City living: riding the bus and growing some goodies

Lately I've been relishing the characters on the bus, a sort of in-your-face to those who think the bus is for the proletariat. Last week, a little old woman was standing in the middle of the bus preaching in Spanish. I don't know much Spanish, but I assume it was preaching because I heard the words "padre" and "santos" a number of times. Yet she was so confident and happy that I felt strangely comforted by her. I was actually sad when she got off the bus. Until yesterday, the crazies were mostly like that - unobtrusive and occasionally amusing. But yesterday, an older man with a neck brace in a wheelchair got on the bus. The driver had to help him onto the lift and push him into the wheelchair spot, and when she turned him around I could see patches sewn on his shirt about the Vietnam war and a particularly lovely one that said something to the effect of Jane Fonda being a "traitor bitch". Yeah, it was that kind of morning.

The man was obviously drunk or otherwise under the influence and spent most of the bus ride shouting obscenities, the only coherent words from his mouth. Until he looked over a guy sitting in a seat nearby, listening to his iPod. The bus driver had already threatened to kick the drunk veteran off the bus for his language, but she stopped the bus and made him get off immediately after he started shouting at the iPod guy and ramming his wheelchair into him. Wow.

At first I felt shaken up. I was already kind of tired and not in the mood for some crazy guy to ruin my morning. But then I thought about all the sad people featured in that show "Intervention" who deal with addictions, and I pictured this drunken vet as he probably used to be: a young man who was just living his life until he got drafted into the army, sent to some strange country, injured, sewn up, and sent home. Left to his own devices, perhaps ignored by the overwhelmed and underequipped VA, to deal with his pain the only ways he knew how. And I felt sad. Because 40 years ago, this man surely did not think he would end up this way, shouting at strangers and complaining about his war wounds. I hope he has someone to take care of him. I hope he at least has someplace to call home. After he got off the bus, a woman on the sidewalk started talking to him, and it left me with some hope that she would at least get him to a safe place where he could sleep off his buzz, get some food, perhaps move on, forgetting the stir he caused that morning.

He didn't ruin my day after all. Upon returning home, I inspected the container garden I had planted last week. Plastic and ceramic pots resting on wide windowsills, taking up the cat's sunny spot, filled with Organic Mechanic potting soil and some courageous little seeds. In the living room, mesclun greens, zucchini, and peppers bask in the sun, while rye grass rests in the bathroom and dwarf peas greet the day in my bedroom. The rye grass was first, its pointy blades poking straight up through the soil. In another week, it will be ready for attack by the cat, giving my spider plants a welcome respite from dear kitty's munch. The mesclun greens were next, although different varieties germinate at different times, so although it looks like clover right now, someday it will be a salad. And now, the timid pea shoots are pushing the soil aside, emerging in the afternoon sun. I've been putting frozen peas in many of my dishes, so the idea of plucking those fresh little globes from my bedroom window for a breakfast delight of scrambled eggs with mushrooms, peas, and cheddar cheese, topped with roasted red pepper and artichoke dip and scooped up with toast, is almost too much to bear. I can hardly wait.

The squash and the peppers take a little longer to germinate. I've been hoping to plant carrots, beets, and tomatoes as well, so once I know my current plots are alive and well, I'll tackle the root veggies and needy tomatoes next. I was so worried that nothing would grow, and instead the bounty is just beginning. Photos to come soon.

A loss of public art

Last month, a dear friend and I trekked out to Hain's Point, which is in East Potomac Park. It's a peninsula of sorts, with the Washington Channel on one side and the Potomac on the other. The east side provides lovely views of some large houses and Fort McNair; the west side is a great place to watch the planes land at Reagan National Airport. At the end, in the middle of a big field, is the reason we trekked out there, carrying bags of goodies from the Whole Foods salad bar at 5:30 on a Saturday evening: The Awakening, one of the few things my dear friend missed after moving away from DC. It's a giant sculpture that rises out of the ground, providing endless opportunities for climbing and admiring.

Except that it was gone. No scar in the earth from where it was dug up, no plaque commemorating the work of art, and nothing except some old wintered grass left in its place. We were saddened. Apparently the National Park Service had long ago lost its permit to keep the sculpture there, and perhaps the artist found himself so strapped for cash that he decided to sell it to a developer in February 2008. So now, The Awakening emerges from blocks of pavement in a new mixed-use development on the southwest shore of Maryland's peninsula, another tourist trap.

Why didn't the National Park Service fight for the sculpture? Why haven't they replaced it with other artwork, something else for people to admire on a sunny day? We suspect it's because Hain's Point is not a tourist trap. It's not easily accessible by metro train or bus. There are no fancy restaurants or hotels nearby, just a scrubby golf course and some nice playground equipment. On that chilly Saturday afternoon, we were a couple of white faces among a diverse crowd of latino and black residents of DC and nearby neighborhoods who were picnicking, fishing, and flying kites. If anyone deserves public artwork to admire, it's the people whose income taxes (exorbitant in the District) keep the metropolitan area afloat during times when fewer tourists can afford to flock to the better-known memorials and museums. DC doesn't need more concrete playgrounds like National Harbor, it needs more community involvement. And it needs to support more artists, without whose creativity and hard work the city would be just another slab of asphalt. Please, National Park Service, bring public artwork back to East Potomac Park.

Going back in time

Recently, I have read items from a couple of books about current events and culture that were written either before September 11, 2001, or just after George W. Bush took office but before the Iraq war. I would love to call these writers and have lengthy conversations about how they now view what they wrote then, given what we've all been through. Because what they wrote then makes no sense now. It's like watching a movie or tv show filmed before 9/11 in which anyone can walk through the automatic sliding doors of the airport and right up to the gate, ticketed or not. Remember those days, when you could wait for you loved ones' airplane to pull up to the gate in the chairs usually reserved for passengers, instead of on the cold tile next to the baggage carousel? It may be such a little thing, but it reminds us of how much has changed in these 7 and 1/2 years.

One of these books I've been perusing is "Partly Cloudy Patriot" by Sarah Vowell. One of the reviewers uses the word 'droll' to describe the book, and droll she is. She has a lengthy chapter about the election in 2000, and her comments meld with the chapter about Al Gore to contrast the bumbling foolishness of the president we got with the egghead president we actually elected. This chapter was written just after Bush's inauguration, and she couldn't possibly have guessed what would ensue. In any case, this was all put in the context of the horrors of high school, in which the jocks rule the school and the nerds get teased and ridiculed for their inability to do pull-ups in gym class. Sarah pined for the day that nerds would run the world.

Now they do. And as much as our country has changed from the beginning of Bush's presidency to the end, it has changed doubly in the month since then. A country run by propeller-heads - if they can fix what's wrong, we may never go back to brush-cutting plain-talkers again. I shudder to think about what could happen if we get this wrong.

Cruel joke (and revolt of the parentheses)

Aside from a short jaunt off the wagon, I've been vegetarian for about 3 and 1/2 years (although I still eat sustainably raised and harvested fish, eggs, and cheese). It was mostly for environmental reasons, but also an attempt to maintain a healthy diet. (Do M&M cookies count as a food group?) Being vegetarian leads you to learn to make really weird meals out of things that shouldn't go together but have a complete array of vitamins, carbs, and proteins, so you shove it down and don't share with others for fear of the dreaded "you eat this?!" look. But despite my salads with beets and fennel, despite my oatmeal with protein powder and flax seeds, despite my scrambled eggs with mushrooms and peas (YUM!) and my 4-times-a-week gym habit, I couldn't lose weight and often felt gross enough to wish I could wear sweatpants to work.

Enter a dalliance through the local chain bookstore one Friday evening, in between a boring workday and dinner with friends. The Buy one Get one Half off shelf called my name. On it, a book called Eat Right 4 Your Blood Type. Grammar wonk that I am, I refuse to read anything that has a number instead of a word in the title, and am far less willing to read any diet book whatsoever. But I might have just fulfilled my Recommended Daily Allowance of said M&M cookie food group, and thus, the guilt won out, so I picked it up and glanced inside. And what of this blood type diet? What do my platelets wish for me to consume? No wheat at all (except for Ezekiel bread, which is not a loaf of baked flour at all, but rather a living thing itself, apparently) and no corn either, no coffee (wha?!), no dairy (blasphemy!), no peanut butter or other legumes (okay, now this has gone too far). Alas, my veggie burgers and tofurky (main ingredient: wheat gluten), gourmet Trader Joe's-type snack crisps, lentil soup, corn tortilla'ed fajitas, have all been working against me.

Instead, meat. Meat, meat, meat. Bison and chicken and fish (oh my!). Many of my beloved fruits, veggies, and nuts are still okay, as are most beans and some other types of grains, like funny little quinoa. But basically I should be eating like a caveman. The "highly beneficial" foods include: meat (no pork), the gamier, the better; dark leafy greens like kale, chard, collards; almonds, walnuts, flax, and pumpkin seeds; berries (but not strawberries, those acidic little rascals) and other red fruits; artichokes, broccoli, sweet potatoes, red peppers, and other such roughage; pinto beans and black-eyed peas. Basically, a lot of the foods I already eat, but not some of the foods I always thought were best for me. Green tea is the new caffeine, vodka is the new taboo (I never liked it much anyway).

