Red Nose

All May Skate...Or Not

One of the many activities at this year's Weetacon was a trip to the local rolling skating rink, the Rola Rena.

I used to be able to roller skate. In fact, I even took lessons once upon a time, at the Congressional Roller Rink in Rockville, Maryland, which has been gone, gone, gone for many many years. Unfortunately, I was never very good at it.

Skip ahead about 15 years -- roller skating became quite the fad in the 70s. I was in college, and several of my pals took up the sport. They'd head for the parking garage next to the student union, head up to the top level, strap on their skates, and roll around and around all the way down to the lowest level. I was envious of this daredeviltry, but I was way too chicken to try it out.

One night we all went to a roller rink, where I did try to skate. I failed miserably, so miserably that a lot of the regular skaters used me as a push-off pole. I stumbled around a bit and then called it a night.

Fast forward to last weekend. We all got out of the Weetabus and headed into the rink for our private skating party. I conveniently forgot about my roller skating past, laced up my rented skates, and headed out to the floor. There I picked and lurched and inched my way around the rink, holding on to the wall for dear life.

There were lots of folks there who could skate. Some could skate really really really well, like the lovely and talented Shawn, who is in training with the Angel City Derby Girls, and my own personal savior, Sean B, who took pity on me, grabbed my hands, and skated me the rest of the way to the gate.

He was perfectly willing to continue to help me get my skating legs under me, and said, "Okay, first we go with two hands, then one, then you'll be able to go on your own."

I, however, know my limitations, even if I did ignore them at first. I got to the gate and thanked my benefactor profusely, releasing him to skate as he was meant to skate.

Then I slid down the ever-so-slight incline to the rest area and promptly fell directly on my ample ass.

Joe, though, did great! He made it around eight times!

 

 

You Are Here

Today's Photo-A-Day theme is "sign."

I thought about being creative on this one, but ultimately I just snapped a picture of this helpful piece of user documentation near the Silver Spring Metro stop.

The reason for this sign (and many others like it on the surrounding blocks) is that the county (or maybe the state? I don't know!) is building a brandy-new transit center that will consolidate buses, subway trains, Amtrak trains, MARC trains, bicycles, skateboards, and maybe even scooters!

I kid. But they are building a transit center. It's that gray irregular pentagon on the sign.

Anyway, the construction of this behemoth has caused the bus stops to go all cattywampus and WMATA has had to accommodate the buses on the surrounding streets. They've actually done a pretty good job, including signs like this one.

At least you always know where you are.

Hear That Lonesome Whistle Blow

The lovely and talented MissMeliss hosts a site called CafeWriting, which has monthly, themed writing prompts. This month's is right up my alley: Trains!

Option 5 in this month's prompt asks for seven things about trains, so all aboard!

1. My grandfather was a stationmaster for the B&O railroad. The station was at the end of the street, so all he had to do to get to work was walk a block. Because of his job, he and his family got to ride the train for free. My gramma took full advantage of this perk to take summer vacations to Illinois to see her relatives. My mother remembers riding for hours and hours, overnight, sitting up in the seats (a sleeper cost extra), and eating cold fried chicken. Gramma was not going to pay for meals in the dining car either!

2. I've taken a few long-distance train trips. My first was to Atlanta -- it was cheaper than flying, even with the least-expensive sleeper option. In 1992, we took a grand family vacation aboard the train. We flew to Seattle, then took the Empire Builder back to Chicago. We switched to the Cardinal in Chicago for the ride back to D.C. We chose the Cardinal over the Chicago Limited because it goes through the New River Gorge in West Virginia -- gorgeous!

3. That previous item reminds me of another thing I love about trains -- their names. The Empire Builder, The Sunset Limited, The Crescent... beautiful names that evoke the romance of travel. Airplanes are numbered; trains are named.

4. I also love eating in the dining car. On Amtrak, space in the dining car is at a premium, so you're seated with other folks in the four-person booths. I've eaten with lovely little old ladies, a gaggle of Aussie backpackers, and pleasant families. I even had a celebrity sighting in a dining car: Art Monk, Hall-of-Fame wide receiver for the Washington Redskins. I wished I could have been seated at his table, but I probably just would have gawped at him all through dinner.

