Alaska

It's that time of the week - injecting a little geographic exploration into an otherwise sedentary life.

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I've been a bit slow to recap on Alaska - it was a great trip and I have hundreds of photos to post so it's tough choosing among them.

Luckily, due in part to SMID's haranguing, I have become much better about actually taking photos. I used to go places and just not bother. Not so much not bother, but rather, not know what to do. So many of the places I go to don't really lend themselves to tourist photos. I specialize in proof-that-I've-been-there photos. Like crime scenes.

So after many years of not taking photos of marketplaces (how do you capture the smells?) and villages (how do you capture the dust?) I have made a concerted effort to take any photos. Digital cameras help too. I love being able to see if I got the right shot and retaking it several (several) times.

I can't post all the postcard pictures here so let me just focus on a few things:

1. Alaska is prehistoric. I don't mean there are dinosaurs roaming the streets. But looking at the HUGE snow-capped mountains and glaciers you definitely get a sense that this place was formed by continents splitting and crashing thousands of years ago.

2. Alaska is isolated. For much of the state, and some of the "bigger" towns there is no way in or out but by plane or boat. Or as one of our biking guides said "I s'pose you could hike".

3. Alaska is warm. 50-60 degree temps and all I needed were a couple of t-shirts and a light jacket. We had our cold days, but nothing worse than a summer in San Francisco (as Mark Twain would say). Oh, and the people are warm too.

We're Having a Heatwave...

This post brought to you by Soccer Mom in Denial - posting every Monday on a different musical memory.

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A tropical heatwave.

Is this your weather forecast?

Tomorrow: Hazy sun, very hot and humid with the temperature approaching the record of 102 set in 1874

DC Weather Report...

stifling

For more Singular Saturdays go visit Jenn in Holland.

and I'm on Looking Into again! It's Flower Week!

Dateline Klondike

It's that time of the week - injecting a little geographic exploration into an otherwise sedentary life.

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Okay - just back from Alaska. Lots of travel tales in there but for right now I'm tired and have to go to bed.

Here's something to occupy you until I get the chance to post.

When It's Warm, You Can Get Baked in ...

Alaska

For more Singular Saturdays go visit Jenn in Holland.

Traveling Companion

It's that time of the week - injecting a little geographic exploration into an otherwise sedentary life.

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In my myriad of travels over the years I've had the pleasure and displeasure of traveling with others. There is something about traveling with another person which can make you hate them or love them - let's hope it's the latter. Traveling alone can also have its plusses and minuses too.

I've traveled a bit on my own at various times - either for plesaure or work - and have found it to be both freeing and confining. After a stint on a kibbutz one summer I took off and backpacked around Israel by myself. No pesky companion to keep me from rising early to hike up Masada and see the sunrise. Alas, no companion either to accompany me out at night to walk around Jerusalem's Old City or to accompany me around the wall of the city. Both situations place a single person at risk of mugging or worse. I also ran into a similar problem while traveling for work in Morocco - a single woman out alone at night is thought to be a prostitute. Not sure what I would have been subjected to had I tested this theory.

On the flip side, traveling alone often afforded me the opportunity to meet new people, as I was not bound to any particular companion. In Benin for work, I spent most evenings at the hotel tiki bar by the pool chatting with the bartenders (in French!). Joining me were several other work travelers - an American selling a plane to the head of state and an Australian commodities trader loading a ship with cottonseed. I learned a lot about international commerce! In Savannah, I sat at the communal tables at Mrs. Wilkes' Boarding House and met conventioneers and couples touring the town.

My travels with my sister are legendary and in some ways I found a new friend - we got to know each other in ways that staying at home don't reveal. How fast are you willing to run for a train? Would you eat something you couldn't pronounce or recognize? In how many languages can you say "ooh, that jacket is so cute, I wonder what it costs?". Two friends of mine and I backpacked around Europe on a tiny amount of money but we survived with each other's help. When one friend accidentally put contact lens cleaning solution in her eye, we other two navigated the Greek bus and medical system - in German! To this day, I don't doubt any one of us would travel miles to help the others.

Nowadays I'm traveling with my husband and it's been a learning experience. We complement each other well - something we had to learn over time. He's a planner and I'm more laid-back. There was some friction at first but then we realized how well we work together - one made the reservations, the other agreed not to criticize the choices. Hasn't steered me wrong yet.

