Shoes, Ships, and Sealing Wax

I must be a champion masochist

Season after season. Sport after sport. Team after team.

Terps are Going Nowhere

Surprise Ending: Caps Fall in N.Y.

Chargers Thwart Redskins, 23-17

Offensively-Challenged Caps Fall to Sabres

Why am I a sports fan?

Happy Thanksgiving!

There's a list of tips for "How to Stress Less" in the paper today. It's just common sense, except it says "Instead of emptying that bottle of pinot..." I find it easier to employ common sense along with the wine.

For the last couple of weeks I've been asking my mother what she wants me to make for Thanksgiving. Three Sisters Stew again? A couple of pies? Each offer, she refused. Yesterday she called: she has something for me to do. Go buy wine.

I got Gewürztraminer for the white wine fans. (I took German for seven years, but I still stumble over "Gewürztraminer"). I was headed for pinot noir for red, but on the way I got distracted and decided that zinfandel would be just as good.

Now, I know zip about wine, but every zinfandel I buy seems to come from Lodi, and I really like the song by Creedence Clearwater Revival. I saw a bottle with the label "Earth, Zin, and Fire," and that's when I decided to skip the pinot noir. The only thing that will make me buy wine faster than a cute animal on the label is a pun.

Hopefully the wine selection won't ruin dinner, but I'm not going to stress out about it. We can always drink beer.

Loveliest of trees, the cherry now

...is looking like a cord of firewood.

The tree service is here cutting down the cherry trees on my street, the ones next to the mailbox. I had heard that the trees were not well and would be removed this year, but I don't know what botanical malady they had. Last spring they flowered as nicely as ever, and when the blossoms fell they looked like snow and reminded me of when I was a little girl and I played in the falling blossoms of the cherry trees in my grandparents' yard.

Well, next spring I won't be stepping on the cherries and leaving purple stains on the floor, at least.

Don't drink, don't smoke, what do you do?

Someone at work overheard me talking about my trip and asked "So why did you go to Las Vegas?"

For a wedding, actually. But a friend of mine, suspecting that the Strip would be somewhat lost on me, suggested that we go to Red Rock Canyon* while we were out there, and that was worth the price of admission.

I'm still a little awed, and all we did was go around the scenic drive. I wasn't in hiking shape, and even if I had been, the little bit of wandering we did took us three hours. Being an East Coast girl (without being at all hip) I am used to lots of green and rolling hills, so the desert was alien to me. Oh sure, I've seen movies and pictures, but they don't do it justice. That didn't stop me from shooting 170 pictures, though.

(Click for larger, though they still don't do it justice.)

*The offical BLM site, http://www.redrockcanyon.blm.gov/, is currently offline.

MGM Grand

On November 21, 1980, an electrical fire in a restaurant of the MGM Grand in Las Vegas spread through the casino on the ground level. Smoke rose through the ventalation system, elevator shafts, and stairwells up all 26 floors. The casualties (85 fatalities and 650 casualties, with three more deaths occuring within the year) made this the second-worst hotel fire in the U.S.*

Built in 1973, the hotel was not fully sprinklered nor alarmed. These were not required under the contemporary code, although there were code violations found in the investigation.

Although the fire began on the hotel's ground level, most of the people killed were found above the 19th floor, and most died of carbon monoxide poisoning. Since there was no alarm system, many of the hotel guests were awakened by the sirens of the responding fire trucks and the noise of the helicopters. Some switched on the room televisions and saw that their hotel was on fire. Evacuation of the building took four hours.

The MGM Grand on the Strip now, the one I saw from the plane, is not the same building, although the original was rebuilt. It became Bally's in 1985.

Most of what I know about the fire at the MGM Grand I know in the context of How Things Changed, because the MGM Grand is like the Triangle Shirtwaist Factor and Imperial Foods, fires used to illustrate safety issues in training classes. I noticed, in my hotel this trip, that exit signs were posted at the floor level, where you might actually see them if you were crawling, and there was a designated fire refuge shelter. I also noticed lots of sprinklers, lots of sprinklers. Nevada, I've always heard, has some of the strictest fire codes in the country.