5. Train whistles are the lonesome-est sounds you could ever hear. I love them. I grew up in the house next door to my gramma and grandfather, so I heard train whistles my whole life. They always make me want to go... somewhere, anywhere; just climb aboard the train and follow the rails.

6. Alas! I never got a chance to live in a circus train, but I did visit some of my circus pals on the Ringling train. One night I was spending some time with a good friend when the train started rolling! I had to grab my stuff and literally jump out. Luckily, it was moving pretty slowly.

7. Whenever I ride the train, whether it's a quick hop to Philly or a journey across the nation, I just sit and watch the world roll by. I don't feel the need to do anything other than relax, letting the images of the country flash across my eyes. It's the best meditation I know.

 

Weekend In The Mountains

For SonnyeBoy's big three-oh birthday weekend, we headed west to visit with Joe's sister's family. SonnyeBoy came up on Friday evening, and we jumped in the car early Saturday and lit out for the mountains.

Sunshine and Chum live in the woods, on 100 acres near Cumberland, Maryland. It's my second favorite place in the world, right behind Ocean City. Once we got there, the rest of the crew was not far behind: Joe's brother and his wife, his niece and her daughter, a local friend. After the initial round of hugs and visiting, we piled into two cars and headed for the Springs Folk Festival.

Oh my! Talk about your Amish paradise! There were crafts, there was food, there were half-nekkid men in loincloths selling tomahawks.

I browsed all the crafty booths. The handmade wood furniture was gorgeous, the silk chenille scarves were soft as a baby's breath, the jewelry sparkled and the leather purses were beautiful. I managed to restrain myself however. It was kind of a blessing in disguise that most of the booths did not have electricity; therefore, it was cash and carry. And I was not carrying that much cash.

Oh, did I mention the food?

You already know that I have a dirty mind.

Heh heh heh heh. But yum!

After we got back from Springs, it was time for the feast! Lasagna, salad, bread, all sorts of sides, and birthday cake!

We sat up late swapping stories and telling lies and having fun. Folks eventually drifted out to their own homes, and we bedded down for a good night's sleep.

But not before I tuned in ESPN to see that my Caps won their home opener!

 

So... Yeah, Hi!

Okay, okay! I'm going to the reunion. Joe's going too, God bless him! Thanks for the encouragement -- it should be a hoot. I hope I'll recognize some folks! Maybe I'll drag out my old eighth grade class graduation photo and bone up on the names and faces. Do you think they've changed much in 45 years? I know I have. Well, except for my porcelain complexion and radiant smile.

Last weekend we ran down to Ocean City for the weekend and hosted some very dear old friends. We had a great time, just sittin' and yakkin' and eatin' and drinkin'. The water was wonderful and I spent a lovely afternoon floating over the waves. Saturday evening the lovely and talented Deb and Beth stopped by for a beverage and a nosh, so the joint was a veritable beehive of activity! SonnyeBoy spent a lot of time with us too, so I got to love him up good.

Today I finally threw in the towel and called the doctor about my aching neck. The left side of it has been stiff and sore for over a month. I can't tell if it's a sore muscle, a pinched nerve, or something way more horrible like mocus in the crud. ("Mocus in the crud" is a fictional disease my pop was fond of diagnosing.) I am finally sick of having (not being) a pain in the neck! The doc prescribed Naprosyn, Flexiril, and hot compresses. Alas, I'll have to wait to pick up the meds, but I'll start the compresses tonight.

In fact, I think it's time for supper, accompanied by a Dark and Stormy with a hot compress chaser.

 

Along the Trail of the Lonesome Wine

This morning I googled "Maryland Wineries" and found a lovely site that describes several wine trails throughout my lovely state. Given that it was a beautiful day -- probably the last before the next wave of high heat and stifling humidity -- we took off to explore the Frederick Wine Trail. (Want pictures? Here's the Flickr set!)

