Time for Another Installment of In the BIN

Yes, it's been way too long and there have been so many good entries out there, so I think it's time for another installment of In the BIN.

I'm starting this edition with the best summation of what it's like to be sick and at home for more than two days and how the mind progresses over time. Let's just say, this person starts out thinking--as we all do--that they are completely and totally indispensable and they can't afford to be away from work for even a scintilla of a second or it will all go to hell in a handbasket and by day 13 the same person is nothing but a puddle of mushy simplicity. Here is At a Different RPM.

This next entry is more than a month old, but it is side-splittingly hilarious, because I can totally relate and I'm sure some of you can, too. Read Clay Satan at Recovering Mormon.

I should have highlighted this one week's ago. I have a friend who lives in Switzerland. When you read this story, I guarantee you'll think what many of us thought: "Trippy." Stuff like this only happens in the news or on City Confidential, right? Not so. Apparently, it happens to people only a few degrees removed from my friend. Read Small Town-tales.

Another friend of mine, Phoebe, pointed me to a blog titled A Somewhat Old, But Capacious Handbag. How rad is that?! So, I thought I'd check it out. On the day I did, this was the entry: Bad Week. Have a Bird. I'm totally sold on this blog and who wouldn't be with that image to greet them straight off?

As some of you may know by now, I also have a photography blog, which means I also have a completely different list of bloggers to whom I link all over the U.S. and the world who post photos of the places they live and the things they see. This is a very, very small sample of some photography that is either excellent in its composition or thought-provoking or both: Free2B (be sure to click on the image to enlarge and read the words on the column); London Daily Nature Photo and this series on an oak tree (if you like nature photography, this is an absolute must. NiC's photos are amazing!); and check out the only photographer I've found who actually makes Los Angeles look beautiful--The Jimson Weed Gazette.

There you have it. Another long-overdue installment of In the Blogs I've Noted.

A or B?

Lucky Strike Building in the old warehouse district, Richmond, Virginia.
I like all the different lines in this photo. What do you think?

Two photos. Different settings: one only slightly enhanced (above) the other one with a lower white balance (below.) Which do you prefer?

Same as above, but edited... extremely...

It's raining here today. I'm off at 12:00 for a personal tour of St. John the Baptist Russian Orthodox Cathedral down on 17th and Shepherd. I'm hoping the weather clears and the sun peeks out as I've been told the interior is quite beautiful during the day with natural light streaming through the windows. I know nothing about Russian architecture and iconography, so this will be a good learning experience!

Happy (Photo) Friday!

Photo copyright: D.C. Confidential

Shaking Sticks at Notes

Warning: As I've said before, I'm not at all trained in writing about music, so for those who are music lovers, be prepared for inarticulate stumbling and bumbling as I try to describe this past weekend's experience in culture.

Saturday evening, Bee and the EcoFellow and I drove out to Prince George's Community College in Largo to hear the Prince George's Philharmonic perform. "The Prince Georges Philharmonic?! Seriously?" you're asking yourself, right? Yes, you heard correctly. PGP for short. Or, Pretty Good Performance, as Bee now calls them.

Fellow blogger Alice emailed me a couple of weeks ago and asked if I'd like tickets to a performance of Mozart and Dvorak as played by the PGP. (It just so happens, the same Alice plays violin in the PGP.) Never one to turn down an opportunity to hear classical music performed live, I said, "Yes, please!"

I've never attended community-type performances before. Most of my experience with theater, opera, ballet, and music has either been on a state or national level, so this was a first for me. And let me tell you, it was every bit as satisfying, exhilarating, and well-performed as what might be seen or heard in larger venues. Granted, the concert hall PGP performed in on Saturday evening was completely unworthy of their talent, but they overcame any lack of acoustic quality with sheer talent.

The PGP played three pieces: Mozart's Symphony No. 32 in G Major, K.318 and Piano Concerto No. 23 in A Major, K.488 and Dvorak's Symphony No. 7 in D Minor, Op. 7. I honestly couldn't (and still can't) decide which piece I enjoyed the most. Each were complex and sublime in their own right and none were a burden on the listener. The evening's event included Awadagin Pratt as both a guest performer and conductor.

Led by music director Charles Ellis, the evening began with Mozart's Symphony No. 32. I'll say simply that the music was great, but it was watching Ellis that was a treat. The man conducts and moves like a swan. He was as much fun to watch as the orchestra was to hear!

Mozart's Piano Concerto No. 23 included Awadagin Pratt as guest pianist. I'll just say this: the man, his piano, and the music were one. You could literally see it flowing through him and it flowing out of him. I've seen a number of pianists who just pound out their music, but this gentleman embodied it and you could not only hear the passion in his playing, you could see it in his body as well. He was simply amazing and moving. Pratt is a graduate of the Peabody Conservatory of Music and the only graduate in the school's history to receive degrees in three performance areas: piano, violin, and conducting.

It was during Dvorak's Symphony No. 7 that we were treated to Pratt's conducting skills. Unlike Ellis, who was nimble and lithe and poetic in his conducting, Pratt was riveted, forceful, and direct. Both conductors accomplished soaring performances out of the PGP musicians and the results were absolutely lovely.

The Prince George's Philharmonic is an almost-all volunteer organization. Saturday's concert was the end of the 42nd season. Next year's season features some great music in its programs. If you're looking to enjoy some excellent music without breaking the bank, check out the PGP. We thoroughly enjoyed our evening and my take away was, you don't have to go to the Kennedy Center or the Met to enjoy great performances. Some of them might just be right in your own backyard! Thanks again, Alice. We had a great time!

Mother's Day: Plechy!

