I remember every face

After this week, and this bloody election, I’m harking back to my roots. Those would be Dylan and Nina.

‘Nuff said.

 

 

Dining update

As we wait out the election—and our disappointment in the electorate’s choice of Senators—seems like a good time for me to give you pix of the takeout meals I ate last week.

Sushi, from Yoko Sushi:

Entrecôte au poivre, from Café Montmartre:

(No photo of the mousse au chocolat, but it was the best I’ve ever had.)

Scampi, from Gregorio’s Trattoria:

(This was the biggest disappointment of the week; not nearly enough garlic and the linguine was decidedly meh. How meh, you inquire? This meh: I put the leftover linguine out on the patio on Sunday, and neither the birds nor the squirrels would touch it. Some critter in the night took it, so possibly a hit with raccoons, possums or skunks.)

Persian lamb, from Rose Restaurant:

(That was two meals’ worth. Every bite lovely. Their baklava, however; meh.)

Roast chicken with thick-cut bacon and mushrooms, from Mon Ami Gabi:

(It was okay; the mushrooms were the best part. I added the broccolini. And their chocolate mousse might have been fine except I’d had Café M’s only a few days earlier.)

Friday I made my usual pizza bianca insalata; no pic. Saturday was left over chicken. And I am inexplicably unable to show you Sunday’s seared salmon from Cooper’s Hawk. It was absolutely delicious, so clearly I’ll have to get it another night and take a photo for you.

I also made a point of having breakfast at the dining table, as opposed to in front of a screen. The pain au chocolate is a bake-yourself from Trader Joe; I made café au lait to go with it. As is my custom when traveling, I used that time to add to my journal. My last entry prior to last week was 12 March, the day before I started WFH. I had a lot to catch up on.

Sorry all I can share with you is the photos. Many of these meals were absolutely top notch; they would have improved for me having someone to join me. Maybe on my next vacation?

 

 

 

 

 

Cauchemar

 

Folks, I got nothing today. This nightmare is not ending soon, and I just have nothing to say.

I hate you, 2020.

Why we fight

Well, today’s the day. It’s going to be hard for me to spend my day on the computer without trying to look at the news every three minutes, so every time I’m tempted, I’m going to have to instead do a yoga pose.

I really have no words for you today, so let me instead give you some pictures of America to remind you what’s at stake and what we can be when we really try.

I shot this photo while visiting my BFF in Oregon one autumn. It reminds me of the natural beauty of this land, and of the years of friendship we shared:

This one’s from the Great River Road on the border of Wisconsin and Minnesota—which is hardly great, rather far from the (Mississippi) River and not much of a road. But still. For many, many people, this is the heartland—it was and maybe it still is, I dunno:

To me, this commercial mashup epitomizes the strength and richness of the American experience; I shot it in Glendale, Calif., in the last century, but these days it could be in a lot of cities:

Technically speaking, this isn’t America. Well, actually speaking, it’s not America. I took it on my pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela. But it’s always reminded me that poco a poco, se va lejos, and in times like these, even incremental shifts toward the good are to be valued:

This one’s from the Renaissance Pleasure Faire and Maymarket, back in the Old Days in Agoura (now nothing but housing tracts and strip malls; progress, man). But it’s always made me smile. I took the French language assistant (a Parisian) to the Faire one year, and she marveled at seeing Americans dress up in costumes (many rather lame, tbh, but efforts all the same)—the French would never do that, she said. Yeah, prolly not:

Two photos from Arlington National Cemetery, to remind us of the cost of bringing us to where we stand. The second one is from Memorial Day 2016, in Section 60, where the most recent dead are joining comrades from the past. These are not losers or suckers; they are men and women who paid for our way of life with their lives. Imagine that:

This is from two weeks ago: Fairfax County Public Library adjusting to the reality of being eight months into a pandemic without national leadership:

And finally—tonight I light candles for hope. And courage. And  faith in America.