Here's the best news. Chocolate: okay. Beer and wine: okay. Sushi (with brown rice): okay (in fact, more than okay. Enter the kelp/seaweed food group). I think I can do this, if I can just get over the fact that raising animals for food is an eco-no-no. The famous favorite ag advice folks say to cut out the meat, eat less animal, plan a night of meatless meals. And here I am, chowing down on bison jerky and chicken stir-fry. It will be hard to slice off the cookie-and-muffin section of my food pyramid, but the franken-bread and quinoa helps. The book seems to be pretty scientifically based, from what little I remember from high school biology, but I'm still skeptical. However, it's been 10 days, and I feel better. No obnoxious diet-devotee testimony here, but my stomach feels better, my skin cleared up a little bit (pure coincidence, I say. There's a mega zit waiting to take over my chin, I can feel it). And I feel more satisfied when I eat. For what it's worth. I vow not to eat cow, and I promise to purchase my meat from the farmers markets and Whole Foods. There might be some cheese involved though. Feta, goat cheese, mozzarella, you better hide.

The caveman diet: all of the flesh, none of the fashion.

Coming round, full circle

"On a short, dead-end street lined with low-income apartment complexes, a garden grows. Almost-ripe zucchini and tomatoes hang from tall plants. The compost heap looks tidy and fertile. Weeds are nowhere to be found, thanks to upkeep by a few dedicated gardeners who can finally breathe a sigh of relief. They get to continue sowing the soil for many more years."

I wrote those words more than 8 years ago for an article in the Columbia Missourian about the Community Garden Coalition. (It was so long ago that the article isn't in the online archives anymore.) I got kudos in the daily staff email from the Editor-in-Chief, who said that I had managed to made even a garden sound interesting. (Maybe because gardens are interesting!) I was so proud - little old me, getting a shout-out from the chief.

Well, it has happened again. I scrolled down Grist's front page to find this posting: Food and the Beloved Community by Grist's ag guru Tom Philpott. It's about community gardens and the legacy of Martin Luther King, Jr., a speech given at the Duke Gardens during an MLK Day of Service event. It caught my eye because I read Philpott's column very often, but also because I had just signed up for the Rooting DC 2009 conference about community gardening, and had also talked with someone today about the civil rights and discrimination issues that the USDA is dealing with. So imagine my surprise when the very first line of the Grist piece, the note before the text, references the organization I helped start! Back in the day, Farmhand was just a bunch of stressed out students shoveling cow poop and cutting brush. The students who took over as Farmhand leaders have done some fantastic work this year, far better than I could ever hope to have done. I'm so proud that this little group has made such an impact that a Grist guru would participate in such an event and write about it in an internationally read and respected forum, no less! Another shout-out from the chief, free publicity for a deserving and accomplished group of students, and inspiration to keep working for change.

Shakespeare in Prison

I just watched the 2005 Sundance documentary "Shakespeare Behind Bars," about a group of prisoners at Luther Luckett Correctional Complex in Kentucky who have formed a theater troupe and present Shakespeare's plays to fellow inmates and family members. This was after listening to "Act V," an episode of NPR's This American Life about a Shakespeare troupe in the Missouri Eastern Correctional Center that is part of the Prison Performing Arts program in Missouri. The two programs initially piqued my interest because I'm a big fan of Shakespeare's work. Of the many things I learned in junior high and high school, the classes that still stick out in my mind are the ones in which we read, nay, dissected A Midsummer Night's Dream and Macbeth, sifting through the words to understand not just the letters and sounds, but also the context of the lines and the inner motivations of the complex and tragic characters who said so much beyond those words. Shakespeare knew human nature well, and he understood the very real, very complicated situations he put his protagonists in. Which is why it is very a propos for prison inmates to be reciting Hamlet and The Tempest.

It was so moving to listen to the inmates in both shows talk about their experiences, what their life was like before being locked up, what they wanted to do when they got out (if they were eligible for parole). A few in the Sundance documentary even talked about the crimes they had committed. These are people who are demonized in cop shows, and yet you forget that they're criminals when you hear them working with the program leaders on a particular line of the play that they're trying to crawl into. You root for the ones who have been in prison for many years and are up for parole hearings soon, and your heart falls when you learn that they have been denied parole, deferred for 5 or 6 years, even though they have played leadership roles in the troupe and in the data lab where many of the inmates work. Aside from the diversion that play practice gives them each day, the inmates participate because everything else about prison life is so dehumanizing (daily strip search, anyone?), but when they're performing, when they're interacting with each other and with Shakespearean scholars in a scene, everyone is on the same level. Everyone is a complex human, examining their own nature and comparing themselves to kings and queens, sons and daughters. So many people say that they fear public speaking more than they fear death, but perhaps to these inmates, many of whom have stared down death, facing their inner demons may be the scariest thing of all. When a person has led a life influenced by poverty, broken homes, and abuse, how terrifying it must feel to dig down deep, expose their vulnerabilities through words written 400 years ago that they can often relate to, and perform in front of their peers. To do such a thing and receive overwhelming praise must feel so empowering.

According to the Luther Luckett website, the annual cost per inmate is more than $16,000 of the taxpayers' money. That's a year of college tuition. It's just under the January 2008 poverty line for a family of three. At an average inmate population of 1,073, that adds up to a very large operating budget. We're spending this much money on people who will be locked up for 20 years or more, but what are we doing to keep them from coming back, spending another $16K on them for each year that they return to a life of crime? The Warden Tom Daily, at the beginning of the film, wishes that the inmates would just put the prison out of business by returning to the outside world and not giving the courts a reason to send them back to jail. How many wardens feel, as he does, that each day of an inmate's life should be spent preparing them to leave?

Fast food guilt trip

I never thought I'd devote this much interweb space to fast food, but then I came across this great piece on Grist about the Whopper Virgins. I had only ever seen the tv commercials, but the actual website has a longer video about the international taste test. The writer makes a better point about food and the United States' role in world cuisine and nutrition. After you watch the videos on the Whopper Virgins website, check out this 20-minute piece from Mark Bittman. Then go get yourself a real meal, preferably home-cooked with fresh ingredients. Don't do it for the environment. Do it for your tastebuds.

Playing with food

Food combinations you may not have thought of that may change your life:

~Salad: mixed greens, diced cooked beets, crumbled goat cheese, sliced fennel bulb, artichoke hearts, balsamic vinegar, olive oil. Emphasis on the fennel. Add tuna or other fish and use honey mustard dressing for another variation.

~ Breakfast: one scoop Berries and Whey protein powder, 1/2 cup quick cook oats, 2 tbsp. toasted flax seeds, 1 cup water. Tastes like the strawberries and cream instant oatmeal packets, yet much better for you. Substitute sliced almonds or walnuts for flax seeds.

~Broccoli slaw: buy it prepackaged or make your own with shredded broccoli stems and carrots. Use liberally. Good with chopped cucumber, tomato, and cottage cheese.

~Trader Joe's Roasted Red Pepper and Artichoke Tapenade: Great on veggie burgers and in pasta.

~White Bean and Basil Hummus: almost as creamy as alfredo sauce when thinned out, but much better for you. Also incredibly addictive when used as a dip with chips.

~Almond butter: sorry, I still think peanut butter wins this one. But almond butter is a healthier option and can do anything peanut butter can do.

~Snack: Greek yogurt, toasted flax seeds, honey. Add fresh or thawed frozen fruit, jam, and/or granola. Substitute agave nectar for honey for a low glycemic index kick.

It's a fine thing we do here in this city

Working for the federal government has its perks, among them being the ability to do good for the nation and the world. But let us not forget the roles we play in our local ecological setting, for the extirpation of one can mean the loss of a whole lot more. As Sasha and Malia Obama prepare to start classes in their new D.C. private school tomorrow, may the Obama family not forget that although the international cameras may be trained on their every move, they are now residents of this fine city as well. And so, Battered D.C. Awaits Arrival of a Presidential 'Partner'.

A new year, another reinvention

On December 29th, 2001, during a pensive trip home from college for an abbreviated winter break, I made some pretty big decisions about my life that set me on the path that led me to where I am now. I have come to refer to it as That Fateful Day. Since then, I have considered that my personal new year, a chance to look back during a time when it's cold and dark and slow and everyone is readying their resolutions to proclaim two days later when the ball drops. Each year, I have found myself pining for variations on the same themes, but due to recent developments in my life, I find that I have reached the end of my list with most of my goals checked off. So what is there left to say? What can I pine for now? The usual things that other people ache for: money. love. lose 10 pounds. get a new hobby. buy a home. Time to start doing the things that people do when they stick their toes in the mud and let it ooze up over their feet. For many years, I spent this Fateful Day looking both backward and forward and I didn't stop to think about the very space I was in. So maybe that's my new goal: try to perfect the things I'm doing right here. Among those will be rediscovering my creativity, which surely means another change in direction of what I put on this page. I'll be learning how to use my camera to its fullest extent, seeing things differently through its lens. Like:




My dear kitty is, of course, a supermodel in her own right, and lots of digital space was filled on two photo shoots with a sunbeam. Not to brag or anything, but...