Time for a little Fast & Testimony Picnic here. Actually, I take that back. I think, in lieu of an FTP and as a replacement for Relief Society Enrichment Night, we'll have Women's Stitch & Bitch. I think Di is in charge of that group. The topic is "Mother's Day: Plechy! Why I Hate, Hate, Hate This Holiday."* (Or, if you're feeling a bit contrarian, tell us why you love it.)

Meanwhile, enjoy this article from the Washington Post and be grateful this monument never came to fruition!

* Today's topic is brought to you by all the women I've talked to in the last 24 hours who have reminded me once again that they absolutely hate this Hallmark Holiday. Just wanted to clarify that. I have no opinion about Mother's Day one way or the other. (Well, that's not true. I do. But I'm reserving it for later.)

Symmetrical

Courtyard skylight at the L'Enfant Plaza Hotel

I'm out at my parents' this weekend helping my dad with a home improvement project. We're putting in a new bathroom off the master bedroom. My mom is in Salt Lake visiting with her three sisters. It's been two years since the funeral of my grandfather--her dad. Tomorrow, I'm going to hear a fellow blogger perform in a concert--Mozart and Dvorak! Very excited. (Must find the address to the concert venue...) And tonight, I'm attending an art and photography opening for my friend and realtor, Monica Youngling, up on Capitol Hill. Also very excited.

That's pretty much my weekend. How is yours shaping up?

The above photo is the skylight pyramid in the courtyard of the L'Enfant Plaza Hotel. To see more photos of the plaza, go here and here.

Happy (Photo) Friday, friends!

Photo copyright: D.C. Confidential

Permission Granted...

Flat Stanley being photographed from the top of the Lincoln Memorial
(Click image to enlarge)

My friend, the EcoFellow, said he was fine with me posting a picture of him and Flat Stanley. I only have two: this one and one of him leaning against Einstein whilst holding Flat Stanley. I opted for the former because it also includes Sister NoMo and it was an action shot. This is the two of them at the top of the Lincoln Memorial taking a picture of Flat Stanley with the Washington Monument and the U.S. Capitol behind him.

So there you have it. For those of you who were wondering who Flat Stanley is, he's that little paper doll dude in Sister NoMo's hand that the EcoFellow is photographing!

Photo copyright: D.C. Confidential

In Which I Unintentionally Eat My Foot, Shoe and All...

Yesterday, if you hadn't noticed, was GORGEOUS. Gee-oh-are-ee-gee-ee-oh-you-ess, gorgeous! It being the aforementioned gorgeous, I decided to go out for a bit and ended up hanging with the EcoFellow and Sister NoMo. We traipsed all over the west end of the National Mall taking pictures of Flat Stanley for EcoFellow's nephew who lives in Idaho.

Sidebar: I had no idea Flat Stanley was such a phenomenon. It was like we were traveling with a minor celebrity. At one point, a whole touristing family, seeing us with Flat Stanley, cried out, "Flat Stanley! Hey, did you see their Flat Stanley? Remember how we took our Flat Stanley to New York City?" Who knew?

As the day was so generously gorgeous--bright blue skies, warm temps, cool breezes, zilch humidity (what is this? Fall?!)--bajillions of people were out and about. People in kickball leagues, kite fliers, families with little ones, and that ever ubiquitous, migratory, seasonal creature: the tourist. You know the species I'm talking about right? Dopey-eyed, rubbernecking, money-spending tourists. Those ones.

Honestly overheard: Standing at the top of the steps of the Lincoln Memorial looking east, which features a prominent view of the World War II Memorial, the Washington Monument, and the U.S. Capitol. Following is an exact quote:

Tourist woman to member of her tourist party, presumably a family member: "Oh honey, look!" Everyone in her party cranes their head eastward as she points. "Be sure to get a picture of the White House."

Sidebar: I want to get a Nerf bat to carry with me when I'm down on/near the Mall. When tourists say stupid shit like this, I want to hit 'em in the head.

Attention tourists: Before you visit a city--any city--do your friggin' homework! And if you can't be considerate enough to do it for whatever city you're visiting, please, for the love of all that is historically holy, at least do it for this city, especially if you're a citizen of this country. It's embarrassing and you look stupid when you can't tell the difference between the White House and the U.S. Capitol.

Visual aid: In case you're still unclear on which is which, here are a few pictures of each, so you'll be able to tell going forward. (Click on images to enlarge.)

On the left: The White House. Where the President of the United States lives and works. Contrary to popular stupidity, err, belief, you cannot see it from the Lincoln Memorial. On the right: The U.S. Capitol. You can see it from the Lincoln Memorial.

A Guide to What You're Seeing When You Stand on the Steps of the Lincoln Memorial and Look East:
The Reflecting Pool, the National World War II Memorial, the Washington Monument, the Smithsonian Castle, the U.S. Capitol, and the Library of Congress.
Click image to enlarge and read the Post-it Note-like-thingies.

Okay, site location lecture over. Moving on...

*****

My true purpose for today's entry, and the meaning of my title, is this: after taking pictures of Flat Stanley on the Mall and at a number of the Stan Embassies (Pakistan, Afghanistan, Uzbekistan, Kazakhstan, Turkmenistan, etc., for those tourists among you who not only failed U.S. history, but world geography, too), the EcoFellow, Sister NoMo, and I headed uphill to D.C.'s next-best-thing: Target!

Target would be the scene of the crime.

Scene: Three friends walking past the women's accessories on their way to the check out.

Sister NoMo: (teasing) Hey, Jay, do you want an ugly handbag for your birthday?

Jay: (sarcastically) Yeah, right. I need an ugly handbag like I need a hole in the head.

Jay (that's me) no sooner has the words out of her mouth than she looks up from her wallet where she's been extracting her credit card in preparation for payment and sees a young, male Target employee with a shaved head. On the side of his head, a clear bandage covering what appears to be a serious head wound, i.e. a hole in his head. The customer in front of Jay turns and glares at Jay, then shakes her head in disgust.

