Budget Reconciliation Committee

The people with our fate in their hands...

Birthday DInner

One should always get what one wants for one's birthday.  I wanted Wild Atlantic Cod.

I used a recipe for garlicky chicken and modified it for the Cod fillet. 

I made a sauce from olive oil, minced garlic, capers, red pepper flakes and anchovy.  The process of simmering these ingredients dissolves the anchovy.  I coat the raw fillet in the sauce and added fresh lemon wedges, then baked for 25 minutes at 350, followed by 2 minutes with the broiler on.  Before broiling, I basted the fillet in the sauce. 

Results?  Delicious!

Ready to go in the oven.

Just out of the oven.

The table is set.

Romeo Es Infermo

Spent Monday with Romeo at the vets.  Poor boy has an UTI and some inflammation in his liver.  Of course, he charmed the staff and doctor. 

Test were done on his urine and blood.  Ergo the fetching green bandage.

He started out waiting for the test result standing and before long he was fast asleep on the floor.

When the results were in and the bills paid, Romeo was very excited to be going home!  

 Then he fell asleep again.

Ford's Theatre - Twelve Angry Men

It seems like I have a bona fide tradition here of attending a play at Ford's Theatre to celebrate my birthday.  In 2016, it was "The Glass Menagerie".  In 2017, it was "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf".  And in 2018, it was "Death of a Salesman".  Ford's seems to always produce classics of the American Theater at this time of year.

Today is was "Twelve Angry Men" by Reginald Rose.  An amazing piece of writing that holds up well, even for this Crime Scene Procedural aficionado, which is quite a propos given that "Twelve Angry Men" is often cited as the very play that gave birth to the entire genre.  Once again I must also confess that while I was aware of the play's existence and could even name half of the actors in the original 1957 film, I had seen neither.  Ergo, the entire thing was completely new to me.

Before getting into the meat of this production I want to hand out my first compliment.  The set design was stunning.  Tall squared columns made of concrete with ambiguous lattice covered windows and a large central table around which the actors sat (when they sat) that had the definite impression of the human heart.  The jury room was like a prison in which resides the human heart.  I may be the only one who got this interpretation, but I don't think I'm mistaken.  Tossed in some traditional elements like a one rich wood grained framed window and the door to match, both with frosted glass, and you a classic jury room transformed into the perfect metaphor.  The implication served well the magnificence of the performances.

I am pretty certain that the original included no black actors--I guess Sidney Poitier was otherwise engaged...  This production was made of a cast divided down the middle between black and white men.  The racial elements in the plot took on an incendiary power as a result, and the cast did not shy away from this.  I can only hope that the author would have been thrilled by this casting.  Seeing it performed this way, it's even hard to imagine that it was not written with this intention in mind.

To even take it to the next level, the role of the chief protagonist, Juror #8, was played by black actor, Erik King (Henry Fonda in the movie), and that of the chief antagonist, Juror #3, by white actor, Michael Russotto (Lee J. Cobb in the movie).  Additionally the first 5 jurors to fold were all black and the last 6 were white.  I don't know what side of political correctness all this falls on, but for drama, it was intensely powerful.  Add to that the fact that so many of the actors were chosen from the cream of the local crop, and honestly, it was as perfect a telling of this tale as I can imagine.

The aforementioned Erik King and Michael Russotto were spellbinding in their commitment to their characters.  Elan Zafir as Juror #10 who delivers the most biting and unapologetic racist diatribe midway through the second act was searing in his presentation.  But perhaps my favorite was Sean Maurice Lynch's embodiment of Juror #2, the idiosyncratic bank teller who's demure, at times pedantic, personality erupts after one too many put downs by his fellow jurors.  There was never a moment when I wasn't sitting on the edge of my seat, and I can tell you that I was the first person of a majority to rise to my feet in ovation when the final scene ended.

Friends

As just mentioned, my birthday looms.  On Friday a set of cards and more packages arrived.  I got through some of them, but not all. I realized that after three, my heart was all full up and there was no need to not save the rest for yesterday!