There will be more resolutions and new mottos for a better way of life, but those words may be couched in new promises and deeds, for we only do what we can with the things that each day gives us. Something to consider: if you don't precisely articulate your conscious desires, your unconscious patterns will come true instead. So cheers to living out our conscious desires, come what may.

As if fast food chains haven't done enough damage already

Have you seen the Burger King commercial in which some BK representatives go to remote areas of the world (where people eat things like whale and seal because that's all there is, which means they have probably never heard of BK or MickeyD's or any of that other poison) and have the natives eat a Whopper and a Big Mac? According to the commercial, these natives prefer the Whopper over the competitor's similar, yet not flame-broiled, greasy lump of gray processed meat and soy filler product. Although, the taste tester then says that, of course, neither option compares to the seal steak waiting for them at home.

Has Burger King not been made aware of the fact that a huge reason for the obesity and diabetes epidemics in Latinos, American Indians, and other populations is that their traditional diets based on things that they have grown in the ground for thousands of years have been replaced by processed food-like products that contain mostly fillers, salt, and sugar? (Just because soy and corn grow in the ground doesn't mean they're healthy as hydrogenated oils and shelf-stable materials, by the way.) Has no one told BK executives that introducing their flame-broiled taste to people in the arctic is probably not the most responsible thing for a company to be doing?

Maybe I'm over-thinking it. But it's one thing to tempt slovenly Americans with such fare. It's another to imply that greasy burgers on processed-flour buns could even compare to traditional diets that keep communities together.

Weapons of mass construction

I've been reading this book called "Three Cups of Tea," by Greg Mortenson and David Oliver Relin. I first learned about the book through an article about Mortenson in an Outside magazine article, and Mortenson is the perfect Outside hero: grew up climbing mountains with missionary parents in Africa, played football in Minnesota, became an Army nurse and general tough guy with a good soul. His failed attempt at climbing K2 in Pakistan led him to a remote village with children dedicated to learning despite the lack of a school or a full-time teacher. Mortenson was so struck by the kindness of the people in the village that he vowed to raise enough money to come back and build the village a school.

I'm at the part now where he finally made it back with the materials for the school, only to learn that before he could build it, he would have to build a bridge to transport the wood, concrete, and other materials across the river. From the Outside article, I know that he succeeded and has made it his life's work to build schools for other villages in Afghanistan and Pakistan, especially for girls. It's hard work, and he's truly a hero. Educating people in remote areas of the world is one of the best ways to ensure that they don't become ensnared in the political and financial grips of extremism like we have seen so much of recently. Mortenson's hard work makes me feel really guilty for whiling away the hours in front of a computer, pretending like the work I do will one day help someone. There's something more I can be doing. I just wish I could figure out what that is. I don't think I'm nearly crazy enough to attempt anything of this magnitude.

In any case, go read the book. It's a true story but reads like good fiction. You know that feeling when you get really wrapped up in a story and your stomach tightens when the protagonist is dealing with some kind of conflict? It's like that, only in fiction, you realize it's not true, whereas in this book, the realization that this really happened makes your stomach tie a double knot. Don't worry, it's worth it. At least, so far.

New food advice

I just found a new source of information on timely and practical cooking advice, as well as some new recipes: Washington Post food blogger Kim O'Donnel. In the past week, I have made her pumpkin pancake and onion tart recipes, much to my delight. Spicy sweet potato soup is up next. Meatless Mondays are especially fantastic. My discovery happily coincides with my dedication to cooking more. Yum.

By the way, I tried, I really did, to adapt to soaking, cooking, and reheating dried beans, but all it did was force me into boring and less-healthy eating patterns. Using dried beans takes a fair amount of time and forethought, and the beans I do cook just end up going bad in the fridge before I can finish them. So I'm going back to canned. Sorry, environment. Sorry, wallet. Actually, maybe not. How much does it cost to fire up three gas range burners for an hour? Perhaps cans really are the better choice...

Did you catch it?

Last week, Jon Stewart told Daily Show guest Bill Kristol that he would have voted for McCain if he had been the Republican nominee in 2000. He didn't elaborate on why. I just find that interesting, that he would have preferred McCain over Gore. Maybe that's why Jon Stewart seems to be especially frustrated with this race. He was really excited and hopeful when McCain had just won the nomination and Obama and Clinton were still duking it out, but obviously McCain has let him down. I don't blame him. McCain was actually really funny on Saturday Night Live last night (so was Ben Affleck - many thanks to him for making fun of Keith Olbermann, who is just as obnoxious and rabid as Bill O'Reilly), and he gave us a glimpse of the charismatic and respectable politician he used to be. I would never vote for McCain, but I value so dearly the back-and-forth of a true policy debate that I'm saddened by the low tactics that McCain and a number of other Republicans have used this year.

Speaking of which, I happened to be up at 2am and heard an interview on the BBC with Oliver Stone, who directed "W". Stone is a hardcore Democrat, but it's so interesting to hear him talk about President Bush as a human being and a pathetic but lovable protagonist in this tragic Shakespearean-esque run of a presidency. I haven't yet seen the movie, but I'm looking forward to it, not because I want to see the man ridiculed on the big screen, but because I want to get to know him beyond his role as the leader of the free world. So many people attack Bush on a personal level, equating his failed policies and skewed world vision with his worth as a person. He's doing what he truly thinks is right, and his failings as a president come from tragic personal flaws, which we all have and which we all fight with every day. It was wrong for the Republican party to put up for election such an unqualified candidate, and it was wrong for the American people to fall for the ruse. I still maintain that if Bush were just some guy who still owned a baseball team and paraded around as the President's son, we'd love him the way we love our favorite team mascot. The same goes for Sarah Palin, really. I hope that after January 20th, 2009, both the Bush family and the Palin family go back home, take care of their families, and learn the value of community organizing. Their time on the national stage is drawing nigh.

A music endorsement and some DC randomness

Last Friday I went to Solly's on 11th and U St to check out Read Underwater, a one-man band who also happens to be my friend Andy. I've seen him play before, but Solly's is a much more intimate space than previous places he has played. Either he played some new songs or the old ones sounded new. In any case, go to Solly's for some cool local talent, and check out Read Underwater's music as well. The music is kind of like Radiohead, and Andy does some amazing things with all the pedals and knobs that somehow record and play back loops over each other. Andy also has great stage presence, so he really feels like everyone's friend while he's performing.

Regarding other DC randomness, tonight I enjoyed the sights and sounds of the annual High Heel Race. It's basically a bunch of drag queens in high heels and costumes parading up and down 17th Street, then racing two blocks in those high heels. In 45-degree weather. Fantastic. It always happens the Tuesday before Halloween, so mark your calendars for next year. It's no Halloween parade in Boys Town in Chicago, but still a good time. DC feels a little bit more like home.

Oh yeah. I also saw Donald Rumsfeld walking down the street last week. It was definitely him. I looked around to see if anyone else noticed it was him, but none of the rush-hour faces showed any sign of recognition. I felt like I was in LA, getting star-struck at the sight of some actor brunching at a local cafe. My first political sighting. Now I'm definitely a DC resident now.

In defense of this city

I have loved Washington DC since I came here during a class trip when I was 16 years old. It was my first taste of big-city living in 2001, and I appreciate it even more now after living in Chicago for 3 years. People think DC is just politicians, but if you don't work in politics, it doesn't feel any different than any other city. Except that Congress must approve any changes in District laws and the WaPost covers national politics and national issues much more visibly than local stories. I'm finding it hard to generalize the DC population, which is a good thing. In any case, amid the calls from politicians to "change Washington", what they really mean is "change the national government" because DC, as a city, is doing a pretty good job these days. Read this article by the former Editor-in-Chief of the Washington Post. When I moved here, I gave myself 5 years before deciding where to go next. I've only been here 3 months, but I'm starting to think it might become a much longer gig.

Another bar review

Bourbon on 18th Street has $3 draft (we're talking Bells, Abita, Allagash, and others) and supposedly some good bourbon happy hour specials, they play Portishead in the bar, and they have homemade veggie, ostrich, bison, or crab cake burgers with smoked gouda and bourbon BBQ sauce, waffle, curly, or shoestring fries, bourbon baked beans or sweet potato chips, all at very reasonable prices. Yum. (Although the veggie burger could use some rice, barley, or beans to give it some more structure.) A neighborhood bar for foodies.

They have another location in Glover Park as well. Go, eat, drink and be merry.

No!

According to Minnesota Governor Tim Pawlenty on Meet the Press this morning, Republican Vice Presidential nominee Sarah Palin thinks that the theory of intelligent design carries the same weight as the theory of evolution and that schools should teach both theories side-by-side. If schools were required to include the theory of intelligent design as part of their curriculum, does this mean that churches would be required to teach the theory of evolution as well? What are the chances of that happening?

For the record, Pawlenty says that he too feels that the theory of intelligent design (to which he ascribes) carries the same weight as the theory of evolution, but that it's a local decision regarding whether schools should teach both.

