Where are the Muffin Stumps?

The other night, I was enjoying coffee with a friend at Panera when I noticed she was eating something that looked like cake -- only it was not cake. Was it bread? No. Was it a big spongy cookie? No. A muffin? Close -- it was a muffie! "What is a muffie?" you ask. Essentially, a muffie is a muffin top -- where the muffin spreads out minus the stump.

I immediately thought of "The Muffin Tops" Seinfeld episode, when Elaine sold muffin tops at the store "Top of the Muffin To You" where she'd bake the whole muffin, pop off the top and throw out the stump... or at least tried to until the homeless shelter, the sanitation department and even the dump would not take the stump. The homeless shelter lady yelled at Elaine, "Why don't you just drop off some chicken skins and lobster shells."

Panera and the Fair Hill shopping center are so pristine and new that I could not imagine bags of muffin stumps littering the premises. So where are the muffin stumps? On my next weekly shopping trip to Giant, in the frozen food aisle I spied Vitatops 100-Calorie Muffin Tops! Giant's frozen food aisle is near the fish counter -- maybe the muffin stumps are with the lobster shells.

Shake, Rattle, and Roll

How about that quake? I was making a call in my office when I heard and felt the rumbling. There's a huge old microwave in my office and I heard the glass plate inside it rattling. What could this be? I thought the boiler at my school was going to explode. It didn't help that before that I smelled something burning. That turned out to be the FACS (used to be Home Ec) teacher cleaning the ovens. I walked to a door frame. Isn't that something you should do? How should I know? I didn't grow up in Cali. Other teachers were in the hallway- Did you feel that? Was that an earthquake? Not even a minute later we got the call from our principal to gather our things and evacuate the building. We all walked out to the parking lot and many of us got on our cellphones. I reached the Wifey who assured me she and the offspring were OK. Ironically, people with Iphones and Blackberrys could not make a call. Really? I asked. My pay as you go Tracfone worked fine. A parent was getting out of her car and asked if we were having a fire drill. No, we evacuated because of the earthquake. She did not feel it on her way over. An administrative decision was made to dismiss the staff for the rest of the day. Great, I could get to the gym early. On my way over, something told me to call and check on a good friend of mine. He is retired and lives alone. I could not reach him on the phone and decided to swing by. Luckily, he was OK and just a little shook up like we all were. I'm glad he was alright.
Last year there was a minor quake that I mostly slept through. I vaguely remember a loud boom and thought it was a low flying jet. This was too real and I was wide awake for this one.
Glad we made it through this one and that we have neighbors to look out for and that look out for us. Stay steady, all.

What Books Say About Their Readers

Get ready for books, games, fried chicken, corn and more at MGH Women's Board's 91st Annual Picnic and Bazaar this Tuesday, July 26! For several years, I’ve volunteered to help weed through donated books in order to select ones in sellable shape for the huge Used Book Sale. The Olney community has always been so generous, providing thousands of tomes of bestselling fiction and nonfiction, children's books, cookbooks, test prep guides and more.

Fellow volunteers and I often wonder about the reader who owned and donated a specific eye-catching title. When we receive boxes of books on one particular subject, we know that issue was certainly on the donator’s mind. Some of the most interesting contributions we've seen include:

• Self-help guides involving marriage and family from Dr. Phil, Dr. Laura, and Dr. Ruth

• The Complete Illustrated Kama Sutra

• Advice books from the 1950s on how to be a good wife

• Several copies of Alcoholics Anonymous' 12-Step Program

• The Metrosexual Guide To Style: A Handbook For The Modern Man (look for stylish guys around town)

• An autographed copy of an Ansel Adams photography book

• A photo of George H. Bush, signed "To my good friend Michael" (I guess Michael wasn’t that good a friend)

• Women Who Do Too Much and Women with Attention Deficit Disorder: Embrace Your Differences and Transform Your Life (an apt description of many Olney women)

• The Lawyers' Book Of Ethics by Judge James N. Court (all of the pages are blank)

• Religion guides (are people spreading or shying away from faith?)