First up was the larger package.  What to my amazing delight was inside?  A set of beautiful bowls from my dearest and longtime friends who live a couple of states over.  Not only are they beautiful, but also perfect for my daily lunch salads. It's the kind of thoughtfulness only friends bring to the table.

And I know I shouldn't have favorites among siblings, but I do.  Fortunately, the Black and White Ruffed Lemurs concur.

Best salad ever!

Zuni Fetishes

As my friend Louie often says, "What Joy!"  Came home this past Tuesday to no mail...  I dunno, the kid in me still looks forward to getting mail every day.  Then when I left for work on Wednesday morning, I opened the door to discover mail!  It included a little box.  I scooped it up and took it to work.  When I had a moment I went through it.  The package was from my friend and poet Nikky.

Although we've never met in person, over the years we've taken to sending one another little notes of encouragement and tokens of friendship.  She is an amazing poet--a fierce voice.

I opened the little box and inside was such a lovely little note and two black velvet bags.  When I opened them, out tumble two Zuni Pueblo Native American bear fetishes!  Carved by the artist Delvin Leeyka. I was stunned by their beauty and the generosity of this gift.  I know she has no idea when my birthday is, but she came pretty darn close to nailing it.

When joy I wake each morning to see them standing watch over me from my nightstand.  Good omens of friendship, purveyors of light and insight, protectors from dark angels.

Democratic Candidates 2020 - January 2019 Enthusiasm Index

Word! Political Silliness, but...

January Super Wolf Blood Moon Total Eclipse

The title feels so fucking pretentious.  The even was far more pure and profound.

 10:53 PM

 11:10 PM

 11:30 PM

 11:46 OM

 12:02 AM

12:18 AM

My Aquarium

Every since I was a little kid, I've dabbled in aquariums.  My mother made a hobby of it.  She raised Mollies, Platies, and Swordtails that she sold back to local fish stores.  I remember sitting in front of the 10 gallon tanks and just staring for the longest time.  She even attempted to raise Betas, but to no success.

Around 2005, I dusted off my 15 gallon tall tank and started up again.  Later I added a new 55 gallon horizontal tank.  My philosophy is to not fuss.  I use a filtration system, but also rely on live vegetation.  I do not use a heater--that's just absurd.  And one the water is cured, I do not use any chemicals when replenishing the evaporated water.  So much of what you are expected to do has become part of the Freshwater Industrial Aquarium Complex! (That's a joke, BTW).  But, for me, the proof is the pudding.  My aquariums thrive.

Polar Bears Are Back!

True Story: 22 DEC 2018

Took Romeo to the National Arboretum today for a hike. On the way home on South Dakota Avenue, a silver Vereza with handicapped plates came whipping around us and cut off a red Camaro with vanity plates that read "nomercy". The driver of the Camaro had to slam on his breaks, but then did nothing in response to the rudeness of the other driver. 

And I thought, "liar."... 

True Story: 24 DEC 2018

Today, I ran out to a nearby grocery after realizing that I was out of celery--quelle horreur! Before leaving I donned my Dollar General Store Santa hat. It's a super cheap version of the classic red night cap with faux fur trim and bedazzled with gold glitter filigree snowflakes. The grocery in question is nearly walking distance from my home and as usual I was the only white person in the store. At one point I was spied by a little girl who exclaimed, "Santa!" I smiled, but her parents only glanced and then belined down the condiments aisle. No cross cultural endearing encounter this time! But there was a moment that really delighted and surprised me.

I've been shopping here for over two decades and being a bit of an odd man out, the employees pretty much recognize me. We often exchange superficial pleasantries. All the cashiers are black save the lone man and he's south central Asian (Indian or Pakistani, etc.) They are also ALL my age or older. Approaching the registers I noticed one of my favorite ladies was working. She's older than me. A wee sprite of a woman with a chirpy Creole caribbean accent and the disposition of a stern grandmother. She's efficient. In a cashier, that's endearing!

