Ring of Fire

It is difficult to find a better song than "Ring of Fire." Most people identify Johnny Cash with the song, but it was his wife, June, who wrote the song. I like that. Johnny is always seen as "the complicated one" (the man in black) and June as some sort of saving angel. But June had a lot of her own demons. She deserves to be appreciated as her full self, so saith the Ped!

I'm Totally Mainlining Culture

Hello hello hello, via Jezebel:

Alicia Keys is producing a Broadway play called Stick Fly, "a comedy about an affluent black family who come together for a weekend on the posh island of Martha's Vineyard in Massachusetts." She explains: "I'm passionate about this play because it is so beautifully written and portrays Black America in a way that we don't often get to see in entertainment. I know it will touch all audiences, who will find a piece of themselves somewhere inside this house." [Reuters]


I saw this play a couple years ago at the Contemporary American Theater Festival. Ipso facto or something like that, I am totally "in the zone."

I also saw Farragut North, another play that's being produced in Washington, DC, at the same festival (but different year, I think). At that play, I distinguished myself by being the only one who gave it a standing ovation. It wasn't the first time that happened at a play. It's amazing how hard it is to keep standing, once you realize that no one else is, it's just you. But looks like I wasn't the only one who thought the play was aces!

Food: Cucumber Pickles

Nothing says summer like cucumber pickles, ya'll!

The first step to making cucumber pickles is to clear your calendar. This is an undertaking that takes longer than you think.

Second, go back to the person you were six months ago and instruct him/her to start saving old glass jars.

Third, clear off a big counter (or all your counters, if you have a small kitchen).

Third, make sure you have these ingredients (or maybe do this first):

·        Lots of cucumbers

·        A couple yellow onions

·        Cloves of garlic (the more, the merrier, if you ask me)

·        White vinegar

·        Sugar

·        Celery salt

·        Onion salt

·        Garlic salt

·        Regular salt

·        Pepper

·        Paprika (optional)*

Fourth, make the pickling juice: add one cup of sugar to one cup of white vinegar in a small saucepan. Heat until the sugar is absorbed in the vinegar—turn off/remove from heat (no need to simmer or boil).

Fifth, prep the cukes, onion, and garlic: peel and thinly slice the cucumbers into rounds. This is a bit of a pain, but just keep working. Slice the yellow onion in half and cut thin slices the other way (you're looking for slivers of onions)—separate the layers.

Sixth, spice the cukes, onions, and garlic: spread the cucumber rounds, garlic cloves, and yellow onion out on the counter (I guess you'd use about ¼ of an onion per big cucumber, and about 2-3 cloves of garlic per cucumber [less or more of the onion and garlic depending on your tolerance]). Sprinkle everything with a thin—and I mean thin, people!—layer of celery salt, onion salt, garlic salt, regular salt, and pepper. I don't know why you can't add the spices to the liquid directly—something to do with science, probably—but it doesn't work as well as putting them directly onto the ingredients.

Seventh, put the garlic, onion, and cucumbers into storage containers: stuff it all into the jars you have—do not use mason jars or proper pickling jars—it stops the pickling process (ironic, isn't it?). Just use old glass jars. Stuff the cukes, onions, and garlic to the tippy top. Pour the pickling juice (sugar and vinegar) into the jar. Fill the jar about 85% with the pickling juice (you need to allow space for the cucumbers to  give off water, which they will).

Eight, put the jars into your fridge. Clean your counters.

Wait one day.

Eat pickles for as long as they last. They last forever (they're pickles!), but they're so delicious, you'll have a hard time from gobbling them all up. They are slightly sweet, but not overly so. Even if you don't like sweet pickles, you will like these.

I made a big batch about 4 weeks ago and we're just now on our last jar—I've been using these as my salad—easy-peasy for summer!

I remember my mom and dad making these in the summers when I was little. Never doing anything by halves, it was a two-person operation. They would shoo all the kids out of the kitchen and spend a whole afternoon or evening on them. I remember the pungent smell of the vinegar and watching them through the doorway (in my sandals, naturally), working their way around to all the slices of all the ingredients all laid out on our counters. They made a good team. The pickles never lasted long. We loved them!

