May 2004 Archives

Baltimore-Washington International Airport averages about 20" of snow a year. I wouldn't have guessed it was that much.
K-

A- winds up 12 years of public education today with his final final in, of all things, band. I didn't hear him practicing last night so I'm guessing he's not too worried about it.

Baccalaureate was last Sunday. Because of its quasi-spiritual aspects, baccalaureate is optional. Only about 40 students chose to participate. Nevertheless it was a nice, worthwhile experience and we got to see A- in his graduation attire for the first time.

He has a couple of award ceremonies to get through tonight and tomorrow morning as well as some rehearsals. Graduation is set for next Wednesday. Then it's a week at Senior Week down in Ocean City, a summer job, and the first day of the rest of his life.
K-

Last week I mentioned that the 17-year cicadas were coming.

Over on the right you'll see a photo of a tree limb I took in my backyard earlier this morning. The 17-year cicadas are here and I'm loving every minute of it.

I noticed them for the first time coming out of church last Sunday. A sound. A thrumming background noise that is now nonstop. If any of you remember the movie War of the Worlds from the '50s, the cicadas sound like the ray guns used by the Martians but far off in the distance. Last night I slept with the windows open. Around 3 AM I awoke thinking my tinnitus had gone berserk. "What is that sound?" I wondered as I lay there half-asleep. I had to get up and convince myself that it was the cicadas and not my ears that were creating the noise.

Since Sunday the cicadas have become much more noticeable. The sidewalk coming into work is coated with crushed cicada bodies. (Who's stepping on these things? They're big and probably gooey on the inside. You'd have to wipe your feet after an encounter.) The black locust trees in my neighborhood have multitudes of them on their branches. The maple in my back yard is a veritable cicada seraglio.

I've got a red maple and a dogwood in my front yard that I planted when we first moved in. They're small and fragile. I don't know that the trees will tolerate a lot of abuse. So I've got to "bag" those trees to keep the bugs from damaging the new branches. It'll look weird for a month but then the cicadas will be gone for another 17 years.
K-

Conversation between my 15-year-old son and me yesterday while riding together in the car. Immediately preceding the conversation D- let loose with a terrific sneeze.

"Have you ever had a really big sneeze, Daddy?"
"Occasionally, I suppose."
"I really like them. I always feel this great sense of relief right after. It's like a giant fart that doesn't stink."

K-

I took off from work today to get a few things done around the house and yard. D- is having his Confirmation tomorrow and all sorts of relatives and friends will be around this weekend leaving me little time for the usual Harry Homeowner activities. So I'll mow and trim the yard, put down some more mulch, and generally spruce up the place.

This morning I finished up refurbishing the front door and the surrounding woodwork. I replaced the "brass" kick panel the builder put on the front door with a real one. I also replaced the plastic doorbell ringer the builder gave me with a nice brass one that matches the new kick panel and door knocker. The project was more involved than I anticipated. I was forced to cut out a hole in the wood about 1" deep and about 5/8" in diameter so that the brass plate would sit flush on the wood. Complicating the whole thing was that the wire for the doorbell was in my way, making it difficult to cut out the wood without nicking the wire insulation. With a little electrician's tape and my Dremmel Tool, I was able to do the job without any problem. (Notice the way I cut out the raised woodwork on the right-hand side nicely following the curve of the brass plate.)

How does it look?
K-

Got gasoline this morning. Paid $2.03 a gallon for middle grade.

How about where you live... what are you paying for gas?
K-

These things are coming to Maryland. 17-year cicadas are set to emerge from their subterranean lairs beginning any day now. Reagan was president when they were last here. I was here for the last brood. It's amazing... they're loud and all over the place.

Imagine... underground for 4 administrations, do the wild thing, then die.

That has to be a strong argument for evolution. Would an intelligent, supreme being create such a wacky life style?
K-

Sometimes nostalgia can be taken too far.

Tonight CBS is airing a reunion of the old Dick Van Dyke Show. I don't plan to watch. Some things - some places - ought to be immune from visits 40 years later so that they remain large, perfect, and treasured in our memories.