 

Gratitude Monday: holding the line

Tomorrow, as all the world knows, is a Big Day, and there’s so much riding on the outcome. We’ve already seen what happens when the highest authority in the land not only condones but encourages lawlessness, and it makes my heart sick that this is happening in my country. 

There is no doubt whatsoever in my mind that Cadet Bonespurs and his ilk will try to steal the election if it doesn’t go their way. They’ve spent months eliminating voters from the rolls, restricting voting options in the middle of a pandemic, lying about the validity of mail-in ballots and intimidating voters at the polls. If all that doesn’t work, well, as an acquaintance of mine proclaimed on Facebook, they’ve “loaded their magazines”. Because "antifa".

These are mostly white people who’ve swallowed a load of crap about how their “freedoms” are endangered by non-white people; that’s easier for them to believe than that they’re the buggy makers in the age of automobiles and they should adapt to the new. No, they want the planet to stop whirling, and return to the days when they were told they had it made, and the world was only right when they were running things without any objections or criticisms from their inferiors.

They view “equality” as a threat, because—like Bonespurs—they see everything (including freedom) as zero sum. Whatever anyone else has means less for them, and they’re not having it. They believe this is their last chance to right the course of the country, and it’s making them desperate. And we know what desperate people do. Especially if they’re packing military-grade firearms and are egged on by the mouth-foaming bluster of a man whose ill behavior they’d not tolerate in their living room for longer than eight minutes without bitchslapping him.

As long as he’s in the White House, not their house, however, he’s telling it like it is, and owning the libs. He’s their last, best hope, and that makes them all pathetic. Even with their armory.

Well, so what to be grateful for today? What?

People have been standing in lines for hours during the past few weeks to cast their votes. I’m deeply grateful for them.

People have been helping and encouraging new citizens and young people to register and vote. You guys totally rock!

Lawyers have been filing suit in every possible jurisdiction to block Republican efforts to make non-Republican voting impossible. I love you guys, and I’m proud to support the ACLU.

Companies and organizations are working tirelessly to hunt down and prevent foreign interference in the election. One of them is my employer and I cannot tell you how grateful and proud I am to be a part of that fight against cybercrime and cyberespionage.

This is going to be a rough week; we cannot expect Bonespurs or the Repugs to take the civil or decent route whatever happens. I admit—I am scared in a way that I’ve never been before. But I’m thankful that there are those who are standing up for the values this country has aspired to for nearly 250 years. I hope to God we can hold the line.

 

 

Stand my ground

Citizens have been voting early in record numbers this year; we’re voting like our lives depend upon it.

 So we should have a bit of the cram-it-clownie spirit for today’s earworm, the final Friday before official Election Day. I was thinking about Dr. Loco and his Rockin’ Jalapeño Band’s “¡Muévete!”, because move on is what we’re about to do. But it’s a little arcane for right now. Then there’s Tracey Chapman’s “Talkin’ about a Revolution”; but it’s not quite got the beat I want.

No, I think Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers fill the bill with “I Won’t Back Down”. Crank up the volume.

And vote. Our lives depend upon it.

 

 

Winterized

The People’s Republic branch of the Fairfax County Public library has a few sculptures in its forecourt. I noticed a while ago that this one has been given a winter addition.

What’s really interesting is that the scarf has stayed up there for at least a couple of weeks. Perhaps a kinder, gentler era is upon us?

 

 

 

Staycay report

My vacation so far, shaped to a certain extent by the rainy weather: 

Monday I filled the car with petrol, so if I decide to pop into town, I’m good. I also did a spot of grocery shopping and rescheduled my December dental appointment. (I’d have been fine except my dentist has been called for jury duty.)

(This time, I promise I’ll pay attention to the patient instructions. Last time, I picked up the voice mail reminding me of the appointment and just thought, “Oh, right.” I didn’t listen to the whole voicemail, and it turns out there’s a protocol for numbers of patients, which I violated. I was a moron.)

On my way home, I stopped by the library to pick up a book on hold. Someone’s got the Poirot franchise from Agatha Christie’s estate. I’m not sure yet how much I like it, but it’s such a luxury to read in the afternoon on a weekday.