Rhymes with Hoover...

Vancouver

For more Singular Saturdays go visit Jenn in Holland.

Cruisin'

It's that time of the week - injecting a little geographic exploration into an otherwise sedentary life.

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Yours truly is going to be out of town for a little while - about 10 days - for an Alaska cruise. No doubt future posts will be filled with stories about icebergs and polar bears or whatever else is there. Black bears? Moose? Maybe I need to do some research before I go.

Leading up to this trip, people have been asking me "are you EXCITED?" - maybe less of a question and more of a statement. Well yes and no. I'm sure the natural beauty of Alaska is something else - or so I'm told. And I do like nature. Love Switzerland's Alps and Glacier National Park's winding roads and Ireland's cliffs.

But what is fascinating obsessing me more these days is the cruise itself. I've never been on a cruise ship before - unless you count the overnight ferry from Italy to Greece where I slept on the floor with my backpacking buddies. I've been on river "cruises" - a three-hour tour. A three-hour tour. But never a floating hotel.

I'm not really a cruise person. That I know of. While people I know have been on many cruises - mostly Caribbean and warm weather - it's not necessarily a vacation I would choose for myself. I'm used to hauling my bag from hotel to hotel. Struggling to lift it onto a train (sometimes as it pulls out of the station). Packing and unpacking at each destination. Relearning my surroundings every few days. Finding decent restaurants. Walking miles between monuments.

Hmmm....might be a nice change of pace.

Schoolhouse Rock

This post brought to you by Soccer Mom in Denial - posting every Monday on a different musical memory.

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I was reading a Washington Post series on childhood obesity in America. The series is going on all week and is looking at a number of aspects that encourage obesity in children - cuts in federal funding for physical education, lack of grocery stores in poor neighborhoods, etc.

How children (and parents) learn about basic science, math, and civics concepts reminded me of Schoolhouse Rock. I don't know if it's on anymore but every family should have a copy of the entire series. Everything from planets to adverbs is covered (I know you're all singing "Lolly, lolly, lolly" right now)

Oftentimes in my job I find myself discussing a piece of legislation because it affects what we do. People are impressed with my thorough knowledge of the legislative process. They think I have inside information because of my husband. Really, I'm just singing the tune, "I'm just a bill sitting here on Capitol Hill". And don't I look smart!

Too Much Rain, My Plants Are

drowning

For more Singular Saturdays go visit Jenn in Holland.

If Women Ran the World

I came across this interesting piece in the Washington Post about economic revival after the Rwandan genocide.

There are at least 3 take home messages here:
1) women are highly reliable at paying back loans
2) women devote a great portion of their income towards their families
3) women are innovative in developing and furthering businesses

Just goes to show you...women are awesome

You Gotta See This!

If you regularly read this blog you'll note that I stay away from political commentary, despite deeply held views (which I won't reveal here or here or here).

But my husband came home with this one today and I just couldn't resist.

Frickin hilarious!

Things That Are Younger Than John McCain

call me ageist.

at least you can't call me a racist.

Jenn in France

It's that time of the week - injecting a little geographic exploration into an otherwise sedentary life.

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My sister Jenn made it to France! She just moved from Indonesia - quite the series of flights. With a cat, no less. She'll be staying with Mom and stepdad for awhile until she figures out her next move - in France somewhere doing something.

I have fond memories of hanging out in France and Europe with Jenn. Way back when, oh about 15 years ago, we went on a trip there - just before I went to grad school.

On our flight over there we were crammed into our seats waiting for dinner. The steward comes by and says "chicken or beef". Jenn's reply "the chicken, how is that prepared?". His response "it's airline food, it's microwaved". Gotta love her gift for conversation.

During the flight over I come to find out that shen had not really ever traveled alone in Europe, without our parents. By this time I had backpacked around Europe with little money and had done quite well (I survived!). I would show her how to read the Eurail schedule and she would duly chase after departing trains - demonstrated by the time when such a thing occurred as we ran around the Bern bahnhof and leapt onto a moving train. Like something out of a movie. Only nothing romantic about it.

We learned that we could both communicate in French. Both. As in together. She would ask the questions and I would listen for the answers. This worked quite well, except one short bus trip where the driver didn't cooperate with our little 2-person act. So we ended up seeing the town twice. No big loss, it was very pretty.

