Dewey Beach, part two

We walked to the beach after dark on the Fourth of July, where a happy crowd was enjoying fireworks, both in the sky . . .

And on the sand . . .

I liked these fireworks - not very showy and not very loud (unlike the fireworks behind the apartment complex where we lived in New Jersey, which were much too loud and spectacular and booming). These fireworks were simpler, but the crowd seemed to enjoy them, with lots of kids and parents cheering after each one went off. This was also the first time I've been among a crowd that spontaneously chanted "USA, USA" every so often, and to me this seemed sweet, not jingoistic (is that a word?).

The moon was so big and orange that it almost competed with the fireworks.

On July 5th, we drove over to Cape Henlopen State Park. Beautiful.

They have a program at the park where you borrow a bicycle and ride around the bike paths for a few hours, and then return the bike. We tried this, and Neil loved it (although he wanted a bike with gears), whereas I felt as though it was insane to be riding around in 100-degree weather when you could be in the ocean. We made plans to pursue our own preferred methods of relaxation on the morrow.

Back to Nalu for lunch. Cobb salad for Neil and a pulled pork sandwich for me.

Yummy and inexpensive.

Then we decided to escape the heat in a movie theater, and saw Moonrise Kingdom. I loved, loved, loved this movie.

Back to the hotel. Neil decided to go looking for a bike shop where he could rent something with gears, and I headed for the beach.

Aaaah. The water is cold for the first minute, and then wonderful. One of those surprising currents - you think you're just standing in the surf, look toward shore, and realize that you have drifted about twenty feet from where you started, in just a couple of minutes. I could swim against the current and get nowhere - great exercise.

I may believe in the negative ion theory about sea air.

For dinner we took advantage of happy hour specials again, this time at a restaurant named Nage. Neil had the cucumber gazpacho, followed by baked brie with a small arugula salad.

I chose the summer vegetable lavash (baby squash, cherry tomatoes, cremini, and garlic mascarpone - no photo, unfortunately), followed by the goat cheese, cracker, and honeyed almond plate.

So we made a dinner out of four half-price appetizers, and it was just great. The couple next to us at the bar were celebrating an anniversary, and they ordered champagne for everyone, so there was that, too.

A second wonderful day of vacation. One more to go.

Dewey Beach, Delaware

Oh my. I'm so far behind on posting that I'm not sure what to do.

Since I lasted posted (two weeks ago!) I have dipped my toes (or my whole body) in both the Pacific and the Atlantic oceans, and have started teaching two online classes.

And other stuff, of course. It's amazing how much two weeks can contain. I know that many people do much more, but it seems like it has been enough for me.

So here is a little bit of catching up.

Neil has a new job, and he gets no vacation time for the first six months or so. I'm not complaining - after enduring two years of unemployment, we are both very happy that he has a job at all, and we are digging ourselves out of the financial hole you fall into when one wage earner becomes unemployed.

BUT - I like vacations. I really do. So I was happy to learn that his workplace would be closed July 4-6, and we could take a quick two- or three-day vacation. Unpaid on his end, but paid on mine.

In all the years we have lived on the east coast, we have never been to the Jersey or Maryland or Delaware shore in the summer. Going "down the shore" is an iconic summer experience for lifelong easterners, but it never seemed like such a big deal to us. But now, now with a quick three-day vacation possible, we opted for going down the shore. We found a motel just a block from the ocean in Dewey Beach, Delaware.

I now understand why people feel deprived if they don't go down the shore at least once during the summer (and many, many people do it every single weekend - in fact, when I worked as a medical editor at Lippincott, they had summer hours for the whole company - longer days Monday through Thursday, half a day on Fridays - so that employees could get to the beach by Friday night).

Mr. Bean seemed to suspect that something was up, and he was about to be left behind. I took a picture of him watching me pack the suitcase.