I also had quite the yoga session. By the end, both my instructor’s cat and I were quite worn out. But it was a good worn out.

Dinner on Monday was Italian; I have to say that both the scampi and the tiramisu were somewhat pedestrian. But it was a place I haven’t been to before, and you’re not going to hit it out of the park every time.

Yesterday I went over to Vienna to get my flu shot at that branch of my primary care practice. (I am not going into downtown DC unless I have to.) I ran into a glass wall on my way out—just did not see it, and I wasn’t even fiddling with my mobile phone. I was looking at the markings on the floor for social distancing and the first thing I knew was the THONK sound and my glasses scrunching against my face.

(Fortunately, they did not break. They cost about $1K, even with insurance, so that would have been catastrophic. Glad I sprang for the crash-resistant lenses.)

So now I have a shiner and know what the birds who fly into my patio door feel like.

After that, I tried to find some pumpernickel flour at the Vienna Whole Foods, but no luck. Imma have to order that online.

I also walked the labyrinth, which always improves my outlook; even when I’m bleeding above my eye. (I heard the ducks on the pond, but this time they didn’t join me.) Pro tip: avoid Holy Comforter around noon on weekdays; that’s when the child care lets out and the parking lot fills up with ginormous SUVs.

Last thing I did was collect my Persian supper. Then home to read some more. I’ve also started listing all my annual medical expenses, so I can estimate what to do about an HSA. Also started the information/advice process on refinancing the house and the process for sorting the wiring in the kitchen.

So, on the whole, I’ve really enjoyed this time. It’s not Sorrento in the spring, but it’s a good mix of getting stuff done and just hanging. Except for the shiner. I could have done without that.

 

 

Man of the house

Ladies and gentlemen: allow me to introduce Cedric: 

I finally broke down on Prime Day and ordered a Roomba. I’ve been wanting one for bleepin’ ever.

Cedric and I are getting to know one another, and I have to dredge out the password to my wi-fi network to get him to operate optimally. (Also—man, but you have to lift all the cords and cables out of his way so he doesn’t get all bolixed up in them.) The other day I closed him up in a bedroom where I wanted him to concentrate his efforts. I forgot about him and then wondered about all the bumping sounds I was hearing in that direction; for a while I wondered what my neighbor was up to until I remembered he was at work.

When I announced my desire some time ago on Facebook, I said that I wanted one that could also mop and climb up on the furniture to dust. My friend, the Viking Maiden, laughed and said, “That’s a maid!”

Well, she’s right—and Cedric does not mop. But he’s a start.

 

 

 

 

Gratitude Monday: time away

Here’s today’s gratitude for me: I am officially on PTO, and I’m off work until Election Day. It’s been a long haul, the past few months; we got our new platform launched, and it’s going well. But I am so looking forward to being away from it all.

There a lot of things I need to get done: flu shot; refinance the house so I don’t give another penny to Wells Fargo (my mortgage got sold on twice within a year of me buying the place); set up the replacing of my AC and furnace (not this week; they can do it while I’m back in the saddle); get electricians out to add outlets in the kitchen and estimate the LOE (level of effort—and cost) of breaking my kitchen into two circuits; select the coming year’s benefits; etc.

But I’m also doing things I’d be doing if I were traveling, even though I can’t travel. I'm reading past my bedtime. I’m treating myself to three yoga lessons instead of the usual one. (I’d get a manicure, except last week I snapped one of my nails off right at the nail bed.) Go to parks and spend a lot of time walking and observing. And eating lovely meals that I don’t have to cook (or clean up after).

Saturday I got sushi from Yoko Sushi. Yesterday, it was entrecôte au poivre from Café Montmartre. Tonight I’m thinking something Persian. Dunno yet about tomorrow, but on Wednesday I’ve got my eye on bouillabaisse from L’Auberge Chez François.

Notifications are off and I am just living in the moment. I’m so grateful to have an employer and team of colleagues who allow—even encourage—this. Peace out.