• money management guides, like Rich Dad, Poor Dad, Investing for Dummies, and books by Suze Orman (in this economy, people either have no money to invest or have given up and chucked any financial advice)

We also receive in boxes from people cleaning out their attics/basements/houses: outdated encyclopedias; mildewed magazines from the early 1900’s, especially Life and National Geographic; obsolete travel, computer, and software guides; appliance instructions; yearbooks; and moldy, ripped books. I think many people have a packrat mentality, a fear of throwing out or even recycling something because SOMEONE could use it.

Summer Inception

My family enjoyed a relaxing July 4th weekend. After Saturday morning's swim meet, we followed no schedule in meals or errands. On Sunday we got up late, ate breakfast around 9:30am, scrounged up lunch around 2pm, and never left the house except for a mid-morning Costco run. This trip was surprisingly laid-back, sans teeming crowds because Costo actually was not packed with hungry customers in a hurry.

The cloudy skies made us even sleepier and by 3pm, everyone was napping. Around 5pm, my younger daughter -- who had fallen asleep on the family room couch around 2:30pm -- wandered upstairs (where everyone else was snoozing) and into my room and groggily asked, "What time do we have to get up?" Then she climbed up onto the bed and chattered about a funny YouTube video, her question quickly forgotten.

Soon everyone trooped downstairs for dinner. My daughter queried, "Why are we eating dinner again? What about breakfast?" Puzzled silence by all. She persisted, "And why didn't anyone bring me upstairs to sleep? Why did you all leave me downstairs by myself? Why did you all sleep in your clothes?"

Then it dawned on us all: she thought that we had slept overnight and that Sunday night was Monday morning. To her, the sunless, gray skies looked like 5am, not 5pm. So the movie "Inception" is right: time passes much more quickly in a dream than in reality. My daughter passed 8 hours during a 2-hour nap.

Hey -- let's slow down, not speed up, these lazy summer days.

Bodies, Rest and Motion

At the pool the other day, I discussed with a neighbor the merits of different swimsuit styles. My neighbor noted that she prefers stylish one-pieces to the skort tankini she usually wears to chase after her non-swimming yet fearless tyke.

Interesting point: some styles (i.e., bikinis, low- and high-cut tanks) look better on a person who is standing or sitting, but NOT moving. However, if the person wants to be active, a stable garment with more coverage is needed. Lounging in a poolside chair calls for a different kind of swimsuit than one worn while chasing kids, swimming, bending over, squatting ... you get the picture.

Actually, you may not want to get the picture. Our sartorial discussion reminded me of the Seinfeld episode "The Apology," when Jerry's girlfriend walked around in the nude. Instead of enjoying the clothes-free situation, Jerry realized that when she coughed, crouched down or tried to unscrew a jar, her body was not so attractive. He told George, “There's good naked and bad
 naked."

Likewise, my neighbor and I concluded that there are good swimsuits (sturdy tops, skirted bottoms) and bad swimsuits (string bikinis, skimpy one-pieces) when bodies are not at rest, but in motion.

Spare a Square or Two?

I'm a dad. I'm a dad of two great girls. So, I thought I have some daddy things down pat. In the summer. when I'm not working, I have daddy duty while Wifey works. I got things under control. In the morning, the girls eat their breakfast. They go downstairs and play together, maybe watch a little TV, snack, and then I have them work on their summer math packets. By then, it's lunch time and then off to the pool. They get their swimsuits on, the sunblock, even help me pack towels and such. We usually go for a couple swim sessions maybe two and a half. If the little one has to go potty, big sister accompanies her. Yep, things are under control. They take their showers there and we come home. I make dinner for my hard working woman. Of course, I call her to get ideas of what to make- any leftovers I can heat up?
So this time the first born daughter has to go the bathroom. Don't forget to wear to wear your flip flops in there, I tell her. She leaves and I'm poolside with the little one who's begging me for ice cream. I have to say no today and tell her that yesterday, once again they finagled ice cream at the pool and at Rita's. The girls are getting so good at that that we parents are forgetting or not noticing the ice cream content. Where is that child? I wonder. She's been in there for so long. Fifteen, twenty minutes? Then it hits me. She's closer to that age where a little girl starts "the process" of becoming a woman. When's the last time her mother had that talk with her? Please don't let it start now. Not at a pool. I can't help her. I can't go in there. What can I do? Might have to call her mother right now. I ask the little one to go in and check on her sister. Ask her if she's OK. She dutifully goes in and comes right back out. She's OK because I can see her flip flops under the stall. But did you talk with her? I ask. No. Go back in and ask her if she's OK. Little one does. A minute or two passes. I'm cringing. She comes out and reports. She's OK. She just ran out of toilet paper. She was just sitting there and so I gave her some. Well, what a relief. What a great big relief. More so for me. First born comes out. What happened? I ran out and was trying to reach some from the other stall but people kept coming. Wow, sorry to hear that. Reminds me of a Seinfeld episode where Elaine had that happen to her. Next time, ask someone if they could spare a square or two. Yep, I'm a dad. I'm in control.

