next image I saw was...

concentric circles in the desert!

It was an article about the Burning Man Festival.

According to their website: Once a year, tens of thousands of participants gather in Nevada's Black Rock Desert to create Black Rock City, dedicated to community, art, self-expression, and self-reliance. They depart one week later, having left no trace whatsoever. 

Question? Answered!

A Thousand Stories

There's not a lot of air conditioning here in San Francisco, probably because the climate just doesn't call for it. Still, we were a little surprised to find our hotel room equipped with a ceiling fan and big, double hung windows that open wide. On the ninth and top floor of our circa 1910 building, our room looks east over a painted iron fire escape and a gorgeous city scape. During the day, the bay peeks out from between buildings, but at night the view is even better in some ways.

Last night after we turned the lights out, I sat for a while at the window. The thrum and muffle of the streets rose up and into the room on the cool night air. Occasionally a car horn or clear phrase voiced by an invisible person pierced the steady hum. Hundreds of windows lit the skyline, some shaded or too far away to be anything other than light, others with visible details: here a stove, there a lamp, a TV, an empty chair, a man brushing his teeth. 

I sat in the darkness, city above, city below, and then surrounded by the city and its sounds I slipped into bed and slept.

It's All Uphill from Here

We walked around six miles today exploring San Francisco. Armed with my trusty tour book and hotel map, I plotted a course that took us through Union Square, down Market Street to the  Ferry Terminal and Market, along the Embarcadero, and through Fisherman's Wharf to Ghiradelli Square. The only thing I wasn't completely sure of were the hills, but I figured if we stayed close to the waterfront we would be fine. My return route involved hopping a cable car to take us up and over Russian Hill with a quick stop at Lombard Street.

Turns out, I wasn't the only one trying to avoid hills and after a quick glance at the long line of people at the bottom of Hyde Street, we agreed to walk up, and possibly hop the cable car en route. Wow! What a climb! We were huffing our way up when behind us a bell rang cheerfully to alert anyone hoping to catch a ride that there were no seats on this car. With a sigh, we continued our ascent, catching up with the stopped cable car a couple of blocks further.

Yellow police tape blocked the street, and the only way to get to Lombard Street was to go down and back up. We paused to catch our breaths, hoping the situation would be resolved shortly. The folks on the cable car waited, too, and any car who tried to enter was waved away by the police. Finally it became evident that we would not be able to pass this way any time soon, and so with a grumble, we turned left and down a street so steep that cars were not allowed to parallel park; rather they pulled straight in to the curb.

Halfway down the block I spied a staircase with a street sign (!) leading in the direction we wanted to go, so we took it, and a at the top there was a short block that led us to the "crookedest street" in the world, and a young man who waved us away. It seems that they were shooting a movie, and they needed Lombard Street clear. From above we heard someone call action and smoke billowed. Below, a single figure crossed the street with his shopping cart. A few minutes later we were allowed to quickly descend, where we were met by a confused cop. "How did you all get through?" he wondered.

Our adventure was not over yet. Down we climbed to pick up another cable car line to take us back to our hotel. After waiting in a long curvy queue, we hopped on board and were snapping some pictures when the friendly conductor informed us that there was a problem with the cable in Chinatown, and we would have to switch to a shuttle bus there. Not us, though. No we hiked another four blocks up hill and waited for yet another cable car. When we climbed off a few minutes later, it was all downhill to our hotel.

Later, relaxing with my feet up, I did a little research about these famous hills. I discovered that an enterprising citizen has actually created an app that will show you how hilly the streets around you are, so you can plan accordingly. "Sometimes I like to take the hilliest route possible," he writes. With somewhat of a different frame of mind, I punched in the address of my hotel, and here's the image I got:

Since red means uphill, that explains a lot! Clearly MC Escher designed this city!

California Here We Are

Our flight touched down at 11:15 am local time, which provided more than enough time to be crammed into the tiniest airplane seat I have ever experienced, but the weather here in San Francisco, 68 and sunny, promised to make up for the inconvenience.