Our first stop was Black Ankle Vineyards, a lovely place in the middle of the woods. We took the long way to the tasting room -- the road was easy enough to find, but when it went from a regular road down to a one-lane gravel track we started to get a little anxious. Happily, the road turned back in a paved byway and then, just up over a hill, there was the vineyard!

It's quite a beautiful setting. The tasting room is lovely -- it was built in 2007-2008, a hay bale structure made from hay grown on the land. The tables inside were made from curly maple trees harvested from the land; even the plaster was made from clay from the land!

But what of the wine? It was great, from a crisp, light Viognier to a rich, sweet dessert wine called Terra Dulce. After the tasting (six wines), we settled at a table and had a glass of wine (Terra Dulce for me; Crumbling Rock -- a very tasty red -- for Joe), some cheese and bread, and a couple of chocolate cake pops. I also splurged on a bottle of the Terra Dulce -- what can I say, I'm a sucker for sweet wines.

I could've stayed at Black Ankle all afternoon, but other wineries were beckoning! Off we went to Elk Run winery. This vineyard was founded in 1983. We were met by the owner, who offered us another six wines to taste! Again, they ranged from dry whites to full reds to sweet dessert wines, and once again my favorite was their ice wine, Vin de Jus, made from a reisling grape. They were getting ready to have live music on the patio overlooking the vines, but alas! We had more vineyards to visit and more wines to taste, so we pocketed our tasting sheet and headed off down the road...

...to Loew Vineyards, founded in 1982. Once again, we got to try six lovely wines. This tasting room did not have anyplace to sit or relax, but that was fine. We had a fun conversation with another couple and with the co-founder, Lois. And, predictably, my favorite of the six wines was a sweet mead made with honey and grapes.

After Loew, we drove onward to Linganore Winecellars, but got stopped on the road because of an accident. Rather than wait, we decided to check out Linganore another time and started home.

But we had one more stop: Jimmie Cone! Yep, some soft ice cream with chocolate sprinkles was the perfect end to our long and "wining" road.

The Week That Was

Home again; yes, I'm back from the beach.

We had a wonderful, lazy week. The weather was pretty damn fine. We did lots of beachy things -- here are ten of them.

1. We sat on the beach. The water was frigid, but the sun was warm and the breeze was cool and I fell sound asleep listening to the random rhythm of the waves on the sand.

2. We walked on the beach, in both Ocean City and Assateague National Seashore.

3. We walked on the boardwalk twice! Once in the early morning and once in the early evening. Unfortunately a lot of the things that make the boardwalk hilarious and fun were closed because it was a weeknight but it was not yet officially summer. But the Jesus Sand Sculptor was out and sculpting -- he's been there 30 years building biblical sand castles and collecting contributions in water jugs.

4. We ate crabs and corn and cole slaw and fries with SonnyeBoy and his ladyfriend. It was terrific!

5. Speaking of SonnyeBoy, we went to the movies with him and saw Bridesmaids. (He's a great sport, is SonnyeBoy.) And, I laughed a lot at the movie.

6. We had a family cookout and howled and cackled and joked and reminisced. My gourmet cook nephew grilled jerk chicken and concocted some killer Mojitos (that boy knows how to muddle!); I made an icebox cake.

7. We took a walk on the Life of the Dunes trail on Assateague National Seashore. We saw ponies!

8. We ate ice cream at Dumser's Dairyland three times -- once with my older sister and brother-in-law, once with SonnyeBoy and his ladyfriend, and once all by ourselves. The chocolate dip cones are just as good as ever.

9. We picked up our yearly portion (okay, one of our many yearly) bucket of Fisher's Caramel Corn.

10. We had lunch at Dogfish Head Brewing Company; it was really really good. Joe fell in love with their Raison D'Etre brown ale.

Mostly, though, we just did whatever we felt like. We had no agenda and no timetable. We woke up when we wanted to and took naps when the mood struck us. We sat on the porch and rocked in the hammock and drank refreshing beverages and loved up on SonnyeBoy.