Down with the pundits, up with the locals

I used to be fascinated by politics. I used to have things to say about running mates and speeches and taking sides on issues. Politics used to be interesting. Now, the national races are all a show and the local races don't get much air or print time. There's nothing I could say that hasn't already been said to death. The pundits killed my will to pontificate. Nothing is a mystery in national politics anymore. New goal: learn more about the local politics, which is where public service matters most. That will take some digging. As a newspaper with national prominence, the Washington Post features mostly national and world news on its main web page. But the shadow senate race is interesting, and I just got my brochure on the local primaries happening September 9th, so there's much to learn. So the Local button on the WaPo website will be getting more of a workout, and there are surely plenty of locally focused websites out there, catching the news the mainstream media miss. In a town where people mostly pay attention to only the Capitol Hill gang, where DC residents pay taxes but have no real national representation (even our license plates proclaim that conundrum), local politics couldn't be more important. The pundits have yet to beat that dead horse.

Here's what I have learned so far: in local races, some younger people, inspired mostly by the Obama campaign, have started to run for seats in the D.C. Democratic State Committee. But they're being hampered by old school pols who don't want to let new faces in. They complain that the newcomers don't even know which ward represents them (oops, I don't know that either...). After that story was published, D.C. Democratic Party spokesperson David Meadows responded with this letter to the editor. It will be interesting to follow this story and other local races, both Democrats and Republicans. U.S. Congresswoman Eleanor Holmes Norton appears occasionally on the Colbert Report, and she's pushing hard for D.C. voting rights, but the D.C. Democratic party's push on the national party platform is at odds with the D.C. Green party's push for statehood. So that will be an interesting fight as well. Stay tuned for more.

Because you can

Think about a time when you were really sick. Not just the sniffles, but a time when you just didn't think you could get out of bed. Now imagine having to get in your car or on the bus or train and go somewhere, feeling so sick. Cancer patients often feel like that, and they often have to drive or take public transportation to the doctor for chemotherapy. How much does that suck?

If you have a car or access to a car (zip cars, perhaps?), volunteer your time and drive a cancer patient to his or her doctor's appointment. There are lots of other ways to help. Learn about how to volunteer to help cancer patients here . Someday you or someone you know may have cancer, and you'd want a kind stranger to be there for you.

Insect Appreciation Day

One of the fun little discoveries of our new apartment was that ants paraded across the hardwood floor in the living room, carrying stray pieces of cat litter and depositing them under the rug. Not sure from where the ants were coming into the building, but they seemed to find the corner of the window to be an adequate escape route. We didn't use bug spray on the ants, choosing instead to be more vigilant about cleaning up the cat litter or smooshing them with our fingers.

I noticed lately that the ants were mostly gone. I also realized that small, nearly invisible spider webs started to collect in the corner of the window and in the bathroom door jamb. Inside the webs are piles of balled-up ant carcasses. A little gross, but also pretty cool to know that the daddy long-legs chilling in the corner is taking care of business. It's always been my policy to not kill spiders unless they're giant and hairy and about to climb on my head (which, thankfully, has yet to happen), but now I'm even more appreciative of these eight-legged predators. Which just goes to show you that letting nature do its thing is far better than creating an artificially sterile home.

Oh yeah, note to self: don't look up info about spiders before going to bed, especially if the web site has photos. Yeesh.

Random thoughts about city living

Seven years ago, the last time I lived in DC, I bought a book of bike ride routes in and around the DC area. I tried a few of them out at the time, which made for some excellent sight-seeing, and better yet, a free workout. Last Sunday, I took my bike out to Occoquan, Virginia, to try out another ride. This attempt was not such a success. They should really mention when the first three miles are intensely uphill, and when the route goes along a windy country road. I gave up after a few miles, rode along the river in the regional park, then came back and walked around Historic Occoquan. Regardless, it filled my need to get out of the city and have a small adventure. Next time, I will drive the bike route before riding it, just to be sure.

I was in an icky mood coming home from the gym last night, til I stepped off the bus and heard a random blues band playing in the park for National Night Out. Lots of people came out to enjoy the muggy evening, kids drew on the sidewalk with chalk and blew bubbles, couples danced, people talked and hung out until late. Even the cops were having a good time. Lots of different kinds of people, all enjoying the same neighborhood perks. That's why I love the city.

Marx Cafe puts nutmeg in their smooth, creamy hummus. It changed my life. Seriously. Apparently someone who works at the Marx Cafe is petitioning to run as a Libertarian for the shadow senate seat for DC. His platform includes actually going onto the floor of the senate, which apparently the shadow senators cannot do because they're not actually recognized by the U.S. Senate. If elected, he will also hug the President of the United States. I find it wholly ironic that he is both a Marx Cafe employee (Marx being the symbol of Communism - the cafe's full name includes the words "revolutionary cuisine") and a Libertarian, which is maybe rather opposite to Communism, but hey, whatever. I support anyone who wants to run for public office. Plus I really love it that he would hug the President.

Lost interest

Funny how you can be so fascinated by and enamored of something until it becomes a part of your life, and then you just lose interest. Before I moved to DC, I watched SO much West Wing that I started to think (er, wish?) it was my life. Not that I ever expected my life to be like that once I moved to DC, but the subject matter made me drool with excitement. Now, politics is everywhere, the presidential race is in full force, and I'm SO over it. Politics is not the fast-moving, complicated stuff of television shows. It's ridiculous and overly calculated and mostly just a media blitz. Once in a while, someone nasty gets his or her comeuppance and we all cheer, but then the tides turn back to ridiculousness. Everyone has something to say, or nothing to say (but they say it anyway) and it all gets overdone, like the amazing potato chips you can't get enough of until suddenly you've eaten one chip too many and you just feel salty and greasy and fat. Maybe watching The West Wing taught me too much about politics, and now I'm just suspicious of everyones' intentions. That doesn't mean I think they're up to no good, I just think it's all a show, aiming to the lowest common denominator who might take interest or hear one word and swing the other direction. I'm over it.

Maybe the Olympics will take center stage for a while and people will forget about the ridiculousness of the race, the it's-about-time-we-caught-him Ted Stevens scandal, the appalling conclusion of the attorney general's office investigation, all which perhaps signal the end of an era in which ridiculousness reigned supreme. Let's stand agog at the fantastic feats of strength and endurance of worldwide top-notch athleticism, which we hope won't be ruined by pollution or the ridiculousness of another country's attempts to control the free exchange of information and culture. Maybe August will be like a weird dream, which we eventually awaken from, relieved to find that life is somewhat more manageable than the awful circumstances our psyches feared would take over.

Quo vadis?

Something happened up there on the mountain. I'm pretty sure that's when it happened. I looked down over the valley and realized that the goal that was riding top rung for the last 10 years of my life could finally be scratched off. Which then begged the question: what now? Quo Vadis? That's when I realized that I could start filling my life with all the things I had always wanted to do, but before couldn't somehow gather the mental energy for. My new motto: do what makes the better story.

It helped that I had 18 other friends to share the experience with. I tried to recreate the feeling of the experience again this weekend. I wore all the same clothes, took a much smaller pack perfect for day trips, put on the same game face, and readied the engines. But of course it was different. The mountain was different, much smaller, with no pines or rhododendrons. The people were all strangers, at different places in life, with different goals for the climb. The climb was still challenging, much farther than I had ever gone in one day, and it was lovely to get outside, learn some new bird calls and plant IDs. But there's definitely nothing like spending three rustic days with close friends, people who were all experiencing the same things at the same time. It was bonding like no other.

That hike was almost three months ago, and I'm still in post-party let-down phase from it. Luckily, there are still a number of us in this new city, all sharing different sides of the same adventure. Perhaps each year we will come back together for a recap, to compare notes and recenter. I never valued friendship so much when I was growing up, content to mostly do my own thing and tag along with others when I could. But something on that mountain made me yearn for the constant company of others. Not just strangers on a path along a wooded ridge line, but people who feel like a part of you, whose presence fills your world and whose absence pains you dearly. It's not enough to simply be content with your own life, if you have no one else to share it with.

Cynicism and the city

Today, I saw Al Gore deliver his speech about climate change and energy and really so much more. I sat very very close to the podium, so I could see Gore clearly as he spoke. He's such a seasoned presenter that he didn't even appear to be using the teleprompter, probably a skill honed during his Inconvenient Truth days. Hip hop star will.i.am sat beside the podium, wearing his coat, hat, and sunglasses indoors, even though it was about 93 degrees outside. He hardly clapped or smiled or even looked awake the whole time. Gore was inspiring, and at the end of his speech, "Beautiful Day" by U2 played in the hall and everyone clapped and glowed and gushed about this exciting time.