At our hotel, that attitude of friendly accommodation continued, and they allowed us to check in hours ahead of the regular time. After dropping off our bags, we were off, meeting up with a friend from school who is here for the same conference that Heidi will attend. We ate lunch at a local place and then used our handy hotel-provided map to find the Cable Car Museum, which was a steep little hike up and over Nob Hill.

Watching the ginormous gears that actually spin the cables that drag those famous cars around this town was fascinating, and on a whim, I bought a book at the gift shop called Historic Walks in San Francisco: 18 Trails Through the City's Past. With that in hand, we walked down Washington Street to Chinatown and picked up the tour at stop 11. Yikes! If our guide was even half accurate, we learned that the history of that neighborhood is tightly woven together by opium, prostitution, gambling, prostitution, government corruption, prostitution, gang riots over a prostitute, prostitution, slave markets where girls were sold into prostitution, prostitution, squalid places where sick and old prostitutes were dumped to die, and of course prostitution. Even Rube Goldberg owned a brothel! (Wouldn't you like to see that cartoon?)

After all that sordid history, we climbed four flights of stairs to visit the oldest Chinese temple in the US. Despite French doors flung open to a wide balcony overlooking Waverly Place, the air was thick with incense. Oranges were stacked on every flat surface and hundreds of slips of red paper hung from the lanterns covering the ceiling, each representing an offering and a prayer.

Back on the street, we made our way back along Grant Avenue to St. Mary's, and at the bottom of California Street we hopped a cable car and rode back up and over Nob Hill, and then walked on down Hyde Street to our hotel.

Here We Come

When I was a kid, our family had the good fortune to be able to fly for free since my dad worked for an airline. Back then, we had some good friends who moved to Huntington Beach, California, and we traveled from our home in New Jersey to visit them often. Even before they lived there, though, California was our vacation destination more than once. We visited Disneyland and Knott's Berry Farm, then flew north to see the central coast and the Redwoods. A few years later, we had other friends who lived in Monterey, which was also a fun trip.

As much as my brother, sister, and I traveled by airplane, it never really lost its excitement for us, and we never grew tired of visiting the Golden State. There was always some point in our journey where one of us would turn to the others and sing, softly at first, California here I come...

And then a chorus of three would continue:

right back where I started from.

Then a little louder,

Open up those Golden Gates--

now

the 

BIG 

finish,

California here we come!

Millbrook Charlie Gordon

Today when I logged onto my online banking account, there was an automated message asking me to change my security questions. I could have skipped it, as I often do, but on a Saturday in July I had plenty of time to jump through a few hoops designed to keep my fortunes safe.

In our household the division of labor is such that I manage most of the financial accounts, so there are times when I am called upon to answer personal questions on Heidi's behalf. Of course I could consult her or even make up the responses (especially since it would likely be me who had to provide the correct answers in the event of a forgotten password or something), but I don't.

I like to consider those occasions little trivia quizzes about Heidi, quizzes that, if I may say so, I ace every time.

Well... she is one of my favorite subjects.

BONUS: What three questions did I answer today?

Job Benefits

What a busy summer it's been so far! Kyle, Josh, Maine, Buffalo, Hershey, Annabelle and Richard, Kyle, Courtney and all the fun that goes with them. It's amazing to me that, when I stop to do the math, our vacation is not even half over, yet. Four weeks ago was our last day of school; five weeks from Monday, we head back.

Richard and Annabelle are on a different schedule, though. They report back to class just two weeks from Monday. Of course, they've been out since May. Growing up in the north, our schedule when we were kids was much more similar to mine now-- school days were from September until June, and while it's hard not to be a little jealous knowing we have three or four more weeks when some people are starting their summer breaks, it feels pretty great right about now looking forward to more than another month off.

These are the times when it's pretty hard to complain about being a teacher.

The Stoop

We live in a townhouse-style condominium community that was designed to balance privacy with common space. For example, we have two balconies in the rear of our unit that offer a fair amount of privacy, and a small front porch that really doesn't: even though we are the end unit, there's always foot traffic.

Because of fire safety laws, the front is where I have to cook when I want to use the grill. As a result, that backyard barbecue vibe is generally absent from my outdoor cooking. I'm usually in and out, poking and flipping, in between other kitchen chores, and when the food is done I carry it right back into the house.

