Like many things, I have been rather slow to embrace Twitter. While my brother has been an avid follower for a few years, I joined just last summer, and then only so I could get the inside scoop on where the food trucks would be (but that's another blog post).
Since then, though, I have definitely come to appreciate it. More than any other media, it offers spontaneous and immediate communication boiled down to what seems like the essentials. Not only do I know where the food trucks are and what they may be running low on, I can also see what the snow looks like from the studio window of an author I admire, what a certain celebrity cooked for dinner, or even get the answer to my own personal question from a famous chef.
But, wait! There's more: I can find out what trails are open in my favorite National Park, whether or not that actress is really going to challenge the senate minority leader, what books my friends are reading, and if it might rain tomorrow. All in one place, all in 140 characters, whether I really need to know it or not.
Sunday, March 31, 2013
Saturday, March 30, 2013
Postcard from Charles County
We went on another little outing today, this time to Chapman State Park, which is about 45 minutes from our house. I don't have a rating system, but if I did? CSP would be 4 stars, 2 thumbs up, 9 pine trees, or something else pretty darn good.
To begin with, the weather (which I'm aware is beyond the control of the park) was perfect: low 60's and plenty of sunshine. T-shirt, jeans, and sneakers were just right for the outing.
Next, although there were five or six cars parked in the lot, we only saw two other couples, and then just to nod as we passed.
Third, the trails were easy, but not flat or boring. They descend and ascend about 200 feet over a couple of miles through hard wood forests punctuated liberally with stands of towering loblolly pines.
Fourth, there is a payoff in the hike. About halfway, the trail opens to a wide sandy beach on the Potomac. We could see another of our favorite spots, Mason Neck State Park, right across the water. Several boats were out fishing, and a bald eagle agreeably soared just over head.
Fifth, there are historical sites to explore first hand. The property belonged to the Chapman family from 1750 to 1914. They were related to George Washington by both blood and marriage and good friends of George Mason, as well. Their plantation survived and thrived through both the Revolutionary War and the Civil War. The house that was built in 1840 still stands today, and there is also a family cemetery and some other cool ruins within the park boundaries. And, as if that were not enough, in 1954 a Hungarian countess bought the place and for the next thirty years, used it as her country estate and horse farm.
As we headed down the wide, red clay drive back toward our car, I was already thinking of when we might be back and who we should bring with us.
To begin with, the weather (which I'm aware is beyond the control of the park) was perfect: low 60's and plenty of sunshine. T-shirt, jeans, and sneakers were just right for the outing.
Next, although there were five or six cars parked in the lot, we only saw two other couples, and then just to nod as we passed.
Third, the trails were easy, but not flat or boring. They descend and ascend about 200 feet over a couple of miles through hard wood forests punctuated liberally with stands of towering loblolly pines.
Fourth, there is a payoff in the hike. About halfway, the trail opens to a wide sandy beach on the Potomac. We could see another of our favorite spots, Mason Neck State Park, right across the water. Several boats were out fishing, and a bald eagle agreeably soared just over head.
Fifth, there are historical sites to explore first hand. The property belonged to the Chapman family from 1750 to 1914. They were related to George Washington by both blood and marriage and good friends of George Mason, as well. Their plantation survived and thrived through both the Revolutionary War and the Civil War. The house that was built in 1840 still stands today, and there is also a family cemetery and some other cool ruins within the park boundaries. And, as if that were not enough, in 1954 a Hungarian countess bought the place and for the next thirty years, used it as her country estate and horse farm.
As we headed down the wide, red clay drive back toward our car, I was already thinking of when we might be back and who we should bring with us.
Friday, March 29, 2013
A Good Friday
We ended our week off as it began: dealing with practicalities. There were deliveries and inspections, emails, phone calls, and bills. All were addressed without stress, as if each and only one were the business of the moment, which they were.
In the afternoon we took a short drive to a National Park within 20 miles of our home, but one that we've never visited. Literally a massive fort with bulwarks and bastions galore; it was built to protect and defend, and we practically had the place to ourselves.
Walking its parapets with sweeping view of river and sky, it seemed like I could almost see my home, and I realized that some vacations are meant for escape and some are meant for being present.
In the afternoon we took a short drive to a National Park within 20 miles of our home, but one that we've never visited. Literally a massive fort with bulwarks and bastions galore; it was built to protect and defend, and we practically had the place to ourselves.
Walking its parapets with sweeping view of river and sky, it seemed like I could almost see my home, and I realized that some vacations are meant for escape and some are meant for being present.
Thursday, March 28, 2013
Lions and Lambs
This year, March seems to have taken the old adage seriously, but on a micro level-- each day this week has provided sunshine, bluster, wind, rain, and even a little sleet and snow. The experts on these things have pushed the cherry blossom peak prediction back ten days or so, and the inevitable comparisons to last year's record warmth have been, well, inevitable.
It would be easy to gripe about the unpredictable weather, especially on the week of spring break, but why not think of it like this: March actually offers the best of all seasons. Enjoy the sunshine, but if the weather outside is frightful, then the fire inside will be delightful.
And so it has been.