Her gift for languages was also evident on a trip to Italy. Her love of food, sense of style, and appreciation of art were in abundance. As well as her ability to mix up words. While she had nailed down "please!" she couldn't quite recall the difference between "door" and "check". My follow up was "we'd like the check first please. And then we'll go out your door."

And since our first travels together she has been to more places, and lived in more countries than I ever will. I like to think I was her teacher. And now I'm her student.

Dance Moves

This post brought to you by Soccer Mom in Denial - posting every Monday on a different musical memory.

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My calves hurt.

Friday night some friends came over and, after much wine, we put on 80's music. Both I and our friend (the husband in this couple) live in households where our music isn't always played so much. We suffer in silence...

But not Friday night. Somehow we won out and the tunes started playing. And then we started dancing. Mostly bouncing. Because if you remember the following songs, you remember that the main dance move is just bouncing up and down. Mostly with your arms at your side and your head bopping back and forth. Sometimes you gesture with your arms along with the music.

Bizarre Love Triangle - New Order
I Melt With You - Modern English
Our House - Madness
Mirror in the Bathroom - English Beat
Friday I'm in Love - The Cure

Lots of bouncing up and down. Just like the high school dance.

Lots of Wine and 80's Music, My Head is...

bopping

For more Singular Saturdays go visit Jenn in Holland.

Fear of Flying

It's that time of the week - injecting a little geographic exploration into an otherwise sedentary life.

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This week's post isn't about places I've been - it's about the journey. As they say, sometimes that's the more important part of the experience.

Not when you're afraid to fly.

As a child I can remember loving air travel. Airports were amazing - those boards that went clickety clack with different destinations could keep me captivated for hours. days. Trips to Kennedy airport to pick up visitors were magical.

Once on the plane I easily passed out. More often than not, I would miss dinner and breakfast on our trips to Europe. Mom always made sure that the chocolate from my breakfast tray was saved (loved KLM!). On the flight to England for my semester abroad in college I fell asleep before takeoff and woke after landing. All night long, boisterous college students laughed and talked around me. Who knew?

I remember when it all changed. Shortly after the crash of Swissair Flight 111 I started to get panicked on flights. It was mild fear at first and continued as such for several years. Sometime in the last 4 years it escalated.

I now understood what a full on panic attack felt like. It wasn't nausea that gripped me, it was sheer terror. Any little bump or noise would increase my already rapid heartbeat. My face burned, my palms and the bottom of my feet were sweaty. I didn't want to get off the plane, I just wanted it to land. Now.

As you can imagine, this hasn't made my travel-heavy life any easier. On our honeymoon in Tanzania we took small planes everywhere - very small. Somehow I felt okay. I felt closer to the ground and that was comforting.

Other flights have not gone as well. I've tried different psychological techniques and medication - both work at times. Sheer exhaustion seems to work the best. I can fall asleep. I don't need to know what's going on. I just don't need to know.

Alas, this fear doesn't exactly work with my career - but then the career chose me long before I feared flying. I won't stay home for something like this. I want to see the world.

And so it goes... just keep breathing.

Just Can't Get Enough

This post brought to you by Soccer Mom in Denial - posting every Monday on a different musical memory.

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We just got a new Harris Teeter in our neighborhood. For where we live this is a very BIG deal. Our choices up until now have been some pretty lousy Safeways - all the no-carb cake you can eat. And a Whole Foods - for when I want to empty the bank account. I don't totally hate these other stores - it's just that when you live in a good neighborhood in a major city, having healthy food choices that don't bankrupt you is nice. Don't get me started on how ill served poorer areas of the city are.

On Saturday, I was in HT in the produce section amazed at my choices. And then I heard it, like a voice from Heaven...

Depeche Mode. Seriously. On their music system.

I don't need to shop anywhere else.

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And check me out on Looking Into. Photos from sunny Miami.

Flowers

Lately, with spring upon us, I've been thinking a lot more about flowers. Here is one creation of my own - a pear Frangipane tart. Gorgeous and not as hard to make as you think. We're bringing it to a friend's house for lunch.



And here's another one - a creation of God's or Mother Nature's or a pretty talented horticulturalist's. Stunning.