EcoFellow: I think we'll go stand over here.

EcoFellow and Sister NoMo exit toward stage left, separating themselves from Jay.

Did I mention it was a gorgeous day?


Photo copyright: D.C. Confidential/Janet M. Kincaid

Cat-a-tonic: A Recipe

Wanna know how to quiet a cat without actually killing it? Here's a recipe.

Buy some fresh fish. Any fish or small crustacean will do--salmon, halibut, some shrimp. Whatever. Plan a menu around it. Baked potatoes, steamed zucchini, sauteed spinach, risotto. Again, whatever. Make yourself a plate and sit down to eat.

When the cat comes around begging for morsels from your plate, share some fish with him. About an hour after you've eaten, check on the cat. He'll be passed out on the bed and he won't move for a good three or four hours.

Doesn't take much. Couple of tablespoons.

I don't know why, but seeing the Dirty Bastard Cat hung over from fish consumption makes my heart gleeful.

Evil, aren't I? (Or, as my cousin, Arlene's oldest daughter says, "Amn't I?" Yeah, that!)

Or, to quote Wicked H: "Muhahahahahahaha..."

Manhole in Green

Manhole in Green

I can't remember what type of tree produces this double seed pod (I use to know the scientific names of many trees and could identify them by their leaves, bark, and seeds), but as a kid I loved these. When they're larger, we'd pull them apart and break open the pod, then stick them to our noses like we were Pinocchios.

Happy (Photo) Friday!

Photo copyright: D.C. Confidential

In the BIN: What's Possible? And Does It Matter?

The other day, a friend of mine who blogs privately wrote about receiving a letter from her grandmother's best friend. Despite her grandmother having long passed away, her friend continues to write encouraging, uplifting, "I'm proud of you" kind of notes to my friend. In describing this for those of us who read her blog, my friend wrote, "It sort of chokes me up; it feels so nice when I often don't feel like anything I do is right by anyone anymore." I'll come back to this in a moment.

I think it's important to stay on top of what's going on in the world and to read or watch as many news and information sources as possible in an effort to get the whole story, but in truth, the news often depresses me. I tire of reading about human cruelty, government sponsored despotism, the degradation of democracy, murder and mayhem, child abuse, and the like. Like my friend who blogs privately, I, too, want to crawl under the covers, shutter all the windows, make like Howard Hughes in the desert (only without the crazy element), and just hide.

I often think, "Does any of it matter? Do I matter?" I often feel like regardless of what I do--whether it's help my next door neighbor carry in his groceries, spend a day putting up rooms full of wallboard with my dad, tutor an inner city kid, pick up litter, donate to a cause, or whatever--it doesn't make a difference in the overall scheme of humanity and decency and helpfulness. And even though I've advocated for greener living--I want to believe that recycling and using energy saving appliances and transportation really makes a difference for the earth and its inhabitants--I'm not as certain as a citizen of the most consumerist nation in the world that it's going to stick or be sustainable.

And that leads me back to my friend who blogs privately and the sentiments we share. Were it not for a few well-placed people in our lives, we might succumb to the despair, climb under the covers, shutter the windows, and make like Howard Hughes (without the crazy.) In other words, we might resign ourselves to the belief that the world really is going to hell in a handbasket and none of us--including me, myself, and I--can make a difference.

But then, things like notes from the lifelong friend of a grandmother restore my faith in humanity. Or, yesterday, the email I had from a friend telling a group of us that his mother's cancer has come back and she is dying. He wrote, "I don't know why I'm writing this exactly... but I thought I would... I dunno... share or something like that." This is a big, burly, manly man of a friend with the soul of a lion and the heart of a child. In his time of sadness he was being vulnerable and saying, "I can't bear this burden alone" and in reaching out to us, he asked us to make a difference. To feel like we matter. Because to him, we do.

You'll note that this entry's title begins with "In the BIN." As many of you know, when I title an entry like that, I'm usually highlighting a variety of really notable blog entries I've read or websites I've found recently. Not this time. This time, I want to highlight one website only. If you feel like nothing you do matters to anyone anymore or you have ideas about how to make a difference, but you need some inspiration to realize them, or you want to know that the world isn't just all bad news, don't waste another minute here. Go here and realize what's possible.

There's a new story every day, so even if you feel like you can't achieve what today's noted person is doing, there are stories to inspire you. This is one of my favorites.

Facebook? MySpace? Second Life? If I Choose Not to Participate, Does That Make Me Uncool?

The other day, a friend of mine emailed me and asked, "When are you going to get on Facebook?" My reply back went something like this:

Facebook. Ugh. I already spend way too much time on the Internets and the computer right now. Sounds like you’re enjoying it, though!

While "too much time on the computer" is the primary reason, I've largely resisted joining any of these virtual social networking sites because I believe in good old face-to-face interaction. That's not to say I believe I can't meet or make friends with people I meet online. The opposite is, in fact, true.

Cases in point: My friends, the Scary Feminists from Hell. We met when we were all in grad school and participated in an email list group of Mormon graduate students called LDS Grads. Had it not been for this august group of tribal members in academia spread all over the globe, my circle of friends would be significantly smaller and I never would have participated in Sunstone, enjoyed the Columbia River Gorge, had Thanksgiving in Reno, gone to an art opening in Manhattan, been a groomsperson in a wedding on the hottest day on record in Pasadena, included the insights of a friend in my master's thesis, or been a part of a host of other fun stuff and significant events over the years with this fabulous group of women.

My friends and acquaintances I've met and made through blogging, like Sister Mary Lisa or Sideon or Alice or the Gunfighter or Suzanne or Phoebe or Abgue or Cele. I've enjoyed reading about their lives and, when occasions have permitted, actually meeting them in person and sharing a meal and conversation that leaves me feeling enlightened and uplifted.