When my turn came she looked up at me for the first time and then burst into giggles! Not on my life did I expect this from her. After immediately looking down to stifle her laughter, she shot me another glance and lost it again. I, of course, said, "Ho ho ho! Merry Christmas." (I get this compulsion to poke the beast in moments like this from my father, who inherited it from his mother. My grandmother, Zola, would stop at nothing to push a good natured merry moment to its apex. I can remember her telling tales on herself that would end with her peeing her own britches from laughing so hard and laughing so hard in the telling that I wondered if I was about to be treated to an encore of the alleged finale! These are my people).

But I digress...

For the rest of our transaction we chatted pleasantly. She without making eye contact in an effort to keep her composure, and I, in hopes of lulling her into another glance!

True Story: 28 DEC 2018

I know the Virginia Zoo now pretty well. This was my fourth visit, and given the weather forecast with pending rain, I planned my visit to hit the major outside focus areas in the beginning. But first, after a couple of hours in the truck, it was "necessary room" time. After paying admission, I also realized that there would be very few fellow visitors on this day as there were virtually none to be seen across the grand plaza beyond the ticket booths. The restrooms are to the right of the entrance, and when I came out I encountered a group of 6 developmentally delayed adults with two caregivers. Other than thinking that I was no longer "alone" at the zoo, I didn't give them much consideration.

With my travel patch-festooned knapsack containing my camera, jacket and water secured over my shoulder, I rushed off to my first stop at the Asian collection called the "Trail of the Tiger". When you enter past the Thai pagoda and Tiger statue you have two choices: Orangutans or Siamangs. From here the path climbs along a faux rock palisade and leads you around to a boardwalk with views of one of the two species of Asian bears. Then you walk past a maze of displays and interior access to the Primates when they are not outside. Next you come upon the Red Panda. All the while I was taking my time and just really enjoying the animals. Some were out. Some weren't. By then I had encountered a couple of other young families with little children, but it was at the Red Panda habitat that the crew of differently abled adults caught up with me.

You know my powers of observation are legendary not to mention that I have been a social voyeur since early childhood. The arrival gave me a chance to size them up. Two women and four men with a man and woman as caregivers. One was propelled in a wheelchair while the rest were ambulatory. Most did not speak, the man in the wheelchair conversed quietly with the male caregiver. And then there was Melvin. The mere fact that know his name says something.

Melvin was black, kind of rolly polly, a little queenie and definitely a chatty-Cathy! He was a non-stop verbal smorgasbord of stream of consciousness monologue. To get his attention, the woman caregiver would good naturedly call out his name, which would momentarily stop his chatter and bring him to look in her direction. Of course, I was immediately taken with him. From his narrative, it was clear that he had been to the zoo before. He knew all sorts of information about the animals and not just about the species, but the individual animals.

For my part, I tried to just stand still and focus my attention on the Red Panda--my best attempt at being a fly on the wall while multi-tasking between admiring and photographing the Red Panda and eavesdropping on Melvin's rambling observations and anecdotes. From everything I could tell, my plan at being unobtrusive was working wonderfully.

Then as the group prepared to move on and Melvin was saying, "I wonder if the Binturong will be out? He's usually out, but sometimes he's not out. You know the other Binturong is at the farm, because they want to have some babies, but I don't think it's working. I wonder if they know why." and then to me, as he reached his closest proximity on his way down the path, he said, "By the way, I really like your bag." Before I could say, "Thanks." (which I did), he was on to the next topic. "Don't go to close to the Tapirs. They're spitters! I don't want no Tapir spitting on me...." Apparently, I was not the only one with a keen ability to multitask!

True Story: 11 JAN 2019

Out walking Romeo this evening and we'd gotten halfway down the hill toward the park, just a couple house lots away from our home, when I noticed a young woman talking to a neighbor 4 houses down on the other side of the street. They were chatting on her front stoop. The young woman leaned down and made some happy cooing sounds when Whigenstein appeared and yapped at her attention.