You do learn from tragedies. Just three months after the MGM Grand there was a fire at the Las Vegas Hilton with eight fatalities and 200 injuries. Greater loss was likely avoided because fire department officials were already putting in place lessons learned from the MGM Grand: they broadcast instructions to the Hilton guests on the TV news.

For more: The Clark County Fire Department's Significant Emergencies page.

*The worst was the Winecoff Hotel fire in Atlanta in 1946; 119 fatalities. That was December 7, 1946.

Random observations from my trip

I've always heard Las Vegas has a "dry heat." I found it more like "freaking desiccator." I felt like I was about to crumble into dust the entire weekend, and that was with drinking about a liter of water an hour.

Henderson, Nevada, seems to have at least one of every chain store or restaurant in the entire country. From my hotel window I could see Target, Levitiz, Office Depot, Petsmart, Vitamin Shoppe, Carl's Jr., Chipolte, and Curves. I suspect it has something to do with how new most of the development is, and boy is it developing. The traffic reminded me of home.

I lost all of a dollar. I bet all of a dollar. The real gambling was too confusing...not the games themselves, but the unwritten rules, like that you only pick up your cards with one hand...and the slots were just dull. And I was too dehydrated and jetlagged to drink, so I spent a weekend in Las Vegas sober and without gambling. Weird, huh?

I can't get used to smelling cigarette smoke everywhere. That was another reason I stayed out of the casinoes.

The Wynn has hideously ugly carpet in the elevator lobbies, at least on the 37th floor. It's a sort of blocky paisley. On the other hand, with all the flowers and plants everywhere, they do have a bit of humidity, and that I liked.

You get a really nice view of the Strip as you land, and when I saw the MGM Grand the first thing I thought of was the fire. That is why I'm so much fun at parties...I can associate everything back to disasters. (You know, the fire. I'll talk about it later, because it just so happens, tomorrow is the 25th anniversary.)

We rented a car, a white Neon. We kept losing it in parking lots, because 90% of the cars out there were small white sedans. I expect this is a function of lots of the cars being rentals and wanting light-colored cars for the summer heat. I know you aren't supposed to leave dogs and kids in cars, but apparently Nevada summers will also bake cell phones and laptops.

I'm sure there was more, but my brain is still rattling around in my skull. And arriving home at 4 a.m. (yeah, that is another thing: no more red eye flights. That was dumb.) threw me off. Until I'm thinking clearly, here are some pictures.

Out of office auto reply

I will be out of the office November 17 and 18. I will respond to your message when I return on Monday, November 21. Although if I win big in Vegas, I'll be calling from the plane to say "Take this job and shove it," and I don't know who will get back to you. Nor will I care.
Come to think of it, when I do get back Monday I'll probably be grumpy because I didn't win any money, and probably I'll have lost some, so you may want to just retract your e-mail so that you don't have to deal with me. It's better for all of us. Thank you.

Once I was an early adapter

Believe it or not, I was. I coded web pages with a text editor on a 286 laptop. But my time as a geek who knew what I was doing was brief, and technology has passed me by.

I am finally looking into that RSS thing. In fact, the only reason I'm posting this is to see if I can make the RSS thingy work.

All my bags are packed, I'm ready to go

But it's only Tuesday. The [e-mail confirmation that takes the place of the] tickets say Thursday. D'oh.

I am not looking forward to flying, and I'm anxious about leaving the sickly rat, but I am looking forward to a vacation. Except for the annual week at the beach with the family (and I'm not saying that's not a vacation, but it's the comfortable, familiar, same-place-for-the-last-30-years kind of trip) the last time I went away was...hang on, I'm thinking...um, 2001. I had a training in Williamsburg, so I went down early and spent the weekend.

That can't be right. Four years?