And now, alas! Back to work.

My Heart's Place

Ever since I got home from the beach Sunday afternoon, I've been thinking about why I love it so much.

And I don't know -- or rather, I can't put it into words. The closest I can come is:

Ocean City is my heart's place.

I know that as soon as Joe started backing out of our parking space, I felt happier -- peaceful and excited at the same time. I tick off the milestones as we go -- the Severn River, the Bay Bridge, Kent Island, Easton, Cambridge, Salisbury, Route 90 -- knowing that every mile brings me closer to the beach, to My Place. Then we crest the first bridge over the St. Martin River and there's the skyline and oh, I'm home.

Call it a power spot, if you will, or a special haven, or a true home. Whatever you call it, the beach, this particular beach of all beaches, is my heart's place. I love the crowds in the summer, the raw wind in the winter; I love the high rises and honky tonk boardwalk. I've been going there since before I was born. I've been splashing in those waves and sitting on that sand since I was a baby. I've swum and fished and laid out in the sand and walked miles up and down the Boardwalk and sat on the porch doing nothing but looking at the sunset over the bay.

I'm always so content when I'm there. I always feel sad when I leave.

I think I just need to be by that water, by the waves, to feel the pull of the tide and to watch the sun rise over the ocean. I need to gaze over the gray-green-blue Atlantic and float over the swells, weightless, part of the deep, the place we all came from, and rest.

When I die, I want whatever is left of my creaky old body to be scattered in the sand, right at the edge of the ocean, so that I can be a part of it forever. And this entry is sappy and syrupy and silly, but you know what? I don't care. It's true.

 

Better

We spent the weekend at Joe's sister's house. It's such a beautiful drive out there, over the ridges through Frederick, Hagerstown, Hancock, Flintstone... into and out of Cumberland, down the driveway, through the woods and up the hill to the octagon house.

We didn't do anything in particular. We petted the critters and walked along the lane and listened to the wind in the trees. We drank coffee and ate cake and played games with the little kids and talked and talked and talked. We laughed a lot too.

It was just what we needed.

The weather this week has been pretty spectacular -- warm days, cool nights, low humidity, and (as the weather folks like to say) abundant sunshine. It's lovely! I feel like I can finally breathe again.

The Redskins beat Dallas! It wasn't the prettiest game in the world, but I don't care.

Even more, if football season has started, can hockey be far behind? I think not!

Tonight I got on the crowded subway train. A young woman was sitting on the aisle, the seat beside her empty, so I politely said, "Excuse me" to ask for the seat. She grimaced but slid over and I sat down, very happy to have a seat.

Then I noticed another woman, maybe a wee bit older than I, coming down the aisle. She was using a crutch; her foot encased in a big moon boot. I got up and offered her my seat and she gratefully took it. I resigned myself to stand, but then the young man in the next row asked if I would like to sit. He got up and I happily sat back down.

Nice!

So yeah. Everything balances out, I guess.

Exploring the Sant Ocean Hall

I mentioned in the last post that Joe took me on a private tour of the Sant Ocean Hall, where he's a volunteer docent. It's magnificent! I loved the living coral reef, with Nemo and Dory swimming  around the brilliant coral. Psychedelic!

I even loved the male giant squid, hanging head down in his case. His is a face -- if you can call it a face -- that only his mother could love. He's pretty big, almost 20 feet long all told.

He's not nearly as big as the female giant squid, though. She's laid out horizontally. From the tip of her head to the end of the longest tentacle, she's about 25 feet long now. The liquid that's preserving her caused her to shrink from her original length of 35 feet. You go!

My favorite, though, is the life size model of Phoenix, a right whale currently living in the North Atlantic ocean. The model is precise -- right down to the scars Phoenix has from dragging a fishing net that got caught in her baleen. She's 45 feet long and hangs from the ceiling of the hall. She's so big I had to take three pictures of her and stitch them together.

So next time you come to DC, get in touch. I can hook you up with a great guide who'll be happy to take you on a personal tour.

But he's coming home with me.