Yeah, it was pretty cool. Except NPR mentioned three times during my morning commute that Gore would be issuing this challenge to the country, so the surprise was already spoiled for me. And aside from that, Gore didn't really say anything new to this auditorium full of people who already know the issues and already agree with him. He didn't outline his plan of action for how to accomplish this incredibly difficult feat of switching all of the U.S.-produced electricity to carbon-free, clean, renewable sources in 10 years. He didn't vow to take any specific actions, and didn't tell people what to do, except go to his website. It was all just a big publicity stunt, a chance to grab some headlines and some airtime to promote his cause, to excite people about the possibilities of a new world with new energy sources, to inspire people to donate or otherwise get involved. Four weeks in Washington, and I'm already cynical.

Which is not to say that disagree with Gore's intentions. Knowing what little I do about energy and the electrical grid in this country, I don't think it's feasible to expect such a switch in 10 years. But, I've been living my life with the motto that if you do what you've always done, you'll get what you've always gotten, and so I shall think the same for the country. After reading "Earth: The Sequel" by Fred Krupp and Miriam Horn, I know the technology and the scientific will are out there, and all we need are political will and lots of dollars to make these things happen. I don't think Al Gore is a fool, I think he's a dreamer with the power to make things happen. Today may have just been a press conference and pep rally, but perhaps it's the beginning, not the end, of things we hope for.

It's like he said my name

I was listening to This American Life on NPR a while ago, and Ira Glass was talking about the time he was watching The O.C. and they mentioned This American Life. Apparently, a guy was sitting in his dorm room, talking to his girlfriend on the phone (oh yeah, sorry, I don't know names because I have never watched even one minute of The O.C.), and the girlfriend overheard through the phone another female talking in the dorm room. The guy told her he was listening to This American Life. The girlfriend said, "This American Life? Isn't that the show where yuppie hipsters talk about how amazing ordinary people are?" Or something to that effect. Ira Glass played the clip, after which he exclaimed, It's like they said my name! It's like a fictional character on television said my name!

I had my own such moment the other day. In case you didn't know, I'm a bit of a Joel Achenbach fan (see the link to his blog on the right side of the page). The bus stop I use for work is one block away from the Washington Post. Now that I live and work in D.C., I dream of running into him on the street. Yes, I'm a huge nerd because I idolize a science journalist who has written columns for National Geographic and blogs about science and politics (among other things) on the WaPo website. I'm sure he has no idea who I am, but if he were to put my blog on his blog roll, I think my head would explode. He's also a rather amusing and insightful writer, so if he were closer to my age and not married with kids, I think I'd be in love. Anyway, the other day, he blogged this post: A Planet of Corn, in which he admits that his one journalistic obsession is Ag Policy. The post coincided with his article in the Post about the USDA's decision to allow farmers participating in the Conservation Reserve Program in parts of the recently flooded Midwest to start grazing their cattle on land previously set aside for conservation. My work these days is Ag Policy and land conservation and corn for carbon sequestration and ethanol, and so I had a "He said my name" kind of moment. Not that I had anything at all to do with anything in that article, it's just cool when someone you admire uses some of your personal key words.

Tour de France 2008

Today was the start of Tour de France 2008. The sport has been plagued by doping scandals for years, and people have been losing interest in the race because it seems to be business as usual. But this year, Team Garmin/Chipotle H3O is changing things. Originally called Team Slipstream/Chipotle, this team is operating on a transparent level, vowing to win the race without any performance-enhancing substances. The riders are all tested many times a week year-round, and guests like a writer from Outside magazine are invited into the hotel rooms, testing rooms, meetings, and the like. And so far, so good. Rider David Millar is in 11th place after the first stage, with nine team members in the top 100. The team as a whole is in 4th place, and Trent Lowe is fourth in the list of best riders under age 25.

So perhaps this year will be different. I'm going to follow the race this year, cheering on Team Garmin/Chipotle the whole time. Perhaps the Tour de France can regain its standing as an honorable sport, free of the performance-enhancing substances that athletes have come to accept as fair play. Sports are best when everyone starts from the same level playing field because it encourages inspirational feats of strength and endurance.

Go Team Garmin/Chipotle!!

Issues from a new home base

I'm now in the nation's capital, taking on a new role as Environmental Professional. News of the court's overturn of the DC handgun ban broke during my first week here, but achieving Internet connectedness at home was elusive. So although I itched to throw in my two cents while the story was fresh, alas, it's now old news. But here's my thought anyway: I'm torn on the "right to bear arms" because so many people not fit to own guns purchase them anyway, often with bad outcomes. But the same is true of car ownership, home ownership, and even of parenting. As many have said, make gun ownership on par with car driving privileges. Require training classes, licenses and insurance for each state, and registration, all renewable for law abiders and revocable for law breakers. True, guns are used for one purpose only, and a very negative one at that, but once people are given the right to use them, it's hard to take that away.

Instead of worrying about the guns, we should be worrying about the people using them. After all, guns don't kill people. People kill people. Put more police on the street to enforce gun laws and prevent crimes. Put more qualified teachers in schools, arm them with learning tools and technology, and give them ample support to do their jobs. Put more social workers in communities, pay them better, and give them resources to help those in need. Offer more scholarships and job training so that kids know that they have more opportunities to survive, and indeed thrive, as a productive member of society, rather than turning to the gangs they think will protect them. We talk about all these things in the rebuilding of communities around the world, and yet we still ignore our communities in this country. If we have fewer people turning to crime and more people being sent to schools and jobs, the gun law quandary becomes moot. Empower people with words and ideas, technology and tools.

Speaking of which, I'm reading "Earth: The Sequel" by Fred Krupp and Miriam Horn. It's about the technologies that are going to bring about a new way of powering our world. Although it's a little too wonky at times (sorry, I just can't picture how a coal gasification system works, no matter how clearly you explain it) it's fascinating and inspiring to read about the amazing mind- and man-power that is developing ways to make solar, wind, tidal and wave energy, methane from animal waste, and biofuels made from sugar cane, perennial grasses, and even algae, economically competitive with petroleum, natural gas, and coal. All they need is the capital to make it happen. It makes me wish I was in a place financially to start a venture capital company to fund these projects.

The newest green-collar job

Farming is hard work, but it's one of the most important sectors in the world. No farms = no food. Period. Food production is in great danger these days, as climate change affects traditionally understood farming conditions and the increasing demand for biofuels has led to less spinach and melons to make room for fields of corn and soybeans. The current push to reduce the illegal immigrant population has left many fields full of fresh soil or produce and no one to actually do the planting and harvesting. Good thing Grist is on top of things, with some really interesting solutions for the farm worker shortage. Check them out here and here. I really like the Farm for America idea. There are a number of smaller opportunities for people to spend time working on farms, but a strongly funded program with metrics for success and avenues for professional development could really draw young people back to the land and perhaps even provide immigrants with the opportunity to get better or more consistent wages, formalized training, and possibly American citizenship, if they commit to such a program.

Classic Memorial Day

This summer is starting out to be quite an adventure. Yesterday began with a +3-mile hike and picnic along the Eno River, where we saw various sizes of turtles sunning themselves on logs and rocks, lizards scampering up trees, and water snakes slithering through the river grasses. The snakes swam up to the water's edge, mouth open, checking us out as much as we were checking them out. Then, we went swimming in the quarry, where we stepped barefooted, gingerly over the red clay and dry pine needle-covered slopes to jump into the cool green water. The first jump in smelled like silty freshwater lake and uncertainty of what lay below the surface, and the longer we stayed in the water, the longer it smelled of the thrill of kids jumping off the ledge through the trees and of warm summer days when you don't have to be anywhere at any time. Hiking back to the car in our wet swimsuits and shorts (which gradually looked more and more like we had incontinence issues) sealed the summer in. The grand finale was a BBQ, the last hurrah at one of the party houses we came to know and love. Many of us are moving on to different parts of the same big city, and others are going to places further afield, and the reality of this split is starting to sink in. We've spent two years together, laughing and complaining over familiar beers and randomized music play lists. So the national Memorial Day may be about honoring fallen soldiers, but for us, yesterday was about honoring our journey together thus far.

Still on the mountain

I have that feeling these days, a lingering wish to be back on the mountain. It happens often - anytime I've spent more than a day living the rustic lifestyle. A few weeks ago, some friends and I hiked 5 miles up Mount LeConte in eastern Tennessee. We left on a Monday morning, backpack straps buckled and tightened, water bottles and hydration packs filled, coffee and toast warming our bellies. The trail we took was the steepest one up the mountain, a daunting task, but with the help of trail mix, energy bars, and a number of pit stops and photo opportunities, we all arrived at the lodge in just over 3 hours. One of the Mount LeConte lodge staffers showed us to our cabins, which had real beds and bunk beds with pillows, sheets and wool blankets, heaters in each room, and a big porch with rocking chairs. Restrooms were either flush toilets accessible only with the keys hanging in each cabin or pit toilets, which were always unlocked. Two pumps delivered cold filtered water and a hot water tap by the lodge filled our buckets for washing up. Thin, smoky coffee and hot cocoa were being served all day. Breakfast and dinner were served hot in the dining hall, family style, and lunch was sandwiches, trail mix, and cookies, served in a paper bag. During the day on Tuesday, we hiked, napped, played games, read, anything to fill the time and take in the fresh air.


We rose early to watch the sun rise from one peak, then hiked after dinner to watch it set from another peak, dipping below the mountaintops in spectacular color and drama. Of course, we applauded, another feat of nature successfully completed.