Couldn't Sleep, Our Senile Cat was...

screaming

For more Singular Saturdays go visit Jenn in Holland.

Play Ball!

DC has a new baseball stadium - to go with the baseball team we acquired a few years back from Montreal. The Nationals - thank goodness so many other names didn't stick, although the cheer "Go Nats!" is a bit pornographic - are at the bottom of their division but that's okay. We're just happy to have a local team. Hauling our butts up to Baltimore to see the Orioles was getting a bit tedious.

In the same way other cities have built new stadiums (note aforementioned Orioles and others) DC built a new home for its team. Luckily, the same city that had the brains to elect and re-elect Marion Barry several times, and that doesn't exactly have any money ($50 million and counting stolen by the tax office), didn't pony up for this park. Business taxes will pay for it.

For a few years, the team played at the old RFK stadium which was really built for football. It has the unfortunate quality of capturing sunlight and heat. Good for winter sports, not good for summer in a swamp.

We were fortunate enough to visit the new stadium last week with friends who have season tickets. And, oh, they are sweeeet. They decided to opt for a sort of club level. We had access to a lounge and seats with padding. Yes, padding. So comfy. And warm on a cold night.

Being DC, the team and stadium really play off the theme of the Nation's Capital. The food stands all have names like Pentagon Pizza and there's even a Ben's Chili Bowl stand. During the 4th inning stretch there's the traditional race of the Presidents. Teddy Roosevelt, George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, and Abraham Lincoln race around the field. For some reason Teddy always loses. I have no idea why.

The Nats beat the Braves in a very exciting game. Still bottom of the division, but who cares. We had only a short metro ride home. Heaven.

Wanderlust

It's that time of the week - injecting a little geographic exploration into an otherwise sedentary life.

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I was talking with a niece (for lack of a better familial term) recently about her upcoming summer plans. She is completing her second year of college and is planning on going to Ireland for the summer - a few weeks of "learning" and travel through her university. Next spring she hopes to spend a semester in London. I must have overwhelmed her with my excitement - so thrilled for her to go on this adventure! Oh, how I miss those days.

Sort of.

I told her stories of my summer in Nigeria (did I mention the malaria?) - and how I bummed around London for a week on my way home. Little money, little food but I was so excited to be doing it "on my own".

I told her stories of the subsequent spring semester in England where I also backpacked around Europe - again, little money, little food. But somehow I made it work. At one point I had nothing but a Eurail pass, 25 cents and a box of cookies. Luckily, I was on the last leg of my trip - eager to meet my parents in Germany. Oh the joy I felt when I finally hauled myself through the door after 20 hours of train travel - and there on the table was FOOD! Vegetables! Meat! WINE! And yet, that endless train ride is not at all a painful memory.

At the end of the semester I wasn't willing to come home - crossing the Atlantic seemed like such a final act. I would have completed my time overseas, headed back to a boring job at home. I was not ready.

I found myself a summer gig volunteering on a kibbutz in Israel - hard work but 3 square meals! Picking pears, working on a potato combine, backpacking around the country - again, little money, little food (off the kibbutz). Absolutely one of the most rewarding jobs I ever had.

And as I sat there and told these tales to our niece with all the excitement and joy and I could ever feel - I kept thinking, "could I do that again?".

No. My older self loves my comfy bed, warm shower, and FOOD.

But I can't wait to see her pictures!

Purple Rain

This post brought to you by Soccer Mom in Denial - posting every Monday on a different musical memory.

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We've finally turned a corner with the weather this weekend in DC. Flower Child can go back to doing the thing that gave her her name. I spent the weekend digging through dirt and gardening to my heart's delight.

It was Thursday this past week the clematis bloomed - and it is gorgeous! Beautiful purple flowers - just stunning. And the best part is, I don't have to do anything - it comes back year after year with minimal help from me.

Where's the music in all of this? Well, Purple Rain of course. A great movie from my high school days (one friend saw it at least a dozen times) and an even better album. I do love Prince/the artist formerly known as Prince/Prince.

After a Fun Night Capping Off a Crappy Week, I Am

beat

For more Singular Saturdays go visit Jenn in Holland.

La Vie en Rose

This post brought to you by Soccer Mom in Denial - posting every Monday on a different musical memory.