Or the YahooGroups I've participated in over the years that have brought me into contact with people who have become dear friends, like Bishop Aitch or the women who contributed to a collection of essays I assembled about Mormon women's faith and sexuality or the Great Women's Dinner group--a group of women I currently get together with every few months for dinner and laughs.

The Internets have certainly enriched my life and resulted in deep, lasting relationships I cherish, friendships I enjoy, and the acquaintance of smart, fun people.

But, I'm not 100% convinced that Facebook or MySpace or Second Life will do for me what I've already managed to achieve through group lists and blogging. In fact, all of these virtual social networking sites feel clique-ish, juvenile, and awkward--for lack of a better word. Having not enjoyed periods in my life, like high school, for exactly those reasons, I am, to quote Captain Barbossa, "Disinclined to acquiesce to your request. Means, 'no'."

More than that, these sites seem like places to hide in the safety of virtual--i.e. unreal--relationships that do little to encourage actual--i.e. real--social, face-to-face interaction. While I've been okay participating in group lists and blogging, I haven't made them my only social outlet, if that makes sense. I get out and among people regularly and I enjoy meeting the people I'm familiar with online. In fact, when I travel, I let people know where I'm going so if anyone in my known circle wants to get together, we can. The idea of traveling to California and not seeing Sideon, or Switzerland and not visiting The Swizzies or Dr. Lala, or Salt Lake and not meeting Abgue or Lolatini, or Pennsylvania and not hooking up with my cousin-xx-times-removed-or-something (we haven't figured it out yet, but we're pretty darn sure my great-grandmother and her grandfather were siblings) Holly seem like opportunities missed and wasted .

And then there are the people whose blogs I enjoy and whom it might be fun to meet one day if all the stars aligned properly. (I won't list them here. I'd hate to creep them out. Besides, while I might think it would be great to meet them, they might not feel the same. And who wants to be in that awkward social situation? I like this kind of stuff to happen naturally.)

So, am I missing something? I am totally unhip or uncool? Should I get on the Facebook bandwagon? Personally, I'm perfectly happy where I am, but if my next job hinges on whether I'm hip to Facebook, I'm screwed.

Inside Out

This is the view outside our bathroom window on the second floor. I'm amending this entry, because previously I pointed out a flaw in the picture. In truth, only I see it and it seems unnecessary to point it out. Hope you enjoy this little glimpse of green!

To enjoy more green photography, go here. To read about the repurposing of trees as environmental solutions versus beautification projects, go here. To read why I think everyone should turn off their televisions and go outside, go here.

Happy (Photo) Friday!

Photo copyright: D.C. Confidential

This [Country] Needs An Enema!

The Washington Post is reporting that Tom Cruise is returning to Oprah's couch next month. This would be non-news, really, but seems she's having him on for two shows.

Why?

Why??

To quote Jack Nicholson as The Joker in Batman, "This [country] needs an enema."

Dear Oprah:

Give us a break.

If you want to feature someone interesting, intelligent, and noteworthy who also possesses star quality, why don't you invite Alan Rickman or Dame Judith Dench or Dame Helen Mirren or Leonardo DiCaprio or Sharon Stone or someone who's actually worth watching and listening to?

Tom Cruise? Whatever.

As for the rest of you out there who are dribbling with glee over Tom's impending two-dayer, go outside and play. It's Springtime and it's beautiful. Find a quiet corner and read a book. Play with your kids. Whatever. But for the love of God, turn off that frigging television and get a life!

Don't Tell My Parents, But I'm Really a Boy!

Thank God for the Internets. Without them, we'd all wander in a reality of confusion and discord. Thankfully, there's the Gender Genie. According to its algorithm, my writing indicates I'm male.

I copied some text from this blog entry into their nifty, spiffy genie and this is what I got back:


Thinking there was/is a glitch in the algorithm--but what do I know from algorithms? Zilch. Nada. Zip. I suck at math and stuff like this in general--I tried it again with this entry.

This is what I got back. (Click on image to enlarge. Frankly, I don't know why this screen shot turned out smaller than the one above. Could this be GGD? Gender Genie Discrimination?)


Now I'm a female.

Conclusion: My writing is androgynous, ergo I am androgynous. Either that, or the Gender Genie is sexist.

Tewkesbury Ward Service Project. Or, How Not to Landscape.

My frontyard. This little patch of green is about 6 x 9.
I hate, hate, hate those three bushes.
And I'm torn as to whether to do anything with the porch.
(Click on image to enlarge.)

One of the things I've not liked about our home is the lack of landscaping in the yard. Granted, it's not a very big yard, so there's not a lot of room to do spectacular things. (See above.) But, I'm not looking for spectacular. I'm looking for colorful, proportional, easily maintained, and healthy.

Case in point with the last want on that list: the side yard. (See below.) It only gets about an hour of sun in the summer afternoon, otherwise it's shaded. Grass hasn't done well here and it's poorly terraced (as in, the idiot who flipped it, stacked cinder block-like pavers three high and three across and called it good.)

The awful, awful, gets-little-shade-in-the-summer sideyard. As much as I hate the three bushes, I really hate this feature on the house. Eventually, those stairs you see in the far background will be removed and replaced with a safer structure that will also double as a garden shed underneath. Don't be deceived by the green, semi-lushness in this picture. It's spring and it's been raining here the last few days, so it looks healthier than it really is. (Click image to enlarge.)

The backyard, what little there is, is an absolute eyesore, but I have a solution for it already. I'm going to till the soil to loosen it, then I'll dig out and discard a good five inches of it and put down recovered brick. This will expand the parking possibilities and/or provide a space for planters that can be moved and placed as wanted/needed. That part's figured out.