Camping out always makes me feel like this, because it's simple living at its best. Each summer for 6 years, I spent two weeks at Girl Scout camp in Wisconsin, where we slept on cots in platform tents. The summer before my senior year of high school, some friends and I spent a week on Manitou Island in Michigan, where we slept in tents, cooked meals in our dutch oven, and bathed in the lake. During my sophomore year in college, I backpacked for a weekend in the Ozarks, a trek made more difficult by hay fever and a lack of proper hiking footwear. No matter the length of the trip or challenge of survival, it's still the same feeling. The only time you have to worry about is breakfast time, lunch time, dinner time, and swim time. Your clothing options consist only of what's clean or dry, but usually not both, and by the end, usually neither. And nothing matches, so don't even try. The food is hearty, full of starches and sugars, often a little burnt, but always the best you've ever tasted. Your body is tired in that I'm-really-living kind of way, your hair smells like campfire smoke and lake (or well) water, and there's a constant layer of sunscreen and dirt on your skin. By the end of the trip, you're a little sunburned, the mosquitoes and flies have eaten you up, and you've scraped your shin or shoulder on a rock or branch. But you don't have to worry about bringing your wallet, cell phone, and keys with you everywhere. The constant drone of TVs and radios, road noise, and echoes from loud neighbors is gone. None of the trappings of civilized society even exist out there. It's just you and the wind, baby.

And when you come home, life is just too comfortable. Too easy. You can get in your car and drive anywhere, instead of hiking two miles down the ridgeline. Your bed is too soft, your coffee too gourmet, your home too secure and sheltered from the elements. No one is there to serve you grits, eggs, pancakes, juice, family-style. You're not sharing a space with 5 other people. Nothing on TV is nearly as interesting as the landscape over the valley you stared at for an hour. Life is too easy and too lonely after you come down from the mountain. It's much better when you're sipping from flasks, wrapped in fleece and flannel, playing card games and joking about who in the group you'd eat first if stranded without food. It's an intimate experience where you're allowed to be pensive and philosophical, and you can't help but throw your arms around your friends at any given moment because personal space means nothing when you're all equally dirty and tired and completely satisfied with life in that very moment.

So yeah, even though I'm facing an exciting move to a new city and a meaningful new job, most days, I'd rather still be on the mountain. Maybe it's the early human in me, longing for a more communal life that's closer to nature. In the meantime, day hikes and longer camping trips will have to suffice.

Not-so-divergent pathways

My brother and I have the same birthday, but we're not twins. In fact, growing up, we were quite different. I was the serious kid who spent a lot of time in my room, reading books and listening to the radio. My brother spent more time getting and keeping my parents' attention by flexing his creative muscle with hands-on projects. We often played together when we were younger, saving our stuffed animals from tragedy and molding homemade play-dough. As we got older, we seemed to be on very different career paths. My brother, an extremely talented trombone and tuba player, looked forward to a promising career in music education, while I hoped to apply my love of science and writing to a career in environmental journalism.

A lot has happened since high school. Our budding talents are still being put to use, but now we're in the same industry. My brother always loved to work with his hands, creating public artwork strung between the kitchen table and counter tops and mixing his own pretzel dips. Now, he's the head pastry chef at a popular Chicago brunch spot. As a teenager, I dreamed of owning a farm with horses, and I marveled at the fact that we ate cherry tomatoes and broccoli from our little suburban garden plot. Now, I'll be researching economic issues related to agriculture and environmentally sensitive farming practices.

So yes, my brother and I are now employed in the food sector. But really, what makes people happier than good food enjoyed with family and friends and contributing to community development? Guess we're not so different after all.

Grad school makes you a huge nerd

Never have I laughed so much at a bunch of bars and pie charts. Who knew graphs were so hilarious?

http://graphjam.com

Evolution of the Unwinding

I'm sitting in the airport on my way home from Las Vegas. Yes, Vegas, home of everything ridiculous and unnecessary. Here, it is just too flashy and noisy and expensive, and the people are all drunk and annoying and badly dressed. The streets would feel huge except for the fact that the buildings are even huger. I was here for a conference, though I didn't go to many sessions because I've been in the process of unwinding. On Monday, I finished and submitted the very last paper of my graduate school career, and then I promptly sat by the pool and drank an overpriced beer from a plastic bottle and foolishly minorly sunburned my skin. Yesterday I hiked through Sloan Canyon, which was fantastic until the tour guide tried to blame climate change solely on the sun. It took a while to let that one slide. This was definitely a different world, which made me laugh and groan at the same time.

Before this Vegas trip, I was in Washington DC with the black-suited graduate student cohorts who are all applying for the same jobs with the federal government. I ate Thai food with some new people, relearned the Metro system, and daydreamed about my new professional endeavors.

So among all this jet-setting, it still hasn't hit me that I'm done with school. Maybe some time in the woods will help me get it all into perspective. That's next week. My cat will surely be sore at me for leaving her all alone for days at a time, except for the very kind folks who agreed to look after her. Fear not, dear kitty. In a couple of weeks, all we will do is sit on the couch and watch The West Wing reruns and try to put some space between what was and what will be.

It's over already?

Suddenly, the end of grad school is nigh. Last weekend, we celebrated the completion of our masters project presentations, the one thing many of us had been dreading for two years. When I watched those presentations from my admitted-student seat two years ago, I found it hard to believe that I would ever know enough about anything to stand up and talk for 15 minutes about it. And now I've done it and it's over - I knew enough to pick a project that was challenging but still within my capabilities. I may never read it again, knowing that it could have been so much more, but that's the beauty of it. Seeing what things could be is much better than knowing you've done absolutely everything possible.

So we've been celebrating for a week now, while still working toward the final draft due date and wrapping up group projects and starting 15-page papers that are due in two weeks. The thing about grad school is that if you can't wildly procrastinate, then pull something of quality together quickly, you'll never make it. If you can't complain for hours on end about how much work you have to do, then stay out way too late on a Saturday night to be productive the next morning, you're not really living the grad student life.

It took me a while, but now that I'm ready to graduate, I think I've fully gotten the hang of this grad student life. Friday afternoon kegs, with 3 or 5 or 8 dogs darting between legs. Walking into the computer lab at any hour of the day and seeing the same friendly faces frowning at maps or 20-page PDFs for class. Parties that feel alternately like prom and freshman year frat parties. Bluegrass music, caber tossing, tug-of-war, and the pig that's been roasting in the ground since the night before. Bocce ball and barbecue in the apartment complex yard. And now it's almost over. In the real world, you don't often have Halloween parties in the forest, beer at your computer on a Friday afternoon, or hour-long breaks in the courtyard at 3pm. In the real world, there aren't many opportunities to spend a day on the farm, unless you own that farm.

Grad school isn't all parties, although that's what we'll remember. We'll probably all soon forget the econ problem set that we just couldn't figure out without conferring with classmates. We'll forget the policy memos and statistical models based on our professor's made-up data. The reading reviews will be out of our minds the moment we submit them through Blackboard. That stuff is all practice for the real world. But one thing is for sure - no matter now silly we see each other act on the weekends, no matter how studious our cohorts may be on a Wednesday before a big project is due, there is no doubt in my mind that this group of people will go out and change the world. We've joked that we'll just blow off the real world and live in a commune together, but the truth is that we'd all be miserable with that life. We're not here to while away the hours at some cubicle in some office building, filing TPS reports. Our goals are much bigger, our hopes are endless. We see the myriad social, environmental, and economic challenges that are just beginning to impact our lives. On New Years Eve, a friend gave a short but inspiring toast: here's to a really great year, not just for us, but for the world. Coming into a presidential election with a chance for real change, the spring green to the past eight years of frigid winter, there couldn't be a better time to unleash this flock of great minds and greater energy on the world.

I feel so lucky to be here among them. I made the right choice to come here, to take on big debt in exchange for the chance to take on something much bigger and better than what I could have imagined. I learned from some amazing people, professors and friends alike, and I wouldn't have done anything different. Now, many of us will descend on Washington, DC, or Boston, or San Francisco, or even somewhere in North Carolina. I hope that even with our families and jobs and new opportunities, we'll still keep our little community alive - our nation-wide commune full of organic gardens, musical compositions, and the variety of talents we'll have time to pursue again.

For the first time in my life, I'm not ready to leave this all behind. I'm not tired of the people, disenchanted with my work, or bored with my setting. I'm happy here with my crew and my task. Indeed, seeing what things could be is much better than knowing you've done absolutely everything possible. I know I'm going forth into something new that draws on what I've had here, and that is really much better.

Endorsement

Not that I have the power to sway anyone's vote, but because this is an important election year, I should state for the record that I am a strong Barack Obama supporter. I have been since he was elected a U.S. Senator, and since he spoke at my friend's graduation in June 2006, and since he started appearing on every talk show and answering questions in just the right way. For a while, I hoped he would lose the nomination to Hillary and come back to run again in 4 or 8 years, but since Hill and Bill have been pulling some tom-foolery with the media, I want Obama to whoop some Clinton booty. I was too young to really know much about politics when Bill Clinton was in office, but if the Clintons pulled the same kind of shenanigans back then, well, maybe what their enemies say about them is warranted.