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Sunday was one of those days - when you feel fully transported to another place. I went to the farmers' market on a gray rainy day and picked up some fresh mache (salad) and tomatoes. I went home, put together a tomato tart and made homemade French onion soup (complete with toasted baguette slices topped with Gruyere!).

My husband picked up a bottle of Beaujolais Villages and we sat down to a lovely French lunch. With the pouring rain outside it reminded me of La Vie en Rose - the movie about Edith Piaf. Well, everything except the tragic part.

Growing up my dad would play Edith Piaf records endlessly. She had this strange, yet captivating voice. Made all the more interesting and heartfelt due to her excessive drinking and drug use. And difficult childhood.

Back to my transporting afternoon - a simple French meal, a lovely bottle of red wine, a wonderful husband. La Vie en Rose.

Quand il me prend dans ses bras
Il me parle tout bas,
Je vois la vie en rose.

Fresh Produce at the Farmer's

market

For more Singular Saturdays go visit Jenn in Holland.

Bordeaux

It's that time of the week - injecting a little geographic exploration into an otherwise sedentary life.

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There comes a time in everyone's life when they get that phone call from their parents. "We're retiring to..." Boca Raton? Warm weather. Early Bird Specials. There's something to be said for that.

My mother and stepfather who lived in England for several years (he's British) called me several years back to announce their plans.

"Bordeaux".
"As in France?".
"Yes, they have nice wine there. And good weather. And good health care."

Fine by me!

They have spent the past few years in their new home mostly renovating it. It's a nice old farmhouse that really reminded you of, well, a farmhouse. Rustic sink. Barn. That sort of stuff. It is now a lovely house with a gourmet kitchen and an upstairs suite for visitors.

Instead of the trek to the $5.95 buffet that I would be making if they lived in Florida, I'm trekking down the hill to the wine co-op to fill our 10 liter jug with the village red. Life is good!

The first time I met my husband he overheard me at a party talking about how my mother was moving to Bordeaux. He interrupted the conversation, injecting "what?! why aren't you there now?!".

A couple of years later when I brought him to meet my parents I thought he would dump me afterwards - he got his trip to Bordeaux, what did he need me for after that? Instead, he proposed. Guess he wasn't sufficiently scared off by my mother. Maybe he was too drunk to notice. Maybe he figured he could someday inherit a farmhouse in France and retire there.




Where will you be retiring to?

With All of My Tart

This post brought to you by Soccer Mom in Denial - posting every Monday on a different musical memory.

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I spent the weekend baking. HEAVEN.

I love nothing more than baking. Pie crusts excite me. Lemon curd makes my heart soar.

I don't know if there is a song about how much one can love baking. But I did find a Monty Python (LOVE them too!) song about rhubarb tarts. So, sing along, and check out my goodies.

I want another slice of rhubarb tart.
I want another lovely slice.
I'm not disparaging the blueberry pie
But rhubarb tart is oh so very nice.
A rhubarb what? A rhubarb tart!
A whatbarb tart? A rhubarb tart!
I want another slice of rhubarb tart!

Blueberry Muffins and Pain Aux Raisins

The principles of modern philosophy
Were postulated by Descartes.
Discarding everything he wasn't certain of
He said 'I think therefore I am a rhubarb tart.'
A rhubarb what? A rhubarb tart!
A Rene who? Rene Descartes!
Poor nut he thought he was a rhubarb tart!

Lemon Curd Tart with Swiss Meringue & Fruit Tart with Pastry Cream

Read all the existentialist philosophers,
Like Schopenhauer and Jean-Paul Sartre.
Even Martin Heidegger agrees on one thing:
Eternal happiness is rhubarb tart.
A rhubarb what? A rhubarb tart!
A Jean-Paul who? A Jean-Paul Sartre!
Eternal happiness is rhubarb tart.

Parisienne style Brioche

A rhubarb tart has fascinated all the poets.
Especially the immortal bard.
He caused Richard the Third to call on Bosworth Field:
'My kingdom for a slice of rhubarb tart!'
A rhubarb what? A rhubarb bard!
Immortal what? Immortal tart!
As rhymes go that is really pretty bard!

Vanilla Sponge Cake with Lemon Curd and Italian Meringue Buttercream Frosting

This Weekend I'm Rolling...

pastry

For more Singular Saturdays go visit Jenn in Holland.

