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?