Well, too bad for you, Mr. Bean. Don't worry - it's only for three days. I had found a Best Western hotel only a block from the beach. An ordinary American hotel, but for some reason I love hotels - especially the row of pillows on the bed that someone else has made, standing at attention.

This was the first time I've had a room with a shower with no door. You could roll a wheelchair into the room and just sit on the bench and shower, if you wanted to. Perhaps this is becoming more common, but it was the first time I've seen this kind of set-up. It seems sensible, what with the aging of America and the need for accessible facilities.

Right across the street from the hotel, a Hawaiian-themed restaurant/bar, Nalu, which featured great happy hour specials.  Here is Neil holding Hawaiian iced tea (pineapple juice and alcohol of some sort - I don't remember now if it's vodka or something else). I should mention that this was in the midst of a horrible heat wave, so we didn't want to walk much farther than across the street).

The happy hour food specials included these great mango buffalo wings and Hawaiian pizza. All very, very, incredibly low-priced. This was our first hint that we could spend the entire vacation living on happy hour specials.

To be continued . . . .

We'll weather the weather

What do we do during a heat wave?

Go biking.

Biked six miles around the lake at Peace Valley Park this morning. It really wasn't all that hot, since we went pretty early in the morning, and biking creates a breeze all by itself. No photos, since I have misplaced my camera.

But I am well aware of the horrible storms and terrible weather throughout many states, at the same time that I am very glad that our little corner of the world seems to have escaped the worst of it.

Speaking of weather, it would be nice right now to be in London, where it's raining poems.


Whether the weather be fine,
Or whether the weather be not,
Whether the weather be cold,
Or whether the weather be hot,
We'll weather the weather
Whatever the weather
Whether we like it or not.

Ricotta pancakes in her honor

So yesterday after work I stopped by the library to pick up a book I had requested, I Remember Nothing.

I read some of it last night, before going to sleep, and finished it on the train this morning, during my commute to work.

A slight book. Only 135 pages, and lots of white space. Short reflections and essays. Funny, mostly lightweight stuff.

But as I walked the eight blocks from the train station to my office (note: the past few days have been wonderfully cool and delightful, and I have been walking as much as possible, enjoying the weather), I was thinking, "It's just so great that Nora Ephron is ahead of me by a few years, letting us all know what it's like to get older. It's like having a funny older sister making me laugh along the way." I was looking forward to her next book.

And then I arrived at work, and turned on the computer, and looked at the news. Nora Ephron had died, at the age of 71.

Like a punch to the stomach.

I am so sorry that she didn't get the chance to enjoy old age. She would have been a wonderful old woman.

She tried to warn us in I Remember Nothing, which ends with two lists: What I Won't Miss and What I Will Miss.

I am going to make her ricotta pancake this weekend, and at some point I'll make Ruthie's Bread and Butter Pudding. I'm also going to take her advice and add extra egg yolks to omelettes and egg salad. (Ephron was the kind of writer who included recipes in her essays.)

A passage from I Remember Nothing:

The realization that I may have only a few good years remaining has hit me with real force, and I have done a lot of thinking as a result. I would like to hve come up with something profound, but I haven't. I try to figure out what I really want to do every day. I try to say to myself, If this is one of the last days of my life, am I doing exactly what I want to be doing? I aim low. My idea of a perfect day is a frozen custard at Shake Shack and a walk in the park. . . . The other night we were coming up the FDR Drive and Manhattan was doing its fabulous, magical, twinkling thing, and all I could think was how lucky I've been to spend my adult life in New York City. . . .  Sometimes, instead, we go to Los Angeles, where there are hummingbirds, and I love to watch them because they're so busy getting the most out of life.

A week in June of 2012

A summary of the recent week, in no particular order:

I bought a bike.

I contracted a horrible case of contact dermatitis.

I planted tomatoes and flowers and herbs.

Old friends stopped by on their travels between Florida and Vermont, and were able to spend the night - a fantastic evening!