South Beach Miami

It's that time of the week - injecting a little geographic exploration into an otherwise sedentary life.

On a lighter note than previous Wayfaring posts, I thought I'd blog about Miami this week.

For the big birthday weekend my husband wanted to take me somewhere - Paris? No, too cold, too far. What I wanted more than anything else was warm sand in my toes. Seriously, that was the exact criteria. Oh, and minimal travel time, no connections, and minimal time zone changes. Miami it was.

South Beach is a mixture of cultures - Cuban, art deco, funky - if you count those as separate cultures. Let me tell you a little about each of these.

Cuban - Miami has a large Cuban population and it was in full evidence this past weekend. As we were walking to Puerto Sagua for Cuban sandwiches (I love any sandwich with pickles) we kind of ran into Jon Secada, the Latin pop star. And his friends, one of whom invented the Macarena. They were filming something for someone (TV?) and somehow we we were asked if we wanted to meet Jon...and dance the Macarena. Here we are. I think I did pretty well.

Art Deco - At some point, someone had the good sense to preserve all the beautiful art deco buildings in the neighborhood. It's a wonderful place to walk around once you've spent enough time on the beach.

Funky - South Beach day and nightlife is a a motley collection of eccentricities. Our hotel had theme rooms - now I know you're thinking jungle or bordello - and you might be right. They also had rooms, such as ours, that was decorated based on a 50's car theme. The bathroom fixtures, the ceiling fan, everything. You can fight to get into a chi-chi club, watch scantily clad women parading down Ocean Drive, or get a temporary tattoo at midnight after too many mojitos.

Notice it's a flower - for Flower Child

It Was 40 Years Ago Today

This post brought to you by Soccer Mom in Denial - posting every Monday on a different musical memory.

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You say it's your birthday
It's my birthday too--yeah
They say it's your birthday
We're gonna have a good time
I'm glad it's your birthday
Happy birthday to you.

When I get older losing my hair,
Many years from now.
Will you still be sending me a Valentine
Birthday greetings bottle of wine.

What would you think if I sang out of tune,
Would you stand up and walk out on me.
Lend me your ears and I'll sing you a song,
And I'll try not to sing out of key.

You say you want a revolution
Well, you know
We all want to change the world.
You tell me that it's evolution,
Well, you know
We all want to change the world.
But when you talk about destruction,
Don't you know that you can count me out.

There are places I remember
All my life though some have changed
Some forever not for better
Some have gone and some remain
All these places have their moments
With lovers and friends I still can recall
Some are dead and some are living
In my life I've loved them all

I'm in Miami, My Toes Are...

warm

For more Singular Saturdays go visit Jenn in Holland.

Burning My Brain

It's that time of the week - injecting a little geographic exploration into an otherwise sedentary life.

I was tossing around a bunch of ideas for this week's Wayfaring Wednesday and then I realized I was tossing them all around in my brain. Which 20 years ago, was on fire.

During college I became very interested in African studies - this was very exciting for me as I had spent a few years not really sure of what I wanted to do. I had a major but I didn't have a clear passion for the subject. After taking an African history course in which I hated the teaching assistant, but loved the class, I knew this was for me.

The summer between my junior and senior years of college I decided to go on a trip to Africa - keep in mind, this was the late 1980's - not everyone was doing it. The one program I found was 6 weeks in Nigeria studying at the University of Ibadan with other American students.

It was a great trip in many ways - I dove into the unknown, went to a country I'd barely heard of, with people I'd never met.

Upon my return to the U.S. I started to come down with weird symptoms. Blurred vision at first and then the fever hit - easily reaching 104 degrees. Ibuprofen would break it and soon it was back up again. My parents took me to my infectious disease specialist in NY City (doesn't everyone have one of those?) - and to make a long story short, I ended up hospitalized for a week with malaria. Later I would discover, cerebral malaria. Not good.

Fortunately for me, my mom is a critical care nurse and was able to take me home after the first week - I spent the second week housebound with round the clock supervision. The fevers had stopped but now I was experiencing severe shaking - my muscles were so out of whack that my arms and legs shook uncontrollably. Try eating like that! Getting fork to mouth was impossible.

