Who is Your Navigator?

Whaddayadoin! I cried at the driver who first cut me off trying to go right, but then swerved left and slammed on the brakes.

"He's an Uber driver," Josh told me. "I can see his sticker."

And then I knew what he was doing. He was driving with the guidance of his map app through a very confusing circle. Did I feel a bit more empathetic? Maybe, but in any case, I drove purposefully off to Josh's neighborhood pharmacy to fetch his prescription, guided by my own map app.

It was light rush hour traffic all the way, but the route was unfamiliar to me, and I made a few dicey merges. At last we were almost at our destination which was on the left, and the turn by turn directed me to skip three lanes over, make a quick right, and the an immediate U-turn. My eyes widened and my grip tightened on the steering wheel. Looking in the rearview mirror, I punched the accelerator. "I'm just going to Uber it!" I said, and within seconds, we had reached our destination.

Impossible

There was only one thing to do this afternoon after sitting in a dark theater for two and a half hours, eating caramel and cheese corn, and watching Tom Cruise (who is only 3 days younger than I am) run all over Europe in the latest Mission Impossible movie.

Go to the gym!

Bad Dog

Lucy is a cat-crazy canine, so much so that she finds the day lilies where one of our neighbor's cats hang out  irresistible whenever we walk by. This morning we ran into her friend Cooper right there, and when their leashes became entwined in the excitement of seeing each other, I dropped Lucy's, as we do. But before I could stoop to pick up the disentangled leash from the ground, she bolted toward the lilies, nose to the ground, hunting cats.

I heard the jingle of her leash ring as it bounced along the parking lot. Giving chase, I whistled and called her back, LuLuLuLuLu! treats in hand, but she tore off in the opposite direction as if she couldn't hear me. Suddenly she stopped and dashed up some steps, sprinting up and down a walkway that runs along several back gates. She skid to a stop, nose-punched one open, and hurtled inside, gate banging closed behind her.

I, too, mounted the steps, me two at a time, thrust open the gate, and grabbed the collar of my naughty dog, and dragged her away from the neighbors sliding glass door, where she was crouched, staring and waiting, presumably for the cats. As we quickly exited the yard, I glanced to my left. One of the cats was watching the whole show from a patio chair pushed under the outdoor table, and I think she was more than a little amused.

What You See

The Tidal Basin was very pleasant at 4:30 this afternoon. The sun was low enough in the west to offer plenty of shade beneath those famous cherry trees, there was a soft breeze, and the water was dotted with bright blue paddle boats. As Heidi and Lucy and I walked up and around toward the Jefferson Memorial, there was also something else. The unmistakable silhouette of a scooter beckoned from the end of a pathway. Within moments I was rolling up and down and all around the deserted tree-lined drives and shady lots on the south side of the grounds.

In the years since 2001, all the roads that lead directly to the monuments, memorials, and government buildings have been barricaded and blocked; usually I find the added security a depressing reminder of the contentious world we live in, but today? It was a scooter's paradise.

10 minutes later, the scooter was parked, locked and ready for the next free spirit who chose it, and we were on our way.

Going Bananas

There is one crop that thrives every year in my garden-- whether I have one plant or many, I always have lots of banana peppers. Heidi and Victor like them pickled, and every summer I oblige, but how many pickled banana peppers does anyone eat, really?

The answer is, less than we have, since we still have at least a pint or two, and so this week I've been looking for some other options for that huge bowl of peppers on the counter. After reading several recipes, I decided that I would do a riff on aji amarillo paste, a staple of Peruvian cuisine, but one that kept the traditional flavor profile of the banana pepper, specifically part of an Italian sub, or as we called them growing up in South Jersey, a hoagie.

With that in mind, I seeded my peppers, blanched them, and shocked them in some ice water. After a thorough draining, I combined them in the food processor with a hefty portion of fresh garlic, some oregano and basil, black pepper, really good olive oil, and a little red wine vinegar. The result?

Mwah!

Hoagie in a jar! (With a little sunshine thrown in!)

Punch in the Gut

Those dang infinity stones!

As I sat in the cool darkness of the theater this afternoon enjoying the light-hearted family fun of Ant Man and the Wasp, I had completely forgotten about the catastrophic ending to the latest Avengers movie... until the credit scene.

Tomatoes? What Tomatoes?

There's been a lot of rain here, and we're expecting more. Generally, I try to go with whatever weather there is, especially in summer, because whether the day is hot or rainy or both, it is still a day of vacation.

Even so, I have kept a sharp eye for standing water and the predicted flash floods, but I was a bit surprised, when they closed our pool yesterday due to "dangerous conditions." After that, perhaps I should have expected that when I arrived at the Wednesday afternoon farmers market today many of the usual vendors were simply not there.

Oh, I was disappointed in my quest for summer tomatoes, but I did spot a scooter just across the street, and after a quick 10 minute ride, all was forgiven.