On New Years Eve, my friend led a toast with an uplifting and hopeful wish for a truly great year, not just for us, but for the world. It was inspiring, and we needed it. Obama can bring it.

I've said it before and I'll say it again: Vote. No matter who you vote for, please use the voice that this country has given you the opportunity to use. Give your input about your future. In the past 8 years, our country has fallen apart, partly due to apathy. Be part of the effort to bring it back together.

Ah, Spring

Today is a Sonic Sunday. In college, on days like this when the sun was warm and the air was spring-like, we would pile into the car, go to Sonic and get cherry limeades, cherry vanilla cokes, and the likes, and drive around with the windows down, listening to music and trying to forget about winter. Alas, there's no Sonic around here and too much work to do, but I did listen to my Spanish-language Ricky Martin CD on my way over to Target to pick up a few things, and I bought a Vitamin Water instead.

In the Midwest, days like this so early in the year are flukes. Another snowstorm is just around the corner. But down South, spring is surely on its way. The grass is still brown and the trees are mostly bare, but the perennials are starting to poke their leaves up and some of the trees already have fuzzy buds. So there's hope.

So wrong

Last night, my friends served Krispy Kreme bread pudding. It's like regular bread pudding, except made with Krispy Kreme donuts and chocolate chips. When it's warm, it's fantastic in small quantities. And I don't even like Krispy Kreme donuts. I've never done crack, but I would imagine that if crack gave you heartburn, it would be the exact equivalent of this dish. It's even better when you wash it down with a gulp of Coors Light from a keg.

I have now hit rock bottom. If I hadn't worked out the past 4 days, I would be SO ashamed. Never again will I sink to such lows. It was fun while it lasted. And now, the gym in T minus 8 hours.

Finally, someone who understands my plight

toothpastefordinner.com

...then you've made your life contingent on rivers

I just finished reading River Horse, A Voyage Across America by William Least Heat-Moon. It's the true story of his trip across the United States via river, but there are such poetic moments that it's hard to believe it's real. The author lives in the town where I went to college, and I share his appreciation of the lower Missouri River. Here are some great quotes, mostly from the latter half of the book, because that's when I started taking note of the words. I'll have to go back and read the first half again.

p. 235: "I said, If nature undoes immediately what we work years to do, then we're not doing it right."
p. 345: (quoting Pilotis) "'That river isn't about people - it's too primeval. When I see an ocean, I don't see time, but on the Missouri, I see time everywhere, along the eroded banks, down the shallow bottoms in those worn and rounded stones, even in the current. Flow and erosion, flow and erosion. The valley is the face of a clock, and the hour hand's the moving river, always showing how our days are ebbing, getting washed downstream. Civilization will run out long before the sun burns up and turns rivers back into planetary gases.' 'And later: Stand on the water's edge and see how easy it is to imagine a valley before you existed - then imagine it in a time when you're long gone. That river scours existence, pulls solidities loose and flushes them away. To it, our days are no more than cottonwood fluff. Our little selfish ploys and conceited aspirations are just so much sediment. People are about cleverness. A river's about continuance. We talk about dams and wing-dikes, but we don't need to fret about that Missouri. It's not endangered - we are. When I'm out on the water, I don't worry about it. I worry about me. I'm just too small for that river.'"
p. 355: "That night the Photographer reminded me of a famous line from Aldo Leopold, author of the celebrated book A Sand County Almanac: 'One of the penalties of an ecological education is that one lives alone in a world of wounds.' But that was two generations ago, and now the world is not so lonely for those who act on behalf of our planet."
p. 433: (quoting Pilotis) "Why do you think our passage must be continual travail? You've got to adjust to going downhill. Quit uprivering. Just follow the drainage down."
p. 453: (quoting a woman in a bar) "In full certainty, she said, 'When a man takes to the road, even if it's a river, he's running away, but when a woman takes off, she's looking for something.'"
p. 459: "Pessimism and negativism are cankers in the soul of long-distance voyagers, and continuance of journeys owes about as much to blind faith as realistic assessment - at least, that is my interpretation, drawn from reading many travelers' accounts, including those of Columbus."
p. 462: (a discussion between the author and Pilotis) P: "Does the ease of downstreaming make you second-guess yourself about refusing to take a jet boat up the River of No Return so you could have cooperated with the flow of the Missouri for halfway across the continent?" WLH-M: "'No, I said, because those two rivers forced us to earn passage - I think it's like rock climbing where the point is to go a difficult way, otherwise ascent is almost meaningless - the object isn't just to get to the top but to get there in such a way you learn the nature of the mountain.'... 'Four-lane highways are for passing, not passage.'"
p. 474: (quoting Pilotis) "The best human beings can do is borrow a river. We can live in a forest, in the mountains, in the earth, in the grasslands, but not in a river. That's strange for creatures two-thirds water."
p. 491: "On that hundredth night I understood that I had gone and entered a place, and I knew where I'd gone, but where I'd entered I had no idea. When our voyage was only a memory, where would I wash up? Just where is the great delta of old river travelers? When the journey is done, quo vadis? That's a question adventurers leave out of their accounts..."
p. 492: (the author remembering a conversation between him and his ex-wife) "The winter before, I had heard, 'Are you going to trade a boat trip for our marriage?' an impossible question for me since to walk away from the river, once the idea of crossing took hold of me, was to walk away from a long dream, a deep aspiration. The voyage was not more significant than the marriage because it had become one pillar of it - or, at least, one pillar of my life. Either way, I believed a long rivering necessary to my continuance as a man. To the question I said, If I fail even to try the trip I won't be worth being married to. And I heard, 'Then you've made your life contingent on rivers.' To that, I could say nothing."

Female leadership

If Hillary Clinton becomes our next president, would Nancy Pelosi or Barbara Boxer run in the future?

Choose Your Candidate

I just took the Washington Post Choose Your Candidate Quiz. The questions are organized by topic, and the participant chooses which candidate response they most agree with. The participant doesn't know which candidate gave which response, and they can choose to hide or show the tally by candidate. Some responses are more obviously linked to certain candidates, but half the fun is guessing. I will not divulge who the quiz says my candidate is, but I have a few initial reactions:
1. You can take either the Democrat or the Republican quiz. When I have some free time, I'll take the other quiz. I'm curious to know what it would tell me, or whether it would just frustrate me. However, it would definitely help me brush up on what the other party has to say.
2. The quiz presents positions as talking points, which we all know are mostly BS anyway. It just goes to show you that the content carries less weight than the style of wording in politics. Just because a candidate says things in appealing ways doesn't mean they're more qualified to lead.
3. Does it really matter whether the quiz results align with whom you already support? How many people would change their mind after taking this quiz? Maybe it depends more on how decided you were before or what your experience has been with the candidates.
4. I'm definitely doing more research on the candidates. I know whom I'm voting for, but I also want to know more about all of our potential Presidents.

Stem Cell Breakthrough

Two weeks ago, scientists announced that they discovered a way to create embryonic stem cells from skin cells, without any use of the controversial embryos. If this technique is truly successful and proves to be the huge scientific breakthrough everyone believes it to be, then the stem cell debate is over. It also means that President Bush won.

I must admit, maybe that's okay. True, I joined the throngs of people outraged that Bush would defy scientific reasoning and refuse on moral grounds to support embryonic stem cell research. But being President of the United States is a tough job in which you're called upon to make decisions that will never appease everyone. At the end of the day, you do what you think is right.

Put yourself in his shoes. Try to make a controversial decision between what you feel is right for the country and what others want you to do. (You may think that just because you align with a certain political party that such an issue may never come up, but these days, you just don't know, and what you think you believe may be tested at some point.)

What President Bush did was put his foot down about what he felt was right, forcing the scientific community to find a solution that won't pose a moral dilemma for some people. So scientists did just that. Whether the administration sufficiently supported scientists working on such projects is another story that requires more investigation. But in the long run, if we now have the technology to do stem cell research that will pass the moral test and receive lots of new funding, isn't that what's best for the country?

Thanksgiving delights

This Thanksgiving, I had turkey for dinner. But it wasn't just any turkey. This turkey came from a farm nearby, where the birds were truly free-range, ate grain by the handful and all the bugs they could snatch up, and met their fate in a humane way. I bought this turkey from a farmer I know, whose farmer friend actually raised the turkeys. They were dispatched last Sunday, picked up on Tuesday, and brought to the table on Thursday. The farmer I know sends her children to a local school, which she must pay for, and she raises and sells her own chickens, ducks, and eggs. She and the turkey farmer buy their feed and other supplies from local stores, so my money is supporting local businesses instead of some big conglomerate hundreds of miles away.

Ours was a 10-pounder, lean, and more than enough for three people. We spread olive oil and herbs under the skin and all over the top, and stuffed onions and carrots in the cavity. Although not as tender as a factory-raised bird, the meat was so flavorful and went down well with a dab of cranberry sauce. We even cooked and pureed the giblets, a fine feast for my kitty. Picking the rest of the meat from the bone after dinner was strangely satisfying in a primitive way. It was good to know where my meat came from, even if nothing else on the table was organic or sustainable. I can preach to my family all I want, but only they can can take the step to commit to sustainability. My dad now recycles, and I consider that a big step.