It's the side and front I can't figure out. So, here's the deal: looking at the two pictures I've posted above and knowing that I want to get rid of this stupid trio of cheap, crappy bushes and knowing that, not to repeat myself, "I'm looking for colorful, proportional, easily maintained, and healthy," what would you do or recommend for this space?

Oh, and as an added caveat, I'm also looking for plants or landscaping devices that are repellent to cats. While I'm grateful for the hoards and herds of feral cats in our neighborhood--I've seen nary a rat, mouse, or cockroach inside or out since moving here. I use to see them all the time when I lived downtown--I'm not grateful that they use my yard as a litter box.

Help!

Irony Reaches New Heights

Could there be anything more ironic or sickening than this?

I'd Like to Stand On My Feet...

Updated on 04.25.08

Here's what we have so far from the first Fast & Testimony Picnic:

I'd like to remain sitting...or perhaps lazing on my back...and say that I don't Know anything. But I believe that friends and picnics are a good reason for life to be sweet. I do know that if it's too hot and humid, I'd rather have an indoor picnic. I would feel very ungrateful if I let today go by without publicly expressing how grateful I am for picnics...and really food in general. I don't know what I can say without getting way too sappy about it, but something about how true friends make life worth living. I would like to say, Thank you for this spread before us, for we are blessed with good friends and growing butt, and no one gives a damn beyond communing. Yada, yada, yada. Blah, blah, blah. As Choir Director it falls upon me to make sure we have many and assorted libations. Can I hear an AMEN? Any key will suffice. Webster's Dictionary defines the word "Whoa Nelly Furtado" as: an improvement on "Whoa Nelly" as in: "Whoa Nelly--where do you think you're going with that chocolate fondue? Park it here!" I would also be ungrateful if I didn't loll before you today and tell you how blessed we are to be in the Tewkesbury Ward. I know this ward is true and the picnics and the camaraderie are better here than in any other ward I've ever been in. I know beyond the shadow of a doubt that this picnic is true, and that the drinking is truly inspired. I promised myself I wouldn't do this, but--*sniff*--I want to thank all those who brought adult beverages, because you've made my calling truly rewarding. Can I stumble in late? As your... ummmm... I have forgotten my calling... Could that be because I am, apparently, habitually late and sick for all things Tewkesbury-Ward related? I think it was something like Deliverance Syndicate Leader??? Yeah! That's it. As your Deliverance Syndicate Leader, I would like to bare my testimony of the truthfulness of the principals taught here in the Tewkesbury Ward. And the picnics are the best ever! I know this with every fiber of my being.


Picnic food, thus far:

1 case of porsecco
Boxes of fudgesicles
Rhubarb-ginger tart with vanilla ice cream
Pistachio salad
Assorted libations
1 Grande Mocha Frappacino Light
Lentil, roasted red pepper and feta salad with lemon mint dressing
Granny's potato salad dressed up with spicy mustard and dill
More adult beverage
Cool Ranch Doritos
A pitcher of Pimm's
Funeral potatoes

There's still time to participate in the Fast & Testimony Picnic. To leave your sentence (or two or three) and what you're bringing to the picnic, please leave a comment here.

Fast & Testimony Picnic I

A few months ago, I wrote that this was my new favorite saying. That inspired my friend, Alice of Alice's Adventures Underground to comment, if she could find a way to incorporate the aforementioned quote into a talk for church, she would.

One thing led to another and before you could say "pass the funeral potatoes" at the church potluck, I'd passed around a cyber sign-up sheet where everyone chose what their role would be if we were to create a de facto ward/congregation where sayings like the previously aforementioned could be quoted. We ended up with an eclectic bunch of fabulous folk who wanted to be everything from program-hander-outers to colorful, crazy person, from Gospel Doctrine Reconstruction teacher to Critical Thinking Development advisor, from custodian of the Holy Damn Cat and habitually late attender to the Holy Goat and hall roamer. We even have a couple of people who have chosen to be Very Important Pew People and/or participants in the choir.

Finally, and faster than you can say, "I know the Gospel is true with every fiber of my being," the New Order was called to order and Aitch Emm in the Ewe Kay was officially declared bishop. (The decision about who would be bishop was purely unilateral. My blog. My call! Besides, it was Aitch who suggested to Alice, back in the first entry that started all of this, how she might edit the heretofore aforementioned quote into a talk, which then [d]evolved into comments about a personal device called a She-Wee. Apparently, said holy relic saved Aitch in a few dire situations in Poland last year. [One day, that story will no doubt acquire apocryphal meaning and significance and will be the foundation of many a faith promoting tale and rumor in our new little order.])

The bottom line is, we created the Tewkesbury Ward and decided that in lieu of Fast & Testimony meetings we would have Fast & Testimony picnics.

Only two rules apply: first, there has to be food and second, each person must contribute one sentence to the collective testimony. Extra points are awarded for creative testimony involving singing or costume change or delivered by 'charade' method.

Leave your sentence contribution to the collective testimony in the comments. For the latter three options, please post your contribution to your blog and leave a link to such in the comments. Also, in all cases, please be sure to tell us what you're bringing to the picnic.

Whoever leaves a comment first is the one who kicks off the picnic.

All those in favor, manifest it. Any opposed, by the same sign.

I'll kick it off here.

I'd like to stand on my feet...

(Oh, and Happy (Photo) Friday!)

Photo copyright: D.C. Confidential.

Fast & Testimony Picnic is a Tewkesbury Ward trademark.
All rights reserved.
Any resemblance to persons living or dead or caught up in translation, rapture, resurrection
or any other kind of explained-only-by-religion phenomenon is purely coincidental.