Whigenstein is a little dog, a mix, a mut, a rescue. He's about half Romeo's size (maybe 20 lbs) with wavy black fur like a collie and a white muzzle and belly, put on a frame closer to a corgi. He nearly immediately spied Romeo and ran with abandon (sans collar, sans leash) across his front yard to the street edge. He barked happily and then ran across the street to greet Romeo. With tails wagging, the two sniffed and said "hello".

It was about 5:20. It was dusk and darkening. I then saw a pair of headlights coming up from the bottom of the hill around the curve in the street. What happened next happened very quickly.

The car began to speed up. I stepped into the middle of the street and began to wave my arm in the air and shouted to the women at the house "There's a car!"

Then I really fucking SHOUTED at the car--"SLOW DOWN!!!"

The car didn't.

I stepped directly in front of the car (a small sliver sports car) and shouted again, "STOP!! THERE'S A DOG!!!"

The driver slammed on their brakes and about a car's length from where it stopped and maybe two car lengths from me, Master Whigenstein jogged back in front the car's headlights to his yard and up the incline to his porch.

The car had tinted windows. After the moment was over and I had taken a breath and stepped out of his way, the driver continued up the street. As he passed me, he rolled down his window a little bit, but he did not stop or say anything. We made eye contact. I presented a friendly countenance and stared directly at him as he passed. I did not recognize the car or the driver. I did not assume malice. I was ready to engage the person with a "thank you" and request to drive responsibly, but that opportunity did not happen.

The young woman on the stoop called out to me "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you so much." My neighbor waved.

I replied, "You're welcome," and then Romeo and I resumed our evening constitutional.

True Story: 12 JAN 2019

With snow starting in about two hours, we've a fire in the hearth and plenty of wood. Food to keep us sated through Tuesday in case the storm goes to the high end forecast. We took our walk early, too. The neighborhood was pretty quiet, the air calm and crisp, everything gray and sepia, the colors of winter.

As we approached the park, I heard a man's voice and looked over to see a dad some distance away with two young children standing on the threshold of the bridge over the creek. He looked like a young Mandy Patinkin (from Sunday in the Park with George), a neatly trimmed beard and twinkly eyes. The children, a girl and a boy were all dressed up in their winter finery.

The dad was saying, "We've just crossed through the magic portal."

"The what!?" exclaimed the little girl.

"The magic portal," said the dad. "We're no longer in Maryland. We're in Switzerland!"

"Swizzerland?" said the girl. Her little brother was poking at the ground with a stick.

"Switzerland. It's the place where people yodel."

"What's a yodel?" asked the girl. She turned to look at her brother.

Her dad turned away slightly, shielded his mouth with his flattened hand, and let peel a yodel. The little girl's head popped back. "Did you hear that?" asked the dad. "That was a yodel."

She thought for a second, then said, "That was you!"

He said, "Oh no. I don't know how to yodel. It came from other there." He pointed across the park.

As soon as she looked in that direction, he yodeled again.

By then, Romeo and I were about to pass them, and I said to him when he looked at us, "Guten tag."

Without skipping a beat, he replied, "Guten tag."

"Did you hear that man with the dog?" he asked his daughter. "He was speaking German. In Switzerland the people speak German."

"Ooohh," said the girl slowly her skepticism suddenly, momentarily assailed beyond her confidence in the game.

True Stories Preface

I share little vignettes from my life in other online forums.  I haven't shared many here because of the difficulty I have formatting them between platforms from my Chromebook.  It's silly impediment.  It would also be much easier to access them for future reference in this forum.  Not that they're any great shakes, but who knows?  I might manage to make something more polished some day.

I will post them with the date I wrote them.  There might be some back logging from time to time, and certainly here in the beginning.  I would love feedback, especially as concerned the actual writing.  Consider them all raw, all drafts for now.

Cheers and Thanks.

Sligo Creek Park