Small realizations

Last night, I went to a meeting of the local chapter of the Association of Environmental Professionals. Following dinner was a presentation about new state rules for stormwater management, a rather technical topic. Not only did I know exactly what they were talking about, I wanted to ask questions. I guess I truly am an environmental professional. Now if only we had some stormwater to manage...

Also, I'm back on coffee. I tried drinking black tea instead, but I'm sorry, tea is just not coffee. And I refuse to feel ashamed for my 1 to 2 cups a day.

The Primaries

As expected, the media are full of political blather about who's ahead, who's going to win, what surprises lie ahead, and the likes. A few points have been made that could change things completely. First of all, polls say that Hillary is ahead, but the participants of those polls are only people who could be reached via land line, thus eliminating anyone with only a cell phone. This means that a large percentage of people between the ages of 18 and 30ish don't have a voice in the polls. Also, Iowa's early primary means that many students registered to vote in Iowa won't be back from winter break in time to vote, leaving them out of a critical decision. But those are the people whose voices matter most, because the next president will really be our president. He or she will have the future of economy, the environment, health care, young injured veterans, foreign relations, and much more, in his or her hands. That's why even the primaries matter so much. Anything could happen. Everyone should vote, even if they think their candidate won't win. The right to vote is like our muscles. You have to exercise your right to vote in order to keep it strong and powerful. Even if you never enter a body-building competition or run a marathon or even lift heavy things, your muscles keep your body working properly. Public participation in choosing our representatives keeps our democratic system healthy and strong. So please, register now and make sure you vote in your primary, even if it looks like the candidates have already been chosen. Use your voice and exercise your political muscles. Send a message to the country about what change you want to see.

The last obstacle removed

My greatest regret since moving to the South is that I have not been able to indulge in the barbecue scene down here. Although I recently decided to eat some meat again, I vowed to remain loyal to locally produced, sustainably raised meat only. Which excludes barbecue, unfortunately.

Until now. Opening November 26th, The Pit in Raleigh will source local, sustainably raised pork and locally grown produce. Oh man, I can't wait.

Finally, the deluge

It's raining. Hard. It's been raining since Wednesday morning, and they say it won't stop til Saturday afternoon. This means less guilt about showering, doing dishes, flushing the toilet. It means we can have a contained fire at the Halloween party this weekend. But still, there's a pumpkin shortage and the corn crops are small, and there are no local apples or pears at the store. This rain, it's probably not a drought-buster by any means, but it helps. It means we'll have water past Christmas, which was an iffy prospect before. But what happens when the taps run dry? Where do we get water when that happens? Let's hope the rain dance works.

Reading cats' minds

So my new kitty Molly has been living with me for a month now, and every day, she amuses me a little more. Today, I learned something new about her. Molly is not just any old domestic medium shorthair, she is some sort of jungle cat obsessed with dead vegetation. Well, really any vegetation in general. I thought it was weird that she likes to sit curled up in my plant by the window, which is on a teetery stand and is usually freshly watered. (If you have a cat, by the way, you can probably see what's coming. Window plant + teetery stand + wet soil = cat jumping out of plant and knocking it over, spilling dirt all over the place.)

But today, I witnessed two things I have never seen a cat do before:
1. She picked up a dead leaf in her mouth and carried it into another room, where she "hid" it under the coffee table. What in the world would a ferocious carnivore want with a dead leaf? I think she has done this before, as I have found dead leaves "hidden" under my desk as well.
2. I was eating a bowl of grapes, pulling them off the clusters of stems. Molly took a stem cluster from the bowl with her paw, picked it up with her mouth, put it on the floor and played very diligently and protectively with it. It's as if she had done so a million times and knew just how to bat, catch, and chew the stems. Where would she learn such a thing? Maybe in her previous life, she was a barn cat at a winery.

No End in Sight

Last night, I saw the movie "No End in Sight," which is about the rebuilding of Iraq from just after the war started until just after the 2006 election, when Donald Rumsfeld resigned. It seemingly makes no judgments about whether the war should have happened, it just examines the immense disaster zone that Iraq has become. It's a poignant movie, and depressing as hell, and we just waked away scratching our heads at how a very small group of people in power in Washington DC could create such a quagmire, despite the effective and honest efforts of so many others on the ground in Iraq. Go see it, if only to inspire you to vote for the very best politicians who have the best chance of making our country (and the world) better for everyone.

Admission

It's been two years since I went ovo-lacto-pescatarian (veg+sustainable eggs/dairy/fish), and to celebrate, I ate a burger and a piece of Italian sausage. ONLY because it was served to me by the farmers who raised those burgers and sausage sustainably on their very own farm. The burger was just okay, but the sausage was sweet heaven. This doesn't mean I'll be chowing on jerky daily or anything, it just means I'll indulge in some sustainably raised meat now and again. I still love my beans.

And no, my stomach did not explode from eating meat after going 2 years without it. It just felt like it would because I ate too much food. Cow is some filling stuff, yo.

The New Year and such

This is the first year ever that I didn't do anything for the Jewish New Year, and the only parts I really miss are the food. Eggy challah bread with honey is divine. Maybe I'll bake some this weekend.
Anyway, a new year always brings new opportunities and new challenges. Our farm group is now official, and we got a grant to pay for some events like a sustainable dinner series and perhaps a speaker. Today I got an email from two different people about the group's involvement in other activities on campus and beyond. Even though the farm workdays weren't my idea, it's so exciting to be a part of something new and engaging. The new students are psyched, which means we'll be able to pass the torch instead of fizzling away at the end of the year. In the meantime, it's still hot out. We're looking forward to 80-degree weather because it's cooler than the 95-degree days we've been having. I'm more used to it now, but I miss my hot coffee in the morning.

That's the opportunity, or at least one of them. Although, like usual, there seem to be more challenges to wince at than opportunities to daydream about. Between my master's project, my economics class, and the calculus I'm still trudging through, I'll just be happy to make it to graduation. People say that God gives you only what you can handle, and even if I don't always really believe that, the idea of it helps me get through the day.

This weekend, we went to the coast and took the long scenic way back. Most of the North Carolina coastal plain is filled with small towns, full of churches but little else. The interesting thing about this state is that unlike in the Midwest, where the faces are all white in the small towns, here, there's probably a mix because of the state's history. I'd be proud of the diversity if there wasn't such an economic status divide among races.

One more thought: shopping for cat food is hard for a vegetarian. I settled on organic kibble and natural (not organic) canned food that at least listed mostly real animal products as the first ingredients. The kibble was the same price as the other stuff, and the cans weren't on sale but not more expensive than most original prices. But still, most of this stuff is just so bad. Is it better to get the fish flavors instead of chicken or beef? I'll have to do more research on this.

News update

A few posts ago, I mentioned that BP was planning to dump more pollution into Lake Michigan. Well, the Chicago Tribune reported on August 24th that BP is changing its plans and vows to find ways to prevent the increase in pollution. Read it here. Let's hope they stick to their promises, both publicly and in actual operation.

Now, it's personal

I just found out that the federal government rates the regional transit development projects a low priority because there still isn't high intensity of development here. Yet. So the question becomes: build transit infrastructure in preparation of the boom we know is coming, or wait til the population influx overwhelms the system and the development is overdue?
There's also something no one is saying officially, but they're certainly keeping it in mind. The federal government won't fund these projects because the money needed is going toward the war instead. So they're waiting it out to see what the new administration will do. In the meantime, local infrastructure all over the country is crumbling or insufficient because of this costly war we're not going to win. This isn't new information, really, but it shows that contrary to what I previously thought, the light rail and improved bus service plans aren't held back because of local politics. They're held back because national politics have hijacked local agendas.

Rain

It finally rained yesterday, for what feels like the first time all summer. Still, we only got about half an inch. The town of Creedmoor, about 20 miles northeast of here, has to pipe in water from a nearby town because its water supply is spitting out sludge. I've never heard of a town just running out of water before, especially not when the rest of the country is drowning. It's crazy. At this point, we're wishing for a hurricane just to bring water to the parched land.

Generation Gap

It has been an eye-opening summer, especially the past few days. Saturday, I watched The Drug Years, a television series on VH1 about drug use in the 20th and 21st centuries in the context of music, pop culture, and politics. I had seen the series before, but I watched because following was The U.S. vs. John Lennon. I fell asleep, but thanks to DVR, I was able to watch it this afternoon, after reading an article about President Bush's driving philosophy during his time in office. There are many many many differences between Bush and John Lennon, but you can tell they both came from the same generation. One might argue that if Bush's father hadn't been a Republican president during the backlash to the "hippie" generation, he'd be more like the rest of us. In any case, I'm still sort of processing the whole thing, but in the meantime, I'll say this: it's incredible how the people who grew up during the biggest revolution of recent history have allowed the country to go in quite the opposite direction.