Stained Glass

Stained glass window in the Renwick Chapel,
Oak Hill Cemetery, Georgetown, Washington, DC

Last week, while Bee was hanging out with her cousins, I toodled over to Georgetown to visit a cemetery I could only see from Rock Creek Parkway and have wanted to explore for more than a year now. I finally found my way into Oak Hill Cemetery and wandered its narrow lanes for the better part of an hour or so. I didn't see or photograph all I wanted to, so I plan to go back. But I did step into the Renwick Chapel to snap this picture of the chapel's largest stained glass window.

Among the notables buried in Oak Hill: Katherine Graham, one of Washington's most loved and respected women. Graham took over the reins of the Washington Post after the death of her husband, Philip, in the 1960s and led the paper to greatness. She oversaw Woodward and Bernstein as they broke the story that would lead to the resignation of Richard Nixon. She and her husband are buried in the small garden of the Renwick Chapel beneath a humble gravestone that says simply "Graham." Classy to the end!

Happy (Photo) Friday.

P.S. I misspoke earlier this week in my post on things that make me peckish... err... peevish. Microsoft Vista is an operating system. It's not too bad. What had my goat is Microsoft Office Suite 2007. That software upgrade is an absolute nightmare. It's so bad that later today, my brother is coming over and removing it from Bee's PC and installing Office 2003. Sorry for the confusion!

Photo copyright: D.C. Confidential

Things That Make Me Peckish...

Yeah, I'm in one of those moods today. It matches the weather, which is gray and overcast and cold and damp-to-the-bone and just depressingly un-spring-like. Plus, I'm PMS'ing. So there. You've been warned.

Things that make me peckish include the following and in no particular hierarchy of peckishness:

1. Playlist.com

I'm sure you've seen this little widget on blogs and MySpace and Facebook pages everywhere. It's that annoying little gadget that starts playing the blog owner's favorite music the minute you open their web page or whatever. I wouldn't mind it so much if most people I know with these actually had decent taste in music. Unfortunately, they don't. The sad part is, most of the people I know with these widgets are related to me.

Primary result: I have to mute my computer's speakers or pause their playlist so I don't have to listen to Janice Kapp Perry's Top 10 or 50 Greatest Hits of Christian Pop or whatever while I'm reading their blogs.

Secondary result: Despite most of these Playlist.com users being related to me, I have decided, I am not related to them.

2. Microsoft Vista

If you haven't upgraded, DON'T! Could there be a stupider, more ill-conceived software upgrade on the planet? Microsoft Vista is further proof that we're all a bunch of soft-minded, mushy-brained, spineless lemmings. Microsoft knows it can fob this shit off on us and we won't do a damn thing about it, except piss and moan, then hunker down, suck it up, and learn to deal while the Evil Empire laughs all the way to the bank. Again.

Primary result: A strong desire to fling Bee's PC with Microsoft Vista straight out the window.

Secondary result: Uninstalling Microsoft Vista and replacing it with good old, reliable, user-friendly Microsoft XP. (Who ever thought you'd find the words "reliable" and "user-friendly" in the same sentence with Microsoft?)

3. Doctors Who Don't Listen to Me

For more than two years now, I've been begging my gynecologist for a hysterectomy. For two years now, she has poo-poo'ed my begging. For more than two years now, everything about being a woman biologically has made me achy, tired, and, more recently, bitchy. I'm done with that.

Primary result: I'm calling my insurance company this week to find out what requirements have to be met for the aforementioned procedure to be covered by their evil asses/my healthcare policy.

Secondary result: I'm finding a new doctor who will take me seriously and not dismiss me with a passive-aggressive feint (i.e. calling my bluff snidely.)

4. WikiAnswers

This past weekend, Bee had cousins in town for a family wedding. On Friday night, I took them on my famous "Washington at Night" tour. (It's a really good tour. If you ever come to visit me, I'll take you on it and I promise you'll love it.) One of Bee's cousins asked, "Which monument is the oldest" on the National Mall. I was stumped. I wanted to say the Washington Monument, but I wasn't 100% sure and I said as much. Today, I went to Google and typed in the words "oldest monument Washington DC" and was directed to WikiAnswers where this was the answer (click on the image to enlarge.) Be sure to pay special attention to the yellow box above the Q and A:


Primary result: I'm signing up for WikiAnswers and giving them a piece of my mind. Morons!

Secondary result: I'm going back to bed and only getting up again when the intelligence quotient of the average citizen in this country meets or exceeds the minimum I.Q. of Albert Einstein when he was five years old.

P.S. The Washington Monument is the oldest monument/memorial on the National Mall. Construction commenced in 1848, was postponed by lack of funding and the Civil War, resumed in 1875, and was dedicated in 1885. The youngest monument/memorial on the National Mall is the World War II Memorial. Building started in 2001 and was finished and dedicated in 2004. Just so's ya know...

In all fairness, there are also things that don't make me peckish. Today, they happen to be:

1. This Joke

Did you hear the one about the dyslexic devil worshiper?

Seems he sold his soul to Santa.

Hee hee hee. Love that!

2. The Big Broadcast on WAMU 88.5

If you like old-time radio shows, this is the station to listen to on Sunday evenings between 7:00 and 11:00 ET. Every Sunday evening, WAMU 88.5 has a program with Ed Walker called The Big Broadcast. Last night, I listened to Dragnet, Gunsmoke, The Lone Ranger, Johnny Dollar, and a couple of other mystery shows and, like Sundays' past, thoroughly enjoyed myself.

As a kid growing up in Utah, we use to listen to KSL on the AM dial. Every evening at 8:00, they played Radio Mystery Theater narrated by E.G. Marshall. I loved that shows with its creepy, rusty-hinged door opening intro and Marshall just as creepily intoning, "Gooooood Evvvvening..." That show use to scare the bejesus out of me, but I loved it! And it was something we shared with our mom, who grew up with radio shows and instilled a similar love in us.