After the end of two weeks, I was much improved. And at the end of it all, after the scorching fever, the vomiting, the uncontrollable shaking - the near-death experience, I wanted to go back to Africa.

So that's how I figured out my future career - took a bit of burning my brain to do it.

Did you ever go to a place which confirmed something for you?

These Hips Don't Lie

This post brought to you by Soccer Mom in Denial - posting every Monday on a different musical memory.

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About 6 months ago I took up running - decided that I really needed to get in shape and I clearly wasn't motivated to go to an aerobics class. At least I haven't been since the 1980's when Jane Fonda was all the rage.

My goal was to run a 5k before I turned 40. Literally starting from the couch I got better and better and had managed to run a 5k on the treadmill - with hills! However, winter set in and there weren't exactly any races going on. I kept it up a bit but it was still only me against the treadmill.

Spring came to Washington and I finally got my chance. Hadn't run in a month but I figured I could do it - with my 40th fast-approaching, I HAD to do it this weekend.

It was beautiful this morning down at the Tidal Basin - cherry blossoms all in bloom. And quite chilly. So for the first time ever, I ran in 3 layers of shirts and a hat. Cute thing with a tassel.

It was brutal. Did okay for the first couple of miles and then thought I was going to pass out. I started to walk for a little - about 1/4 mile. And then I hit the 3 mile marker and said f*%k it, I'm going to run across that line if it kills me. I cranked up the iPod and SPRINTED the last 1/4 mile. Finishing in less time than I ever had.

Thanks, Shakira.

My Husband and Friends Threw a Party for Me Last Night

SURPRISED

For more Singular Saturdays go visit Jenn in Holland.

Guantanamo Bay

It's that time of the week - injecting a little geographic exploration into an otherwise sedentary life.

In the past five years, the phrase "Guantanamo Bay" has taken on new connotations. I grew up knowing its nickname Gitmo, more recently it has been dubbed Camp X-Ray (one of three detention camps contained in the naval base).

To me it is terra firma - the place of my birth. During the Vietnam War, Dad was given the choice of a tour in Southeast Asia or a stint (with his family) at the naval hospital at Gitmo. Obviously he chose the latter. The better choice, anyone would agree. I am a US citizen by birth, eligible to run for President - as much as John McCain is.

My passport merely reads "Cuba" - no specific location that might explain the circumstances of my birth. Upon returning to the US from travels abroad I am occasionally asked how I obtained my citizenship, or for how long I've held it. Try answering that question intelligibly with jet lag.

The stories from those years were both humorous and scary. A sort of gallows humor I suppose. 98 degrees on Christmas Day, cockroaches nearly as big as your hand. Bored drunken soldiers driving over land crabs in a game called "crunch crunch".

These days the name doesn't conjure up quite the same feelings. While my curiosity about the place has not waned, it has taken on a new dimension. I no longer wear the cool t-shirt emblazoned with "Guantanamo" and a red star that my friend made for my birthday years ago.

I always got strange looks when I told people where I was born. The strange looks are now followed by a solemn, "oh".

Did you know they have a Starbucks? Seems prying detainees with a venti latte is an effective means of interrogation.

Easter Special

This post brought to you by Soccer Mom in Denial - posting every Monday on a different musical memory.

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For the better part of 40 years my family and I have attended the same church in the West Village in New York. Even through the years where we lived in Connecticut and had to drive an hour each way to attend, this was the place we always came back to. My brother and sister attended nursery school here, we protested the exclusion of gays in the clergy, we mourned members killed on September 11th .

Our sermons were full of anti-nuclear, care for the poor, anti-Reagan, pro-peace messages. It never occured to me that these were not the sermons everyone else heard on Sunday.

Being in Greenwich Village in the 1980's ours was also a place that saw AIDS early on. The first person interred in the columbarium was Louis who died from AIDS - one of the last times I saw him in the choir he was wearing a rainbow-colored wig to cover his bald head. Despite the death around us, this was a place full of life.

This Easter Sunday, we came back. Nearly all of us. My sister, little brother, Mom and Dad (who are divorced) - we were missing my older brother who lives just a little too far away. It was great. It was home.

And as on every Easter Sunday, the organist ended the service with the Toccata from Symphony 5 by Widor. Enjoy.

People Have Flown in from All Over the World for Me

Loved

For more Singular Saturdays go visit Jenn in Holland.