New Rochelle, New York, is one such place. While New Rochelle certainly exists on the map, it will forever be the imaginary home of Rob and Laura Petrie. Black and white, twin beds, and all.

When I was young we moved around a bit during my formative years. But every week I could suspend disbelief for 30 minutes and get pleasure from that invented world. The make-believe TV worlds that bring us the greatest pleasure live on in our memories like Camelot or Bedford Falls long after they have departed from the prime time air waves.

As a kid, I watched the shows at night, then watched and rewatched them as reruns. Occasionally I'll find an episode while cable surfing. I can jump into an episode halfway through, and even though it's been since the '60s, I can still recall dialog word for word.

My brainpan continues to be clogged with Dick Van Dyke trivia. "What is the name of Sally Rogers's cat?" (Mr. Henderson) "What is Richie's middle name? (Rosebud - Robert Oscar Sam Edward Benjamin Ulysses David) "What is Buddy's wife's name?" (Pickles)

I usually don't like TV reunions. They can't capture past greatness. Cheap nostalgia comes with a price.

Why is CBS messing with our memories?
K-

Every once in a while, I become enthralled with some new toy. That toy becomes the object of much research, thought, and appeal. Last August, a digital camera was the focus of my attention. (Pun intended.) Recently, it's been a new addition to my relatively meager collection of kitchen gadgets. (I don't cook all that often. Certainly nowhere near as often as S- would like. But I really enjoy it when I do.) I first spied it at a local Kitchen Bazaar store. It was shiny, sharp, and oh-so-cool. I surfed the web looking for recommendations. I found them. All sorts of people I've never heard of love it. What better recommendation could there be? I was back and forth. Should I get it? Should I not? I already have something similar. It's really expensive.

This coming weekend we're having a big party. My tabouli has already been requested. So much chopping and dicing... I couldn't take it any longer. It's on its way. It'll be here Wednesday.

The Wusthof Grand Prix Santoku knife. Seven inches of high-carbon, razor-sharp, kitchen-gadget stainless steel.

What can I say? It's a little slice of heaven.

Pun intended.
K-

I spent the weekend doing manly chores around the house. I did some painting, mowing, and mulching.

The front porch and front door are looking really shabby so I'm in the throes of refurbishing them. Over the weekend, I got the front door and the wood all around the front door sanded and painted. I did a good job if I do say so. I even got a new brass door knocker and installed it. The fiberglass pillars supporting the porch are peeling paint. They're next on my list of paint jobs. Once I decide to do it, I don't really mind painting.

May in Maryland is grass growing season. And even though the yard took a while to get going, it's in full swing now so, of course, I was forced to mow. Working in the yard is not my favorite chore. If I wear earplugs, mowing the yard is just barely tolerable.

But I also mulched. Blech! Unlike most of the other suburban males in my neighborhood, I don't get an erection whenever step one of a job is "Get out Wheelbarrow". In fact, I pretty much despise any and all jobs that require one and assiduously avoid such jobs as long as possible. I just hate hauling that stuff around and the tedium of lifting prickly bushes to tuck the stuff underneath. Plus mulch always seems to give me a rash on my arms.

But it's getting hot and it's been two years since I last mulched. I bit the bullet this weekend and performed my duty.
K-

I bought underwear over the weekend. I've got brand new cotton comfort - top and bottom - to start off my work week. Yahoo!
K-

I had a new yard bird over the weekend. (For nonbirders, a "yard bird" is the first of a species identified when you are physically in your own yard.) I was outside painting and I heard it first. That "robin with a sore throat" song of the male scarlet tanager. I looked over to the woods where I thought I heard it and up popped that unmistakable plumage.

I've got 56 yard birds on my Beckett Haus list. Not as good as at my old house but not too bad considering the developed character of my neighborhood.
K-

I've been away on travel most of the week so time for some catch up:

1. Fred and Ethel's brood have fledged. I checked the box today and everyone had vamoosed. Fred is moping around the yard singing his heart out; I don't know where Ethel is. Perhaps she's out shopping.

2. My other nest box has some house wrens moving in. Because they're a native North American species I can't do much about it. We'll just have to hope that no house sparrows come around looking to cause trouble with Fred and Ethel.