That was not so tonight, however. My sister is in town for a rare visit, and with my brother, sister-in-law, and nephew on their way over for dinner, we moved the party out front when it came time to cook the veggies and chicken for our fajitas. 

The weather was gorgeous, and a couple of lawn chairs, a couple if folding chairs, a glass of wine, a cold beer, and a game of pick up sticks played on a makeshift table were all we needed to enjoy the evening. Heck, we didn't even need those, but it was nice to have them.

The folks that passed by did not appear to be the least bit inconvenienced. No, if anything, they seemed charmed by our little gathering. When the food was done, we moved inside, but those lawn chairs are still out there, and who knows? Maybe we'll get some more use out of them.

A Cave of One's Own

We took Richard and Annabelle to visit Luray Caverns today. Even though it had been six years since our last visit, in cave time that's nothing, and the place was pretty much as I remembered it-- a hundred-sixty feet deep and 55 degrees. The paved path winds a mile and a quarter down and back up through massive formations that continue to amaze and impress, despite their hokey names.

Despite the crowds and commercialization, though, there are still places on the tour where it's possible to imagine how thrilling and terrifying it must have been for the first people exploring the caverns in 1878 with only candles to light their way.

And just as last time, the romance of such exploration nibbled at my consciousness, and I recalled that then I did some research and discovered that there are over 3,000 caves in Virginia, most of them considered "wild" and unexplored, 95% of them on private property. Sometimes I think I would love to own a cave, but then I remember how years ago a friend of mine told me the story of a lost caver in South Dakota.

My friend was enrolled in a three month program at NOLS, the National Outdoor Leadership School, and they were doing some rescue training in Wind Cave. One of the other students left her pack with extra lamps and batteries in the large Cataract Room and went off to search some of the smaller side passages.

Her carbide lamp ran out of water, so she waited in the dark, calling out to her fellow searchers. Panicking, she began to crawl around in the dark. Eventually, it occurred to her to pee on her lamp to activate it, and she crawled some more through, now, unfamiliar passages. Eventually, the light went out again, and she continued crawling in the dark.

They found her 48 hours later in an unmapped section of the cave, dehydrated but otherwise unharmed, but when the first rescuer approached, his long hair and beard haloed by his headlamp, she raised her hands to her face and whispered, "Are you God?"

An Overlap of Cousins

We have had a full house the last couple of days; a niece and a couple of nephews from both sides of the family have been bunking with us for some summer fun. Kyle is nearly 14, Richard is 8, and Annabelle is 6, but the three of them seemed to hit it off when they met in Maine 2 years ago, and that warm rapport continued into this visit as well.

Kyle is very considerate of the younger kids, but they have fun together, too. He and Richard played for hours at the pool, yesterday, and there were a few rousing rounds of UNO before dinner, as well. Every one in the house piled into the little kids' room last night to hear a few chapters of Flora and Ulysses, and Kyle sat quietly on the floor until both fell asleep.

Today we took the whole gang to see Earth to Echo, and it may have been a touch too old for Richard and Annabelle, although they both claimed to enjoy it. The main characters are middle school aged, (which would explain my profound affection for them-- they seemed very true to life, and just as I was thinking how much I miss the kids in the summer, I realized a student from last year was right behind me.)

At one point in the plot, when the main girl character is first introduced, one of the three boys is pretty rude to her. His friends question him about his reaction, and one of them says, "You know how it is-- you always fight with the girls you like..."

At which point Richard turned to Kyle and loudly asked, "Is that true???"

Good Eats

Tonight's dinner of grilled steak, french fries, corn on the cob, sliced tomatoes, green beans, baby carrots, and apple slices was definitely one of the best I've had in a while. (And I have eaten verrrry well lately!) To begin with, the tomatoes came from my garden, and as good as I always think farmers market 'maters might be, they are no comparison.

In fact, these tomatoes inspired me to tell my fellow diners, Heidi, Richard, Annabelle, and Kyle, about how my mom used to stop almost every summer day at the "tomato man"' down the street to buy a couple of slicers for dinner.