The Good Mother

Hmmm, what could she possibly be writing about....Well, today's it's about Honey Nut Cheerios versus Lucky Charms. Also known as "Be Careful What You Teach Your Children."

You see, when I had my children, I was determined that I would be a Good Mother and not poison them with high sugar (and delicious!) cereals that I grew up on - Captain Crunch, Lucky Charms, and Sugar Pops (it's got the word sugar in it!) to name a few. So at first I fed my girls plain Cheerios. They not like that very much and we put sugar on it anyway. Then we discovered Honey Nut Cheerios (we tried Multigrain but they liked Honey Nut better - I wonder why..) I can't tell you how much Honey Nut Cheerios we've eaten at $4 a box!!

So I take my HN Cheerios-addicted daughter with me to the grocery store the other day. We get to the cereal aisle.
Daughter: "Mom, why can't we get fun cereals?"
The Good Mother: "Because they're not good for you and have too much sugar."
Daughter: "Oh yeah! Let's compare." And she proceeds to compare the calories, fat, sugar, and carbs. "See mom, Lucky Charms is actually lower in all of them than HN Cheerios."
The Good Mother: Now I'm starting to shake. "That can't be. There must be some category HN Cheerios is better in." But we can't find one. Then I decided to go to my old stand-by.
The Good Mother: "Well, surely it's more expensive. Let's look at the unit cost. (another Good Mother lesson to her daughter) Oh, it's 26 cents compared to 24 cents. Hmm. Not much of a difference."

So, alas, I have no choice but to let her get Lucky Charms (secretly, I couldn't wait to sneak down at midnight and dig into the box myself).

At least this Good Mother can be proud that she taught her children how to read the nutrition labels. I hope she doesn't ask me for Captain Crunch next time.

I Scream for Ice Cream, Again?

The pool is open! The pool is open! Time to pack towels, sunblock, lots of water, snacks, shampoo and clothes- for showering afterwards, got the girls' goggles? OK, Wifey does all the packing. I, at least make sure the girls have applied sunblock and get their backs. So we go to the pool. We arrive at the tail end of adult swim. The life guards blow their whistles and in go the girls. The water's pretty cold on the second day open- our first day there. They splash around and have fun until 45 minutes after the hour when it's time again for adult swim. And there go the whistles. There's usually a mad dash for ice cream (Good Humor) that the pool sells during adult swim. Shall we get some ice cream? Sure, it's our first day here. Chocolate eclair for me, Pops for the girls. Hang around for another session. I jokingly ask- Where are we going out for dinner? Maybe we should just eat at home. Oh, but Panera's open and that's one of Wifey's favorites. Even just got one of those My Panera cards that we need to activate. OK, we'll go there.
We've not all been to Fair Hills as a family. Wifey has checked out Harris Teeter or Harry T as I have dubbed it. Check out the fountain, people tell us. And wouldn't you know, it's turned off when we arrive. What's this Grill Marx? Yet another restaurant in Olney. Someone mentioned, all these restaurants and only one gym. Perhaps we could use another gym. The firstborn daughter notes that all the Tex-Mex places in Olney start with the letter C. California Tortilla, Chipotle, Cafe Rio. Hmmmm. And look! Baskin Robbins is open now too. The girls asked can we go? Well, into Panera to eat. we get our sandwiches and watch a lonely Subway right across from Panera." Are we really going to BR for ice cream?" I ask. "Sure, why not?" Wifey replies. Because they already had ice cream at the pool. "Well, I told them we can go." she says. Who am I to complain. We walk over and see the line. Little one, thinks like me and says one hour later and we'll still be waiting but surprisingly, the line moves. The girls got a one scoop cone and I get a Blizzard oops that's Dairy Queen. I think BR calls their version 31 below or something. I share mine with Wifey. It's only after we're eating them that she says, "Ice cream again?" And I say, "Yeah, I mentioned that in Panera." But all she heard was me make a noise like the teacher in Peanuts. Wah-wah-wah. How lucky can the girls get? That is not going to happen again for a long time. Oh sure, the girls believe me. Wah-wah-wah.