It would be easy to gripe about the unpredictable weather, especially on the week of spring break, but why not think of it like this: March actually offers the best of all seasons. Enjoy the sunshine, but if the weather outside is frightful, then the fire inside will be delightful.
And so it has been.
Wednesday, March 27, 2013
Whining Allowed
Our dog had to have minor surgery yesterday. At 9 1/2 she had a few warts and cysts to be removed. While she was out, they cleaned her teeth, as well. In general, she is a very healthy pup, and when we picked her up, the vet tech assured us that everything went better than expected.
"She's going to be groggy for a day or two," the tech let us know, "and she may whine. That's normal. It's just her way of saying, Something happened to me, and I don't understand what."
And she did indeed quietly whimper and groan her way through the night and into this morning. We watched her closely to be sure she wasn't in any pain, but her protests seemed to match up with what they had told us. She just could not figure out what the heck had happened.
All day today, I've thought about the experience from our dog's point of view. How confusing it all must have been-- to be left in a strange place, then to feel so drowsy, to lose consciousness, to come to, again in an alien place full of odd smells, some of them coming from you, to be all woozy and wobbly. Then there is the lingering pain, even though it is managed with medication, there has to be some discomfort, and where did that even come from?
Yeah, you bet something happened to her! I think a little complaining is completely in order.
"She's going to be groggy for a day or two," the tech let us know, "and she may whine. That's normal. It's just her way of saying, Something happened to me, and I don't understand what."
And she did indeed quietly whimper and groan her way through the night and into this morning. We watched her closely to be sure she wasn't in any pain, but her protests seemed to match up with what they had told us. She just could not figure out what the heck had happened.
All day today, I've thought about the experience from our dog's point of view. How confusing it all must have been-- to be left in a strange place, then to feel so drowsy, to lose consciousness, to come to, again in an alien place full of odd smells, some of them coming from you, to be all woozy and wobbly. Then there is the lingering pain, even though it is managed with medication, there has to be some discomfort, and where did that even come from?
Yeah, you bet something happened to her! I think a little complaining is completely in order.
Tuesday, March 26, 2013
Bake Me a Cake
With all the activity at the SCOTUS today, rather than chew my nails waiting to hear how the justices reacted to the arguments, I decided to youtube an old favorite: The Puppy Episode of Ellen.
I remember the thrill of watching it when it originally aired nearly 15 years ago, and it was still as goofy and hilarious and heartwrenching today. Best line? For me, it was the same then as now: I mean, you never see a cake that says Good for you! You're gay!
A lot of progress has been made in the past fifteen years, but I mean, you still don't see those cakes.
I remember the thrill of watching it when it originally aired nearly 15 years ago, and it was still as goofy and hilarious and heartwrenching today. Best line? For me, it was the same then as now: I mean, you never see a cake that says Good for you! You're gay!
A lot of progress has been made in the past fifteen years, but I mean, you still don't see those cakes.
Monday, March 25, 2013
A Perfect Day for Nesting
We had the biggest snowfall of the season overnight. Awaking to two or three inches of snow blanketing the rooftops and flocking the trees, I wasn't even disappointed that such a day came when we were already out of school. It was too pretty.
As the day progressed and things warmed up a bit, it was more of a slush storm and not nearly as charming. We ran a bunch of errands and roads and stores were practically empty. It seemed like most folks preferred to sigh at this grey day from inside. Who could blame them really? It wasn't a fit day for man or beast.
That's why I couldn't get upset when I went over to the sliding glass doors a little while ago to see what the dog was fussing about. A squirrel had found my stash of pine straw. I collected it several weeks ago to mulch my strawberry plants later in the spring-- the extra layer should keep the fruit from rotting on the ground-- and placed the bags in the back corner of my deck to keep them from the elements.
The squirrel had other plans, though. I watched her fearlessly gather tiny fistfuls of the dry needles and stuff them into her mouth, mere inches from my dog's nose pressed up against the glass. Then she scrambled twenty feet to a junction formed by several branches at the top of nearby white pine, where I could clearly see her using it to insulate her growing nest.
I could have let the dog out or chased her away myself, but I didn't. I had to congratulate her on finding such a convenient supply of dry building material on a day like this, a day when she needed that pine straw much more than I do.
As the day progressed and things warmed up a bit, it was more of a slush storm and not nearly as charming. We ran a bunch of errands and roads and stores were practically empty. It seemed like most folks preferred to sigh at this grey day from inside. Who could blame them really? It wasn't a fit day for man or beast.
That's why I couldn't get upset when I went over to the sliding glass doors a little while ago to see what the dog was fussing about. A squirrel had found my stash of pine straw. I collected it several weeks ago to mulch my strawberry plants later in the spring-- the extra layer should keep the fruit from rotting on the ground-- and placed the bags in the back corner of my deck to keep them from the elements.
The squirrel had other plans, though. I watched her fearlessly gather tiny fistfuls of the dry needles and stuff them into her mouth, mere inches from my dog's nose pressed up against the glass. Then she scrambled twenty feet to a junction formed by several branches at the top of nearby white pine, where I could clearly see her using it to insulate her growing nest.
I could have let the dog out or chased her away myself, but I didn't. I had to congratulate her on finding such a convenient supply of dry building material on a day like this, a day when she needed that pine straw much more than I do.
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