*Paprika is something I added to just one batch/jar this year, in deference to Beloved's Hungarian ancestry. It was a very good addition.

Book Opinion: Just Kids

I just finished reading Just Kids by Patti Smith. The book is about her coming-of-age through the prism of the symbiotic relationship she shared with Robert Mapplethorpe. I don’t have anything like the same acuity for art that Smith does. But her sense of art--almost as if she is the medium--is mesmerizing to take in, and she writes in a way that's completely accessible.

And it's a ripping good yarn.

Sandals!

From an early age, I've had a thing for shoes. It started—where so many obsessions do—in church. And when I write "church," I mean the Catholic mass, which was the tradition I grew up with. For me, church was long, church was pretty boring (though I did like the ringing of the bells at the consecration), and, when everyone went up for communion, my knees ached from kneeling so long—as did my arms: since they were too short to rest on the back of the bench, I was reaching up.

One fine communion time, I glanced over at all the adults waiting in the communion line. And I noticed that if I tilted my head just so under my arms, I would appear to be praying. In reality, I was taking advantage of the perfect view of all those shoes traipsing up and back. I was fascinated.

My favorite shoes were SANDALS. They were the best. They were the most beautiful, the most graceful, and the most interesting. My birthday is in the summer, and I would always ask for sandals as my birthday present.

"You know, those are pretty hard to run in," my mom would say, every year.

"No they're not," I would answer quickly, confidently.

She was right. They were. Sandals tended to slip on grass. Sandals tended to be tripped over when running on pavement. Sandals didn't tend to hold feet securely for quick course corrections. To this day, if I look closely at my knees, I can see lots of little scars from all my spills over the years, courtesy of my sandals. I also wonder if I wouldn't be a faster runner today if I had been able to get any speed in my sandals.

And yet, there was no happier girl in all the land if I got sandals for my birthday. Out of all my faithful servants, there are two pairs I especially remember.

The first were my bicentennial summer sandals. They had tons of straps in red, white, and blue, with a cork floor. I felt completely glamorous in them. One day, I had a sharp pain in my foot. I told my mom and dad and they looked at my foot, finding nothing. I stood up and felt it again. They told me to take off my sandal and they examined it, finding nothing. I put the sandal back on and felt it again. "Well, you must have outgrown them," my dad said, tossing them in the trash. I was devastated! My beautiful sandals, tossed in the dustbin of history! I cried. Going back to my closed-toe shoes was like a penance. Oh, the humanity!

The second pair I especially remember were as comfortable as a sneaker and just as good for running. I could do anything in those sandals, and hardly fell down at all. The following summer, I remember how excited I was to put them on again—only to find I had outgrown them.

I ask you, has any child ever faced such deprivation? Well, I didn't think so.

Nowadays, I still love shoes and looooove looking at them. With the amount of walking I do, I am more eagle-eyed (read: completely obsessed) for shoes I can wear for long distances in comfort. But sandals will always have a special place in my heart (and my closet).

Please note: and when I say sandals, I MEAN SANDALS. I do NOT mean flip-flops, which are an abomination to footwear everywhere.

Ramrod: Thanks, Big Man

I am a big Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band fan. I became a fan after relentlessly mocking my older sister Margie for liking him. "Mumble mumble mumble," I would tunelessly sing along to one of her Sprinsteen records, "nobody knows what I'm saying, and nobody cares, and it's definitely depressing." One day, she reached out with her perfectly manicured talons and forced me to read the lyrics as the record played. I did. And was utterly won over.

Clarence Clemmons, the sax player for the E Street Band, died this past weekend. It makes me so sad.