3. Next Saturday is D-'s confirmation. My mother is flying in from Detroit for the event and my in-laws are driving up from Florida. D- has been attending confirmation classes all year long and he's decided to go ahead with his "mature affirmation of faith" as the Book of Common Prayer calls it.

4. I missed Friends Thursday night. Did anything interesting happen?

5. Gunman opened fire on a crowd of students outside Randallstown High School seriously injuring 4 of them. Damn, I can't figure people out. If you heard about it out your way, leave a comment. I'd be curious how far that kind of stuff travels.

6. The boys and I are going off shopping for Mother's Day presents later on today.

More later.
K-

OK, I'll say it. This drawn-out departure of Friends is only one step removed from Chinese water torture. Seems like every time I surf by an NBC affiliate station, I see a Friends promo proclaiming "final episode", "penultimate episode", "three episodes to go". Then there are the TV Guide covers, the E! channel rehashes and restrospectives, Larry King Live, etc. Won't these people ever leave?

I admit I was never a regular watcher of the show. I could never really understand how a show whose cast includes 5 characters who are fundamentally annoying could have become so popular. (Joey Tribbiani is the only character who isn't annoying.) I'll admit some shows exhibit good writing but Friends can't claim to be one of the great sitcoms of TV history. It was good but not great.

Can't Friends just quietly fade to black?
K-

We're going to a party tonight. Each family is supposed to bring something good to eat. I volunteered to make my tabouli. It's an exceptionally good dish, especially so in the summer when you can get local, vine-ripened tomatoes at the roadside produce stand.

But the key component of tabouli is bulgur wheat. Bulgur wheat is a staple in Lebanese cooking but I guess it's not an in-demand commodity here in suburban Howard County. Last night I went to two different supermarkets in search of bulgur wheat. Despite the best efforts of some very helpful employees, no luck.

Today I was bound and determined that I would find a box of bulgur wheat in Howard County. After all, I've found it here in the county before. I went to another Safeway. A bigger, better one, I thought, than the one I went to last night. But it was a carbon copy of the other Safeway. Strike One.

I went to a "Gucci" Giant; still no luck. This was supposed to be the be-all and end-all supermarket. They even demolished a movie theater to build it. Lots of ethnic foods, all nicely labeled with the country of origin, but nothing from the Middle East. I was able to find whole grain bulgur wheat at the Gucci Giant but as we all know, whole grain anything tastes like shit. (Come on... admit it. Do you really like whole grain pasta or whole grain bread?) I wasn't taking any chances with my cooking reputation by putting Bob's Whole Grain Bulgur in my tabouli. Strike Two.

I next went to an Asian Grocery but they didn't have bulgur wheat either. (What they did have would amaze you and is the topic for a post another time.) Strike Three.

Fortunately, in cooking you get more than three strikes. ("You're all alone in the kitchen," as one of my heroes, Julia Child, once said.) I knew of one other supermarket chain I hadn't tried. I hit the Super Fresh, which is what A&P morphed into around here a few years ago. People in supermarkets are so friendly and helpful nowadays. As soon as I went in an employee asked what I was looking for.

"Bulgur wheat." I sounded desperate.
"What's that?" My hopes sank.
"Well, it's used in Middle Eastern cooking to make tabouli, kibbe, and other things," I explained.
"I'm not sure if we have it but if we do, it's in aisle 10."
He led me over to aisle 10 and low and behold, there on the shelf sat two boxes of Old World Organic Bulgur Wheat. The front of the box has a picture of what looks like a gypsy riding in a donkey cart toward some dusty town far off in the distance.

Pay dirt. What more could you want from a box of bulgur wheat? It was organic, it wasn't whole grain, and the box had a peasant on it. I bought both boxes.

I like suburbia and I like Howard County. But sometimes where I live can be a little too white bread, a little too bourgeois. I'm sure that had I lived in Greenwich Village finding bulgur wheat just wouldn't be a problem. (Although I'd very likely be gay, so there are always trade-offs.)

The bulgur wheat is chilling in the refrigerator; I'll chop the green onions, tomatoes, and parsley in a bit. The folks at tonight's party will rave.
K-