3. Fun Facts About Pope Benedict XIV

The Pope is coming! The Pope is coming!

Yeah, seems Herr Benedict is coming to Washington, D.C. Merchandising has already started and little factoid sites have been popping up all over the place in an effort to educate all of us about His Holiness. Seems the dude knows how to fly a helicopter, but never learned how to drive a car. Apparently, he also has a fondness for cats. (Maybe I could give him the Dirty Bastard Cat as a token of goodwill.) Oh, and some brewery in his home state of Bavaria has brewed and named a beer after him called Pabstbier. Lucky guy!

Of course, I never poke fun at other faiths without poking fun at my own tribe. I think it's wrong not to be equally opportunistic in my teasing. So, here's something for a good eyeroll from the Mormons. Worst piece of Mormon "art" I've seen. Ever.

4. Discovering that Washington, D.C., once had an Embassy of the Confederacy

Yep, it's true.

Down on 16th Street there's a home that once was the Confederate Memorial Hall after the secession of hostilities that ended the Civil War. Apparently, it served as the Confederate Memorial Association's embassy to the nation's capitol. From what I can gather, though, in a fit of persecution and hatred, the U.S. Courts (of Northern Aggression, I might add,) forced them to close their doors nearly 10 years ago.

I'd love to be invited to dinner parties in that home. Can you imagine the conversations?

There.

Things that make me peckish. And things that don't.

And now I need to decide what to have for dinner. Any suggestions?

Random Stuff at Night

3:04 A.M.

Should be in bed. Instead, I'm sitting in the dark. The only light, the glow of my MacBook screen illuminating me and the room. Harsh, cold, bright light. Nothing warm about it.

Rain falls softly and intermittently. I like the sound it makes on the glass, but am grateful it's gentle so I don't have to worry about the leaky window that needs fixing, has needed fixing since we moved in.

In the distance, a train blows its horn. Long blasts. A warning. At this time of night, who's foolish enough to be on a train bed or near a train? I can hear it approaching now. The tracks run through Fort Totten, along Blair Road, through Takoma Park, into Silver Spring, on to Kensington, and from there I lose track. (No pun intended.)

The sound of trains is comforting to me. It brings back happy memories of childhood. Growing up in Provo, Utah, and listening to the trains switch in the yard a mile or so from our home. Visiting California and watching the trains run through Gram's and Gramp's backyard. Driving to Wyoming to visit my other grandparents and watching the miles-long trains carrying freight up the geologically diverse grades pulled by the bright yellow engines of the Union Pacific RR. The sight of my cousin engineering the Heber Creeper.

Ironically, though, if I have to travel to New York on business, I fly. For me, it's just easier. And yet, traveling by train has its advantages. When I lived in Austria, I traveled a lot by train and loved it! The large, picture windows allow views of sweeping valleys and soaring alpine ranges; winding, commerce-laden barges ply rivers protected by decaying castles and fortresses that bespeak an earlier, often romanticized time in history.

The rumble of a train is as soothing to me as the sound of the ocean...

*****

I spend too much time blogging. Actually, a more accurate statement would be, I have too many blogs.

There's this one. And my photography one. And the family reunion blog. And one I'm starting for my resume writing services. And a couple here or there that I dabble in privately.

Too many blogs.

Fortunately, Blogger/Google has finally seen the light and entered the modern era by adding scheduled publishing to their blog features. Alleluia and it's about friggin' time!

Speaking of blogging, though, I've been a slacker when it comes to commenting. I read somewhere recently that if you want more traffic on your blog, you need to read TONS of blogs and leave comments all over the place.

Sometimes, I wonder what it would be like to have 30, 40, 50, 75, 100 comments per entry. Heady, for sure. But then I realize, I'm happy with what I have. It is more than enough. Especially lately, as I've been so lousy about reading and commenting on the few blogs I do read. It's not that I'm not interested, per se. It's that I already spend too much time parked in front of my computer and I feel like life is passing me by.

And yet...

*****

I finally made in-roads with the Dirty Bastard Cat while Bee was in California over Easter. Seems he had to like me because I was the one feeding him and scooping out his litter box (nasty contraptions, those. Foul things.) He and I finally achieved a rapprochement I had only previously dreamed.

Well, I blew it all in fell swoop the other night.

Seems the DBC didn't like being sequestered in the basement family room while we had guests over and he decided to take it out on the DVD collection that lines the stairs. When I caught up with him, he was at the top of the stairs, pushing DVDs off the shelf and watching them tumble down, down, down. My Mel Brooks collection was ignominiously strewn about, as was American Beauty, March of the Penguins, and several other movies too numerous to recall.

In a huff, I picked up the DVDs and marched up the stairs, where I proceeded to scold the little shithead. He growled at me. I swung a DVD in his direction to warn him off. He zigged as I zagged and the DVD caught him full on in the face.

Now we're back at square one where he hisses and spits at me.

Dirty bastard cat.

*****

3:25 A.M.

Still raining.

Another train rolls through the neighborhood.

It's Sunday everywhere but where it isn't. Back in Honolulu, it's still Saturday. In Tonga, it's going to be Monday soon. I think. Damn Greenwich. Damn International Date Line.

When my sister lived in Hong Kong, I was living in California. I use to have arguments with my family about who was closer to her in terms of time. They lived in Virginia. Geographically, I was closer, but when it came to the hands on the clock moving in their circumference, my family was closer. My sister finally had to settle the argument during her annual Christmas call. "Jay is further away," was the answer.

Personally, I think we should be like the Chinese and abolish time zones. But where's the fun in that, right? Or maybe that is the fun. I forget.

Really, we should abolish daylight saving time, but I won't go there. Apparently, I have a propensity for ranting about that every year like clockwork. I hate to be predictable.