"What are some of your favorite things to eat?" I asked them as Richard put another slice of tomato on his plate.

"I love that French toast we had for breakfast," answered Kyle.

"Hot dogs for lunch!" added Richard.

"Like we also had today?" I  asked. He nodded vigorously.

"I love that, too," said Annabelle.

Clearly, I hit the trifecta of menu planning. 

Picnic Boss

Richard and Annabelle are here for their summer visit and among many other delights, that means playing I'm going on a picnic... whenever we are riding around in the car.

For those who are not familiar, the game goes like this: I'm going on a picnic, and I'm going to bring [fill in the blank]. What are YOU going to bring? The object is to have some pattern in mind, so that whenever it's your turn, you give an example of an item that fits your pattern, and the other players have to figure it out by trial and error.

So, if my pattern was alphabetical order, I would say, I'm going on a picnic and I'm bringing apples. What are you going to bring? If the next person said balloons, or anything else that started with a B, then I would benevolently reply, You can come.

But, when they guess something outside your pattern, You can't come! is the answer. The audacious rudeness of that reply makes me giggle to this day, as does the shock on the face of anyone who hears it for the first time. Their eyes widen in disbelief and quite often they say, as Annabelle did when I taught her and Richard the game last summer, "That is not nice!"

But now, we're old hands at it, and we picked it up this morning almost as if we'd never had a 52 week hiatus. Heidi started with an easy B pattern, and 6-year-old Annabelle followed with the classic A-B-C pattern. When it got to my turn, I couldn't resist messing with her. "I'm going on a picnic, and I'm going to bring dog poop!" I laughed wickedly, waiting for her to let me come along with my unsavory contribution.

She didn't hesitate. "I'm going to cut that off," she told me with authority.

My eyebrows shot up in surprise, and I looked at her in the rear view mirror.

"You can bring a dog," she said. That's it."

Cupcake Calculations

     2 kinds of cupcakes
+   4 kinds of frosting
------------------------------
     8 choices for dessert

You're worth it, Treatie! Happy Birthday.

(For the record: chocolate or vanilla cake with chocolate or vanilla or peanut butter or earl grey buttercream.)

Unintended Consequences

Who knew that when we put a potted sunflower out on the deck that we would get an almost-resident pair of goldfinches, too? 

When Life Gives You...

Peaches? Make peach crisp.

Cucumbers and basil? Whip up Thai cucumber salad.

Zucchini? Roast it and serve with tahini sauce.

Eggplant? Ratatouille is always nice.

Tomatoes? Fuggedaboutit! We never met one we didn't love.

Don't worry, summer. I can handle it.

Desperate Measures

An inveterate introvert, I know how lucky I am to have Heidi, who is usually more than willing  to approach, ask, order, sit in the middle seat on airplanes, or otherwise interface with strangers on my behalf. Who knows what was happening today? In order to prepare for Richard and Annabelle's upcoming visit, we were shopping for fun art supplies at our local craft store when I mentioned that teachers get a 10% discount with identification. "Why don't you tell the cashier we don't have our IDs because it's summer?" I suggested.

"Why don't you?" Heidi replied.

Just then a former student waved at us. It turned out she was working there for the summer, so as we waited in line we exchanged pleasantries and did a little catching up before she went off to stock some shelves. Moments later, the cashier was ringing up our purchase, and I looked at Heidi with raised eyebrows. She returned the exact same look. I sighed.

"Don't you guys give a teacher discount?" I began. The cashier nodded. "Well," I continued, "we're teachers, but we had to turn in our IDs for the summer." I shrugged. "You can ask Stephanie," I continued hopefully, "I taught her when she was in 6th grade."

"I don't believe a word Stephanie says," the cashier told me. My heart sank. "But I do believe you!" she finished merrily as she punched a few buttons on the register and even scanned an extra coupon.

Fifteen bucks later, Heidi was not as impressed as I thought she might be. "So..." she started, "if there's money involved? You don't seem to have any problem at all talking to strangers. I'll have to remember that."

Drat.