I walked and walked with good old Mr. Bean. We worked on Drop It, Fetch, and Instant Come Here in class on Saturday.

My son Chris spent a night, on his way to Bulgaria and Greece for a couple of weeks.

I finished grading JUST about everything for the online class - grade are due to be turned in Tuesday night. A week off, and then begins a quarter in which I will teach TWO sections online. I like this.

I had dinner with Jay and Janet in Philadelphia, and we saw Kinky Friedman smoking a big cigar outside World Cafe Live, where he and his band were scheduled to play that night.

And a few photos related to the above statements, and to other things:

My new bike, Woody, in the butterfly garden at the park. It's a no-gears, no-hand-brakes, reconditioned bike that we bought used for $95, and it is just my style! This is the kind of bike I rode all through grade school and high school. Here's another shot, showing off the handsome wicker basket:

I had a tuna sandwich at Tria Wine Room with Jay and Janet. Didn't stop to think about taking a photo until I had taken bites of the sandwich, and had emptied my first glass of wine, so this is not a very good shot - but I did suddenly realize that it was such a lovely evening for dining outdoors, and I wanted to take some sort of photo.

The front garden. Still lots to be done, but it's coming along.

Cinnamon basil:

The hydrangea by the side of the house, where I pruned and weeded this weekend and last:

See that innocent-looking little vine sneaking up the side of the house in the back of the photo above?

It's not innocent. It's evil.

This photo was taken on the sixth day of a 12-day course of prednisone, so it doesn't look as bad as it did six days ago. Suffice it to say that my hands and face looked as though someone had thrown acid on them. On the task list for next weekend:

The artist-decorated pianos on the streets of Philadelphia were still being played by various folks, one of whom was kind enough to allow me to snap a photo on Friday morning, as I walked to work from the train station:

Did I mention that the weather has been stunningly gorgeous? The entire week was cool and comfortable at night, and pleasantly warm (but not too hot) during the day.

And so I arrive at this quiet point on Sunday evening - whew. The weeks they fly by.

Meet the robins!

At the end of May I noticed a nest just outside a bedroom window. I thought I could see at least two eggs in there, in addition to one very watchful parent.

There were three eggs, shaded by the heart-shaped lilac leaves.

The parents were careful to stay on top of those chicks, day and night, in all kinds of weather. We did have quite a few rather violent thunderstorms around this time, but the nest was of sound construction.

At first the chicks seemed barely alive. They didn't move much, and their pitiful feathers didn't even cover their little naked bodies. I worried about them.

But they grew rapidly. My, what big eyes you have!

They slept and slept, gradually taking up more and more space in the nest.

And actually, they looked a little bit lizardy.

The parents took a dim view of my attempts to preserve these precious moments.

Within just one week, the babies had grown immensely, had sprouted respectable feathers, and were obviously hungry.

And within just a week and half, the nest was beginning to be more than a bit cramped.

Both parents were brave protectors, raising a fuss whenever I was near the nest, and following me back to the house. They scolded me until I was inside. I tried to stay away as much as I could while still getting some photos, going near the nest every third day or so.

About two weeks after they had hatched, these chicks were way too big for their tiny home.

But they still wanted mom and dad to take care of them, of course.

And then one day there were only two in the nest.

And soon after that, none. And they left their nest nice and tidy, too.

I read in Wikipedia that a pair of robins often hatch as many as three broods each spring, but that they build new nests for each brood. I don't expect to ever again have such a close-up view -- what a privilege!

The pianos are here!

This morning I saw my first artist-decorated piano , on Market Street.

Doesn't really look much like a piano from that angle. You have to get closer and come around the side to see the keyboard.

In the afternoon, on my way back to the train station, I saw someone sitting in the seat playing the instrument. Then, a few blocks east, I saw another one, this time decorated with yarn.

You can just see the top of the musician's head in this photo, and what you can't see is a group of Drexel students off to the side, singing along.

A beautiful day for playing piano on the street.