Yesterday Once More

I like to think I have a pretty good memory; that's why it was so appalling today as we listened to the AT40 countdown from July 28, 1973 that I kind of knew the songs, but not really. "What the heck was I doing that summer?!" I asked Heidi in exasperation. But of course she had no idea-- we would not meet for another 25 years. "Obviously not listening to the radio, for some weird reason," I concluded.

It wasn't until the countdown reached number 2 that it all became clear to me. As the Carpenters sang Yesterday Once More, I remembered that for my birthday in June that year I got a cassette tape player and recorder, and I spent the summer listening to the one tape I also received, The Carpenters Greatest Hits.

I also recalled that when we went to California to visit our friends, I made everyone listen to my tape. Those kids were Callie cool, and let's just say that the Carpenters were not on their playlist, but after a few days there, I got the confidence to play my music. It went over fine, but later that night, when our parents tuned into the summer replacement variety show hosted by, who else? The Carpenters! There were groans all around.

"Why did we have to listen to that tape?" one of the kids moaned as Karen and Richard crooned, We've only just begun... "Once a day is enough!"

Two Strikes

Mandatory quarantine AND a hurricane?

I'm beginning to worry a little bit about my vacation next week.

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!

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!

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!"

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.

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.