So, a little remembrance:

Right after college, I moved back into my folks' home. I came into the workforce at the height of a recession, and it was hard finding work. When I did find work (in Chicago), it paid poorly. In between paying off my student loans, paying off my outstanding balance at my college, paying my parents rent, and paying for my egregiously high monthly train pass from the Western suburbs into Chicago, I practically had only pennies to set aside to save for the security deposit on an apartment my older sister Chris and I were going to share in Chicago. Also, I had to wake up really early in the mornings to hitch a ride with Chris to the train station. The train got in at 6:45 a.m., I believe. I reported for work two blocks away at 8:30 a.m. I would sit in the great hall of Untion Station, reading. I would smoke two cigarrettes, then go to work. I felt like a formless lemming coming up out of Untion Station and walking the bridge over the cold Chicago River to my office. At lunchtime, I would go across the street from my office to the 48th floor of the Sears Tower. There, I would buy a Diet Coke and a Symphony chocolate bar, read, and smoke two more cigarrettes before returning to my office and closing out the day. Then I would head back to Union Station for the train back home. I would take an earlier train than Chris, so I would wait at my suburban train station for her to get to the station as well. By the time I got back to my parents' house, I had 45 minutes before I needed to go to bed for 8 hours of sleep (which, of course, I never did/got).

It wasn't a joyless existence--I got to catch up with my younger sister Carol every night (she was still in high school). I got to hang out with Chris on the train. And I read a lot. During this time, I read lots of classics--The Picture of Dorian Gray, The House of Seven Gables, all of Jane Austen--books that were already at home so I didn't have to buy them. But it was definitely a period where I felt aimless and insignificant.

I have a big family, so there was always lots of people at my folks' house. It was nice in a way to fall back into the old routines, but I missed the privacy I could get in my dorm room. One Friday night, I was in a really bad mood. When I got home, by some miracle, no one was there. I was able to find Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band's record, "The River," amongst my boxes brought from college. I went behind the sofa in the living room, opened up the lid to my dad's record player, turned the volume up to 10, pressed the lever to release the spring mechanism for the arm, intercepted the needle with my index finger as it was about to land on the first song, and placed it instead on "Ramrod."

From Bruce's opening counts, "uhhh-ONE-TWO-THREE-FOUR" and the guitar plucks, you know you're in for a jamboree. It is a rollicking good song: it's funny and irreverent and you cannot keep still listening to it. And--as in so many songs--Clarence wails out a sax solo that turns the song up even further.

And I danced.

Oh, say little darlin' with the blue jeans on--

I danced from behind the sofa and into the living room.

Wanna ramrod with ya honey 'til half-past dawn--

That wasn't big enough to contain me, so I danced out to the dining room.

Put yer hair down mama and pick up this beat--

All around the dining room tables and all the chairs.

Well I said come on come on come on pretty sugar--

Then, back to the living room.

Come on come on let's shake it tonight--

I danced like I was mad.

Come on little darlin' won't you say you will--

I danced and I danced.

Meet me tonight on the top of that hill!--

I was out of breath, so I threw myself on the sofa.

Well late at night when I'm dead on the line--

But my legs wouldn't stay still, so I got back up to dance.

I think of yer purty face when I lay there awhile--

And I danced some more.

Well come on now sugar see them city lights?--

As Clarence opened up on his solo, I went even crazier.

Well she's a roadrunner engine in the '32 Ford--

Arms and legs akimbo, I spun around and around.

Give me the word now sugar and we'll go ramroddin' forevermore--

All right!

I played that song over and over--a million times. Eventually, I heard the back door unlock--someone was arriving home. I ran to the record player, whipped the record off, turned the volume down, and ran upstairs for the bedroom I shared with Chris and Carol. Maybe I didn't want to break the happy spell. Maybe I didn't want to share.

But I felt a whole lot better.

Thanks, Big Man. Rest in peace.

Foo Fighters: Update

Okay, so I've been listening to these guys (courtesy of Beloved) for a longer time now. I am sorry to report that since I've been able to now figure out most of their lyrics, they really stray into Spinal Tap territory.

There are still some good songs...but not as many as I thought before. They are good musicians, though.

The Ped Gets an iPhone and and iPad

It's too boring to get into, but I decided a few (like 8) weeks ago that I really needed to start catching up to technology before I was left irretrieveably (is that word even spelled right?--too lazy to check) behind. So I ordered an iPhone 3 (previous generation) and the iPad2. Herewith my observations.