*****

And speaking of clockwork, it's now 3:46 A.M. and I have no clue what the point of this is, but I know my friend Di will like it because it's me, randomly streaming my conscious.

That's about all I have lately. Random streaming. I'm like a pointless, awful Carpenter's song trying to make contact with space aliens who are trying to make contact with interplanetary earth and I still have no clue why.

I turn 40 in a few weeks and I'm not happy about that.

I miss 30. I liked 30. It was a great age. Oh, I know, I know. I can't wish for the past. But if I could go back, well...

Anyone who tells you they wouldn't do anything differently if they could go back in time is a liar and full of shit. Plain and simple. I don't care who you are or what your life experience has been...

I think I'm going to stop there, because I feel a full-on snark coming and I'd rather not. If I start now, I'll never get any sleep.

*****

3:51 A.M.

I hear the distant rumble of another train. Or maybe I just think I do as my thoughts are carried away and rumble into the recesses of a mind touched by experience, left a little wiser, perhaps even a little sadder.

Bridge

The Chesapeake Bay Bridge from Sandy Point State Park in Maryland

On my way home from Sue Thompson's house on Wednesday afternoon, I made a detour at Sandy Point State Park on the Bay to take pictures of the Chesapeake Bay Bridge. I don't mind bridges over water, but I have to say, this bridge makes me nervous. Having traveled and commuted on bridges in the San Francisco Bay Area, I'm accustomed to bridges that are earthquake retrofitted and are constantly maintained with fresh paint to prevent corrosion. The CBB has minimal barriers, looks like its made from Tinker Toys, and needs a paint job worse than granny's house!

All of that aside, though, it does make a purty picture!

Happy (Photo) Friday!


Photo copyright: D.C. Confidential

Who Needs a Tree Hugger When You Can Have a Head Hugger?

You may recall way back in December, I mentioned reading a blog post by Susan Neibuhr (aka: WhyMommy) at Toddler Planet and posting a comment on her blog that inspired me to action. I posted a revised version of my comment on my blog and issued a challenge called the Holiday Party Meme Charity Event. For every blogger who participated in the meme, I said I would donate $5 to the charity of Susan's choice.

At around the same time, I became involved with a site for photographers called 2 Things Challenge. The site is maintained by a lovely woman in Texas named Debi Cates, who is also a fabulous photographer! (Debi is currently on hiatus, but her archives are totally worth visiting.) One of my meme options was to participate in that week's 2 Things Challenge. Debi was so taken with the idea, she stepped up and agreed to throw in $5 for anyone who participated in the challenge that week. In the end, Debi and I raised $200 for charity.

We asked Susan where she'd like us to direct the money we raised and she listed a couple of charities and one-person operations she has supported in her battle with inflammatory breast cancer. One of the organizations she included was a one-woman shop called Head Huggers. Yesterday, I finally made it out to Stevensville, Maryland, near Annapolis to present a check for $200 to Head Huggers' owner, operator, and huge-hearted-heroine extraordinaire, Sue Thompson, M.D.

Right after the terrorist attacks in 2001, Sue wanted to give back to the community in some way. She'd recently retired from her medical practice as a general practitioner and had time on her hands. Sue is a prolific knitter and crocheter and she had a friend who introduced her to a woman who was battling cancer. The friend's friend complained that one of the side effects of chemotherapy--hair loss--resulted in her head always being cold. That gave Sue the idea she was looking for and a channel for her knitting and crocheting passion and she was off!

Since 2001, Sue has enlisted the aid of retirees in assisted living communities and retirement homes, as well as women inmates at the women's prison in Towson, Maryland. The result: Sue and her army of knitters and crocheters have made more than 50,000 hats over the last six years and have mailed just as many to cancer patients and treatment centers all over the United States!

Sue Thompson, Founder and Organizer of Head Huggers--
a network of knitters and crocheters who make chemo caps for cancer patients.
Behind her, just a fraction of the yarn people have donated to her.

Over the years, people have donated boxes and boxes of skeins of yarn. Sue distributes the yarn to her network of knitters and crocheters, who turn the yarn into hats for a variety of climates: warm hats for cool climates, cool hats for warm climates, inbetween hats for inbetween climates. You name it and she has a hat for where you are if you're fighting cancer.

Sue continues to ply her good works, but she's slowing down a little because postage has become expensive and she and her husband live on a fixed income. That said, I'm making a plug for Sue and her wonderful Head Huggers organization. If you have yarn you want to get rid of, Sue will be happy to help you put it to good use. You can send it to her and she and her team of volunteers will continue to knit and crochet hats. If you knit or crochet and you'd like a creative outlet and you're looking for a way to give back to the community, contact Sue and become a part of her Head Huggers network. Most importantly, if you can spare a few dollars, send her a check and designate the donation for postage to help her defray the cost of shipping these wonderful hats to those in need. You can contact Sue via her website.

Sue Thompson doing what she loves and giving back to the community!

In a world full of war and discord, sickness and pain, Sue Thompson and the men and women who knit and crochet for Head Huggers are making a difference. I want to thank all of you who participated in the Holiday Party Meme Charity Event. Your willingness to play along is making a difference in the lives of cancer patients nationwide.

Thank you!

Photo copyright: D.C. Confidential

I Confess: I'm a Little OCD

I think I mentioned previously that last week, I engaged in spring cleaning in a ginormous way.

My proudest organizing achievement was the linen closet in the upstairs hallway. (Click on images to enlarge.)

Here are the before pictures:

Here are the after pictures:

Four words:
Container Store Plastic Shoeboxes.
Love 'em.
LOVE.THEM.
Love them so much, if they were sentient, I'd marry them.

And here's a picture of the clutter-free countertops in my kitchen (meaning, drink mixes, teas, extraneous stuff has been put away) and my spic-and-span fridge. It positively glows!



Happy House!