One with Nature...

Well, not really. But one of the things I discovered when I started working (or not working) from home was that I noticed the nature around my house more. In a previous post from last spring, I wrote about my love-hate relationship with the voracious squirrels on my back patio who ate tree droppings with wild abandon leaving a big mess that I felt compelled to sweep off my patio daily (you'll recall the audacious squirrel that taunted me...). All I wanted was a patio free of tree droppings and leftovers. Was that so much to ask? But I digress.



This spring, I am celebrating renewal. First, Toady - the frog that likes to live under our barbeque grill has returned! We hadn't seen him this spring and were worried about his demise (Cocoa, our dog, is also glad to see Toady again). Second, a lone head of swiss chard has decided to return this season in the vegetable garden even though I left him and his brothers rotting last season after I discovered that I don't like to eat swiss chard (even if they do make a nice edge to a vegetable garden...). Finally, after 3 growing seasons, that grape plant and blueberry plant I had no business impulse buying at Good Earth are budding with fruit!!!! Imagine, grapes and blueberries in my own garden! Oh Mother Nature, please let them ripen on the vine and be sweet...

Memories and Farm Fresh Eggs

Oh sweet memories...they're so great - when you can actually remember them. Two experiences recently have me thinking about elusive memories - what a struggle remembering can be, but what joy it can bring. I read an article in last week's Washington Post about a 22 year old woman who was hit on the head by a ceiling fan and suffered complete amnesia. She didn't remember her children, she couldn't remember how to talk, walk or read. She had to start over, and nearly 20 years later, she's rebuilt herself and is going to college. Amazing! The other is closer to home. It bums me out how much I can't remember, but as a volunteer at Winter Growth I interact with 2 young men - they're only about 60! - who are suffering from early onset Alzheimer's. What a tragedy. One of them, call him Bob, raises fresh eggs from the hens in his and his wife's backyard. He offered to bring me some. How will he remember until next week? I gave him a note to give to his wife. "Do you know what this note says?" I ask. "I have no idea," he says. I read it to him. "Well, just give it to your wife," I say. "Okay," he says. The next week - somehow he remembers when he sees me that he's supposed to bring me eggs. "Did you give the note to your wife?" I ask. "I don't know," he says. "That's okay," I say, "but if I give you another note, how will you remember to give it to your wife?" "I don't know," he says sadly. We both just looked at each other stymied. "No big deal," I say, "we'll figure something out next time. Perhaps one of the other residents can help you remember for next week." When I came in today to volunteer 3 of the residents shouted, "Bob has your eggs!!" We were all so thrilled and I am so thrilled to have these beautiful eggs - each a unique color and size - knowing how hard they worked to get to me. Happy memories!

We Should Have Walked

Last Saturday, my family enjoyed our first Olney Days Fireworks under the cool night above Olney Manor Park. Even before arriving, we already strategized our leaving; we parked in the front lot of our church Oakdale Emory United Methodist Church and walked over to the baseball field. We thought we were being clever, positioning ourselves for a speedy exit. My Catholic neighbor asked, "Are we allowed to do this?" I answered, "Sure. If anyone gives you trouble, just say you are meeting your friends, who are members, here."