Service Providers
I had a choice to go with Verizon or AT&T. Having seen all the abuse AT&T took for its poor service, and knowing that Verizon sucks just as hard, I decided to get AT&T on my phone and Verizon on my iPad.

AT&T has better coverage and service for where I live (Washington, DC). I am locked in to AT&T for my iPhone for 2 years--don't get me started: stupid, too expensive, etc. But the service is stellar. Verizon's coverage is just so-so. I am not locked in for them, so I will switch over to AT&T.


iPhone
The iPhone arrived first. It comes with no directions because it needs none. I couldn't believe how easy it was to figure out and set up. The AT&T people were perfectly wonderful and helpful. This phone changed my life in a space of a few days. The texting is easy. The calendar is awesome! Reading email is easy--for both work and personal. Having all my iPod stuff on there is nice, too, but I've found it's a little buggy when trying to play music. The notes feature is awesome, especially for a list-maker like me. Apps are cool. So, I loved it. In fact, I had a moment of panic, thinking, "why oh why did I buy the iPad too?" Then my iPad came in.

<Sound of iPhone clattering to the floor.>

iPad
Okay, this thing is C-O-O-O-O-O-L. But I've had stutter steps. It is very intuitive, but (possibly because) I've been out of the technology thing for a long time, and I hit walls. Books? Check. Magazines? Check. Photos? Check. Angry Birds? Check. Video streaming? Check. But then what? Hmmmmm, not sure. And everything was taking much longer when I was out of the office due to our wireless at home not recognizing my devices (but that's another story--once we got that sorted, it was ZOOM ZOOM fast).

Luckily, I have a colleague who has an iPad2. He mentioned several apps I might like, which helped because then I went exponentially farther with my iPad than I could have figured out myself (some of those most helpful I list below, for other newbies). And I have to give it up AGAIN for the notes feature. You can make as many lists as you want! The keyboard interface is very friendly (but I also bought the wireless keyboard). Quibble? The camera. This goes for the iPhone, too, but less so. If you're going to put a camera in, make it at least passable in quality. It's irritating, especially since the camera is one of the primary reasons for the differentiation between iPad1 and iPad2 (not to mention the price!).

I am also irritated that I can't update this blog from my iPad. I am certain this is USER ERROR, but I can't figure it out. I just keep getting kicked out.

One unexpected drawback?  Everything is at my fingertips--music, podcasts, videos, books, magazines. Sometimes I feel anxious when I'm reading/listening/watching at the enormous load of content that's going unviewed/unheard/unread. I don't feel that way with a book, or when I'm watching a video at home. It better fucking pass, because it can be really irritating.

I also feel a little self-concious with my iPad to/from work. I feel a little, "oooo, look at you, fancy girl with the iPad 2."

Bottom line: if you have an iPad in a box that you haven't taken out, take it out. It's easy. You will really love it and you will use it much more than you think.

Some apps I like (these are apps you need to download/don't come with the iPad automatically):
NextBusDC
NextMetroDC
Netflix
TheNewYorker
Peapod (grocery delivery)
Flipboard (awesome!!!)
Zite (also awesome!)
TunInRadio
Kindle (but wonder if I'll ultimately prefer iBooks, which is what iPad comes with)

One word on the apps: I thought the apps would be the same as the website, just "iPad-sized." Not true. So apps that "live" on the Internet (e.g., Peapod, Facebook, Netflix) are not as "easy" to use as going direct to the website.


Apps I don't like:
Epicurious--very unwieldy (in my view)--just hop on the internet and go to http://www.allrecipes.com/.
Hangman (stupid and sucks)
Angry Birds (I don't get the mania, but kids love it and I have used it as bribery for love)

Apps I have but haven't messed with enough yet:
Friendly (shows "iPad friendly" version of Facebook. I think.)
Facebook (I just check it out through Flipboard, though Flipboard doesn't show you comments, etc.)
Zinio

Apps that came with iPad I don't really get:
Game Center

So that's that.

The Ped Gets a Car

I've never owned a car until very recently.

