I Want to Guard Your Life!

In general, I have a lot of respect for the kids they get to lifeguard at our pool. Many of them are visiting the US for the summer: hired by contractors, given a bed in a group home and a bike to travel to and from work, they work 5 or 6 ten-hour shifts a week, and then sightsee and practice their English on the off days.

Even so, it seems like kind of a thankless job, at our pool, anyway, involving long hours spent all alone, except when you have to enforce the pool rules on a bunch of entitled residents most of whom are considerably older than you. Even the best and brightest of them can end up surly and slumped in the corner by August.

That is not the case this year, however. Our job is split by two young women, Carmen and Anna, who were as friendly and engaged this week as they were in June. Neither of them hesitates to confront patrons about rule infractions, but both of them are as sweet and helpful as can be, especially when it comes to the kids we have brought to the pool. Carmen gave Richard some pointers when he was trying to spin a "straight up 375" off the board, and Anna was more than happy to let Annabelle have a second chance at the swim test so she could go into the deep end.

So when some thunder rumbled this afternoon when we were at the pool, I wasn't surprised to see Carmen jump right up. "If that was Thunder," she said, "and we hear it again? You have to get out."

"You're the boss!" I agreed. "And if that was thunder and we hear it again? I don't want to stay in!"

She nodded. And smiled.

Survivor

For some reason, the last few days there have been a number of bees and wasps floating in the pool when we visit. Nobody likes bumping into a drowned bug, and those particular insects are scary dead or alive, so it's usually my habit to splash them into the skimmer.

If, in the ride to the side of the pool, the poor soul weakly waves an antenna or leg, either in reality or my imagination, then my action plan is different: she is lifted up and out of the pool in a wee handful of water to sputter and dry and hopefully fly away. That's the best case scenario, anyhow, although these last two days at the pool have had a high insect mortality rate.

Until tonight, that is: tonight the large wasp that I found in the deep end literally shook her head once she hit dry land. After that her actions were more like a dog than a bug. First, she wagged her back end, presumably to get rid of any excess liquid. Then she buzzed her wings to try to fly, but she must have been too heavy, so she jiggled each leg dry, and then used them to squeegee the rest of her body.

In between each motion her wings rose up and vibrated, until at last enough of the pool water was gone so that she could lift her body into the air and fly back home to her sisters.

That Guy

We have seen the preview for Meryl Streep's latest movie, Rikki and the Flash, a kazillion times this summer. Coming out this Friday, the story of an aging rocker who has prioritized her career over her family is directed by Jonathan Demme, and reunites Streep with her Sophie's Choice Nathan, Kevin Kline. Plus, her real daughter, Mamie Gummer, plays her daughter in the movie.

Oh, I'm in-- I will totally see it, but whenever the trailer is on the screen, I'm always drawn to the lead guitarist in the band, who is also Rikki's boyfriend. Who is that guy? I wonder every time. He looks so familiar! And then, of course, the thought is gone-- swept away by the concentrated drama of the next preview or whatever superpyrotechnics await in the feature we have paid to watch.

But, tonight, my question was answered as I thumbed through the latest issue of Entertainment Weekly-- the guy? Is Rick Springfield of the late 80's General Hospital and Jesse's Girl fame. By all accounts he is quite good in the film, holding his own with Streep and amusing the cast on set by playing any rock song ever in between takes.

Oh, yeah. That's him!

At the Corner of Opportunity and Preparation

Success is where opportunity and preparation meet.
~Bobby Unser

I spent the morning deep in study.

First I poured over the map and guidebook in preparation for our Alaska cruise next week. I cross-referenced that information with our itinerary and a couple of websites and made notes on little hand-cut post-its about what to do and see on each day. I also added to and revised our packing list based on this newest information.

Next, I continued reading the guidebook for my new camera and completed the recommended exercises for chapter 3, because I want to be prepared to take the

best.
pictures.
possible.

while on the cruise.

This vacation stuff is hard work! (But I am up for it!)

Fanfare

How cute is it that Josh and Treat can still spend a good hour playing Tanks on the Wii? As retro as they claim the system to be with its 10-year-old graphics, there they are in the living room targeting and destroying tiny little tanks in a virtual maze like they have since they were 11. "I only wish I could have this as my ringtone!" Josh said about the trumpet fanfare that announces each new level, and he was only being half ironic.

Tortilla Espanola

I picked up our vegetable share bright and early this morning; it was before 8 when I repacked the contents of the produce box into a reusable bag and brought it home. Once in our kitchen and confronted with eggs, potatoes, and onions, there was really only one thing to do.

Back when I was in college, I had an acquaintance from my job in the dining hall who had done a semester in Spain. Early one Sunday morning, when we were both working brunch, but before most students were even awake, she took advantage of the slow time to make me breakfast. "This sounds weird, but it's really delicious," she said as she presented me with a potato omelet. Given the pre-scrambled eggs and frozen hash browns she had to work with, it was pretty good.

I thought of her six years later when I was in Spain visiting my sister, who was also doing a semester abroad there. Then we enjoyed Tortilla Espanola everywhere we went. As one of the most popular tapas dishes in the country, you can order it in most places for breakfast, lunch, dinner, or snack. At the time, I was cooking professionally, and so we purchased a cookbook, in Spanish of course, so that I could authentically recreate all the foods we loved-- tortilla, gazpacho, and fried calamari.

And indeed, for years, those dishes were in heavy rotation at our house: tortilla for brunch, gazpacho for lunch, calamari for an hors-d'oeuvre before dinner. The key to all of them was olive oil, and plenty of it. My friend from college never had a chance, because I doubt there was a drop of olive oil to be had in that pantry.

Not so in my kitchen-- even though it has probably been 10 years or more since the last time I made it, this morning I poured a generous amount of olive oil into my skillet and proceeded to poach a pound of new potatoes and some baby onions until they were tender. In the mean time I scrambled up six eggs that couldn't have been more than 24 hours away from their hens, and when the veggies were ready I strained and added them directly to the eggs. Oh that lovely olive oil will be delicious in other things, but for the little bit I drizzled back in the skillet before dumping the egg-potato-onion mixture in, too.

In five minutes my tortilla was golden brown on the bottom, and so just like the long-ago cookbook directed, I flipped it onto a plate and slid it back into the pan to finish. A few minutes later it was ready, but I let it cool to room temperature before slicing it into wedges and enjoying it with a strong cup of coffee, just like in Spain.

Wake Up Call

For at least 25 years, I have risen to the sound of NPR's morning news show on the radio. What can I say? I like being informed by intelligent people with interesting voices as I get ready for the day. That's why it's so alarming that lately the sound of Morning Edition puts me right back to sleep-- it seems like it's all more of the same old news reported in a soothing drone.

Maybe I'll have to switch to Fox News. That might get a rise out of me!