After witnessing the dazzling light show, we left the park and returned to our car to leave... and so did what seemed to be several hundred other people (perhaps an exaggeration -- I'm not skilled in estimating crowd sizes). Of course the mass exodus meant that our exit was not speedy as planned. The wait to get out of the parking lot was longer than the show itself. At least I could continue socializing and spotting people in the dark among idling cars. I surprised a friend I had not see in years when I stuck my head out of my car and yelled, "T-- ? Is that you?")

As we finally pulled out onto Georgia Avenue, I told my husband, "Perhaps we should have parked at P-- and J--'s house behind Roots and walked over. We would have gotten home sooner." The next morning in church, I asked P-- and J-- if they had walked over to see the previous night's fireworks and sure enough, they had. I think they walked to church that morning too.

Headwaters Drive, 7pm, looking east

Easy Rider

Now that Bowie Mill Road has been repaved, I love driving on it. To me, the “smoother than a baby’s bottom” ride has been worth the one-lane traffic and weather-related construction delays. The only bump that could mar such street sleekness would be a talking bump – like the one in "The Pothole" Seinfeld episode, when George dropped his Phil Rizzuto keychain in a pothole that was later paved over ... a bump which shouted, “Holy Cow!” whenever a car ran over it.

I am glad that the Bowie Mill makeover is complete in every sense of the word. A friend’s street was recently repaved by PEPCO (or another one of those ubiquitous companies digging up the roads in Olney) in what she describes as “a half-a—ed job.” Literally. I drove down her street and sure enough, exactly one half of the street is dark and even while the other half is gray and pocked. I wouldn't be surprised if drivers spoiled by Bowie Mill Road would mistakenly drive down the wrong side of the road on her street just to stay on the smooth side. Come to think of it, I might have done just that. Luckily there was no oncoming traffic.

Tiptoe Through The Tulips

The tulips are blooming! Two weeks ago I strolled among gorgeous yellow, pink, white, orange and red tulips at Brookside Gardens. Vibrant splashes of color were everywhere; people donned similarly bright clothes (except a trio of twenty-somethings wearing black -- 'They must be from Paris," my daughter mused). Lovely bouquets of tulips have been sprouting in neighbors' yards, even on the lawn of a neighbor with more dandelions than grass.

Last week, my father-in-law gave me two pots of baby Easter tulips (six white, six pink). I gleefully replanted them in a row in front of my house, alternating white and pink flowers. Knowing that the exposure of the tulips' roots to dry air and direct sunlight would shock them, I quickly and gently loosened the bulbs from the potted soil, carefully settled them in pre-dug holes, covered them with dirt and watered them. Stepping back to admire my handiwork, I was pleased to see a line of petite yet stunning tulips standing at attention like sentries guarding my home.

One hour later, my darling tulip soldiers were bent over like they had been punched in the stomach and were throwing up. I hastily watered them again in the hopes of resuscitating them. Much to my relief, the next morning they had straightened back up. However, I noticed that their white and pink petals seemed to be shrinking. I kept watering the tulips religiously but within a few days, the flowers shriveled and fell off while their formerly verdant stems and leaves lost their green hue. In stark contrast to my neighbors' large, robust and colorful tulips, my feeble and dull tulips were disintegrating.

Yes, tulips are still blooming everywhere ... except in front of my house, where a sad row of headless, grayish-brown green stalks poke out of the ground. Maybe those tulip bulbs safely underground will bloom for me next year?

What's Going On?

The recent shootings in Olney just leaves me shaking my head. Here? In Olney? I didn't even hear about the first shooting in Olney Mill until Tuesday. And as for the Monday afternoon one. Wow. 4:20 in the afternoon. I was on Emory Lane waiting to turn left on Georgia Avenue right about that time when I heard the wail of the police siren. First one, then two, three, an unmarked police car speeding towards our town. Maybe five in all. For some reason, after I turned I saw a bunch of police cars across from the fire station lights a flashing. I proceeded to the gym passing the McDonald's near the site of the shooting. And I was totally oblivious. Not until the next morning while listening to the radio did I heard about the shooting. What is going on? It's hard to just say these things happen and that no one or no town is immune. Immense kudos to Montgomery County Police for conducting their investigation and making an arrest. A town's condolences to the victims' families.