In the winter, Beloved and I moved to a new neighborhood. In my old neighborhood, I could get anywhere with about a 20-minute walk. In my new neighborhood, that turned into a 40-minute walk. At first, I didn't think that would be a big problem. More walking! More slowing down this crazy life! But over time, it did pose challenges--and often, the challenges seemed insurmountable. Beloved could give me rides, sure, but my self-determination and independence were rather sorely challenged. (I was a Zipcar member as well, but the closest car was over two miles away--too far to be of any real use.)

When my folks came to visit in the Spring, they got into a fender-bender about a mile from our house (not their fault--but that confounding Chevy Chase Circle!). In my old neighborhood, I could have jumped into a taxi and gotten to them lickety-split. In my new neighborhood, there are no taxis unless you call them, so I called Beloved and asked him to leave work to meet me at the scene, and I pulled on my running clothes to run there. Not an ideal situation.

So, when Beloved's sister started talking about buying a new car, Beloved and I discussed buying her old one--a 1995 Celica convertible (soft top). It would be a good city car. It was a huge, happy shock when Beloved's sister and husband GIFTED the car to us when they purchased a new one (though we have since given them some gifts in exchange). So now I have a car!

It's white, it's old, but it's mine, it's all mine! It still hasn't sunk in that I have a car. I don't use it to commute (I still either do the walk-bus-metro thing or drive in with Beloved), but the car has really come in handy. Like when I wanted to go to a friend's wedding shower in a nearby town, and I couldn't have gotten there on public transportation. When I picked up my family at the airport recently. And when Beloved was driving me mad and it was too hot to walk outside so I drove myself to the nearest shopping center to cool off (in every way).

It will be interesting to see if I like car ownership overall, but so far, I love it!

Obviously Not! Obviously Not!

One of my brothers and one of my sisters came out to visit me and Beloved this past weekend. Due to Mother Nature, their flight was delayed considerably. This being the case, they told me not to come pick them up at the airport, they would take a taxi to our place.

At 1:30 a.m., they called me. "Uh, we were wondering if you could come pick us up at the airport. The taxi line is about a mile long."

No problem. I hopped in my new car (ugh, I just remembered I never blogged about that) and headed out. A family of deer wouldn't get out of my way. In Georgetown, a group of drunk college students wouldn't get out of my way. I hit all red lights. Then, as I hit the interstate to Reagan Airport, a downpour of epic proportions hit me. Finally, I arrived and picked up Frick (my brother) and Frack (my sister).

As we headed back into town, my air conditioning crapped out and the windows fogged up. Frack grabbed some socks out of Frick's luggage and I was using that to see out the window as Frick tried to get the defrost on. A sudden warning cry went up from Frick and Frack as they saw someone pull out from the curb without looking. I slammed on the brakes and time stood still as it does in such circumstances. Dummy, who had pulled out without looking, rolled down his window and started castigating us, asking, "didn't you see me?"

My brother Frick had evidently had enough, what with his much-delayed flight, the still-pouring rain, the window issue, and now Dummy. He launched a verbal assault on the dummy that had little effect, because Dummy responded, "traffic was stopped, that's why I pulled out."

This is when I decided to stick my oar in, saying (or crowing), "obviously not! obviously not!"

Insurance informaiton was exchanged and Dummy decided maybe it wasn't worth all the trouble. My brother Frack immediately calmed down and said, "okay then, let's call it a day." Off we went on our way.

A few blocks later, as we were reviewing the events, my sister Frick suddenly mimicked, "obviously not! obviously not!" It made us all laugh and laugh and laugh.

Somehow, "obviously not! obviously not!" just captured the whole thing magnificently. And needless to say, the phrase popped up throughout the very fun (and otherwise unremarkable--well, unless you count us getting lost in Rock Creek Park) weekend.

I Am An American

The subway system in Washington, DC (called Metro) usually has a regular stone staircase in between two escalators (one escalator going up, one going down). Whenever I am going down into the Metro, I always think, "I shall always choose freedom over tyranny!" and I take the steps. I am quite fierce about it.

When I am coming up out of the Metro, the escalator suddenly seems far less oppressive, so I go ahead and take it.

Funny, isn't it?