Wait, I spent the night in North Carolina not that long ago...must have been 2002. Yeah, I remember, June 2002. I had really good bar-b-que in Henderson.

Adventure Girl, that's me.

I just filled out the form at work to sell back my extra leave. I do this every year; it helps pay for Christmas presents. But this year I was thinking...if this flight goes well, maybe I'll finally kick the plane phobia. And next year instead of selling my leave I'll do something totally wild, like leave the time zone for an entire week.

Three Sisters Stew

Last Thanksgiving my mom gave me (vegetarian sympathizer that I am) the task of bringing to dinner something hearty enough that my visiting vegetarian cousin would still get a main dish. (My cousin, incidentally, insisted that we didn't need to go to any trouble, she'd eat whatever was around that wasn't meat., but my mom, the equally insistent hostess, wanted to make sure she got some protein.)

I found this "tradition vegetarian Thanksgiving" Three Sisters Stew. Now, I don't know if this is traditionally what vegetarians eat on Thanksgiving, or if it is really a traditional recipe, but the "three sisters" part really is a Native American tradition. According to an Oneida Indian Nation page:

Modern day agriculturists know it as the genius of the Indians, who interplanted pole beans and squash with corn, using the strength of the sturdy corn stalks to support the twining beans and the shade of the spreading squash vines to trap moisture for the growing crop. Research has further revealed the additional benefits of this "companion planting.'' The bacterial colonies on the bean roots capture nitrogen from the air, some of which is released into the soil to nourish the high nitrogen needs of the corn. To Native Americans, however, the meaning of the Three Sisters runs deep into the physical and spiritual well-being of their people. Known as the "sustainers of life," the Iroquois consider corn, beans and squash to be special gifts from the Creator. The well-being of each crop is believed to be protected by one of the Three Sister Spirits. Many an Indian legend has been woven around the "Three Sisters" -sisters who would never be apart from one another- sisters who should be planted together, eaten together and celebrated together.

I found many variations of the stew online, and came up with this adaptation:

Three Sisters Stew

Cut a 2-pound butternut squash in half and remove seeds. Put the halves cut-side up in a baking dish, add a little water, cover with foil and back for 40 minutes at 350 degrees. Cool, remove skin, and dice.

In a large, heavy pot:

Saute 1 chopped onion and 1 teaspoon of jarred minced garlic in 1 tablespoon of olive oil.

Add 1/2 a red pepper, seeded and cut into thin strips.

Add squash.

Add:
1 (15 oz.) can of pinto beans, drained
1 (15 oz.) can of corn, drained*
1 (4 oz.) can of chopped green chilies
1 (15 oz.) can of diced tomatoes, undrained
1 cup of vegetable stock
2 teaspoons of oregano
1 teaspoon (and maybe more) of ground cumin

Simmer for a couple of hours, adding more cumin and salt and pepper to taste.

Just before serving, add two tablespoons of fresh cilantro. (I just held the cilantro over the pot and cut off little pieces of leaves with the kitchen shears.)

Like so many stews, this improved by sitting overnight and being reheated the next day.

*Better, if you can find it, is the equivalent amount of frozen roasted corn. Trader Joe's sells it, but I haven't seen it in other grocery store. I suppose if you are truly ambitious you can find actual fresh corn and roast it yourself, but if you are like that you probably clicked away from this page as soon as you saw the jarred garlic.

Not only did this pass with the vegetarian, but my dad and my brother-in-law (the two family members least understanding of the vegetarian concept) both liked it too...though not in place of the turkey.

And since Thanksgiving isn't Thanksgiving without leftovers, the leftover stew made a lovely enchilada filling.

But I kinda like the music

This was the week that half my staff left. People keep asking what I'm going to do. I've been saying "I'm going to Vegas."

Nic's a riot. You know half her staff quit, right? So I asked what she's going to do. She looked at me and totally deadpan, she goes "I'm going to Vegas." It's good she's still laughing, but really, what is she gonna do?