Library Traitor

On December 2, 2010, Robin (noteverstill) wrote for this blog about her wistful last visit to the Olney library. Like her, I miss the place. It was a second home to me; I spent hours poring through its collections and working on FOL's used book sale. The staff became old friends and I ran into so many long-lost Olney pals. Now every time I drive by the shuttered Olney library, I feel a twinge of sadness mixed with guilt. Why guilt?

Even before the Olney library closed its doors, I was already stepping out ... to the Howard County library in Glenwood. Yes, I was a traitor. Instead of patronizing other Montgomery County branches, I snuck up Georgia Avenue to the sparkling Glenwood facility with its enormous book, DVD, and audio book collections; ample natural lighting; and cozy cafe. I joked with the Olney staff (employed by cash-strapped Montgomery County) that Howard County's librarians even had metal name tags! I couldn't hide my enthusiasm for the Glenwood facility; while organizing the used book sale near the check-out counter, whenever I overheard a patron's dismayed discovery about the Olney library's closing, I would take him/her aside and whisper, "Try the Howard County library just 20 minutes up Georgia Avenue."

Once my kids had a taste of the Glenwood facility, they never wanted to return to the Olney library. Whenever I bumped into an Olney resident at Glenwood, we would exchange slightly embarrassed smiles and avert eyes like mutually exposed cheaters. The most embarrassing moment was when I ran into an Olney librarian who asked, "Where do you go now?"

Shuffling my feet, I looked down and mumbled, "Uh... actually, I've been going to the Howard County library --"

"Good for you! I was going to suggest that facility," she patted my arm reassuringly.

Despite infrequent visits to the Aspen Hill and Wheaton branches of the Montgomery County library, I admit that yes, my loyalty has shifted to the Howard County library... at least until the renovated Olney library reopens next year.

What Day is It, Anyway?

With school closed so much for the past 2 weeks, I have lost track of what day of the week it is. Last week, the kids were home on Monday for Martin Luther King Jr. Day and then on Tuesday for a snow day. By mid-week, my time radar was completely scrambled. As I pulled out of the driveway one morning, I spotted blue recycling bins everywhere."Geez," I mumbled, "why are everyone's bins out so early? It's only Wednesday morning. Why not wait until tonight to put them out for tomorrow's pickup?" Then I heard a truck's low rumbling and realized that my neighbors were not all crazy early birds ... but that it was actually Thursday, recycling day.

This week was worse: after Monday off for Teacher's Professional Day, the kids had school on Tuesday but then enjoyed snow days on Wednesday, Thursday and Friday! On Thursday night, I wrote a message on the OBX to cancel a Saturday event "originally scheduled for tomorrow." Luckily, a sharp-eyed OBX reader emailed me to clarify if I actually meant tomorrow (Friday) or the day after tomorrow (Saturday).

Yesterday I ran errands with my kids, thinking it was Saturday (after all, they hadn't had school the day before). We enjoyed a strange sensation of freedom from the usual weekend activities. This bubble of freedom, however, was burst when we were up in Howard County and discovered that we needed to be back in Olney for Friday afternoon piano lessons.

So, today is Saturday, right? Is it the weekend yet? Can anyone tell at this point?

It's a little bit funny...this feeling inside...

Okay, I know our posts are supposed to be funny but I just have to write about the incredible outpouring of support shown to the Popeck family upon the loss of their treasured son, Alex. What a family! For a family of four they have done the work of several families in their level of community involvement and connectedness. I now regret that my girls, both band students, never had the opportunity to take an arts rotation (much to their father's, the art teacher, chagrin) so they could have had Bart Popeck as a teacher. What a guy! (and it turns out he's a fellow Terp and greek to boot!). Thousands of people attended the funeral on Monday and hundreds appear to have attended the 3 days of shiva. The Popecks have expressed being blown away by the response to their Caringbridge web site: http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/alexpopeck/guestbook

Alas, my newly 15 year old has informed me that she can start driving in 9 months. I have informed her that she won't be driving any time soon if I can help it.

Rest in peace, Alex. May you find peace, Bart and Betsy. Thank you for sharing yourselves with Olney. And Olney...way to go!