No, really, I'm going to Las Vegas. Not until Thursday, though.

Because I am insane and because I'm afraid of flying, I've been spending this week concentrating not on work but on planning the trip. I am flying. It takes three days to get to Las Vegas by train. Actually, the train no longer goes to Las Vegas. It goes to Needles and you catch a bus. And as much as I would love love love to go around saying "I headed for Las Vegas, only made it out to Needles," I do have a bit of a schedule to worry about. After all, I only have half a staff, I can't take off the next two weeks.

A couple weeks ago my niece's school had a fundraiser. They don't do those wimpy bake sales, they do a wine tasting. Then you can order the wines, and the school gets a cut. Today I picked mine up...a case of wine and two cases of beer. (It's for the children!) when the guy from the liquor store loaded my car (this may have been the first time I ever needed a handtruck to take out my alcohol purchase), he said "Have a nice weekend." Pointing to the full back seat, I said "I guess I will now."

I need one more topic to make this post a hat trick of non sequiturs. Yay hats!

Gales of November Remembered

Tomorrow is the 30th anniversary of the sinking of the Edmund Fitzgerald. I mentioned it last year and the year before, and because anniversaries that end in zeroes are always more noteworthy, I've already seen some articles this year.

I'm not sure why I return to this every year. I'm not obsessed. I have no theory as to why the ship sank. I have no particular interest in ships or shipwrecks. I have sympathy for the families of the men, but no ties to them.

When the ship sank, she was on her way to a foundry on Zug Island in the Detroit River (not Cleveland, as the song said). The iron ore would have ended up as steel for cars.

Sometimes, when I hear the song, or on days like today when I'm thinking about the 29 lost crew, I think about how many people do dangerous jobs to produce things I generally take for granted.

I thought of this when I read The Perfect Storm. I wasn't sure if I ever wanted to eat swordfish again. But if people don't eat swordfish, what happens to Gloucester?

So tomorrow I'll think about where the steel in my car came from, and remember not only the Edmund Fitzgerald crew, but the more than 30,000 mariners who died in 6,000 shipwrecks in the Great Lakes.

The memorial service by the Great Lakes Shipwreck Museum will be available as a webcast tomorrow evening. For more information on the mariner memorial, see the Great Lakes Mariners Memorial Project.

Hockey Night in D.C.

Sunday, 27 November, 4 p.m., Caps vs. Sabres, MCI Arena.

(When I floated the idea originally, I said the game was at 3:00. Then I saw 4:00 on the schedule and thought I was losing it, but as it turns out, the game was originally scheduled at 3 and later changed to 4. That made me feel better about my facilties, but man, this season's schedule is whacked. Sunday games are at 1:00, 4:00, 5:00, 6:00...were they just spinnng a wheel? Is it test marketing for next year? And speaking of game times, I'd love to smack the genius that made the Columbus Day and Veteran's Day games at 1:00. We don't all get federal holidays off, pal.)

Sorry. I'm having one of those days.

What I meant to do was plug the aforementioned Capitals game, Sunday 27 November, as a little IRL get together. I believe Ted and Dawn are interested, and I assume Victor will be there.

Anyone else? It is the Sunday after Thanksgiving...surely by then you'll be sick of leftovers and Christmas shopping. (If you'll still be making your way back over the river and through the woods from grandmother's house, we'll be trying this again in January, when the college kids are home.)

The Great American Standard Operating Procedure

Ted (and a bunch of other people) are writing novels this month, part of National Novel Writing Month.

Impressive.

I won't be writing a novel this month.

When I was a kid, after I outgrew the fantasy jobs phase (hockey player, circus animal trainer, paramedic), I switched to the more practical. I sucked at math (and by extension, I figured I sucked at science, so I never paid it much mind) so I figured I'd become a writer.

Early on, though, I realized my imagination wasn't very vivid, so creative writing was out. Also, I'm shy. As much as Woodword and Bernstein were my childhood heroes, I never wanted to be a household name.

One day in high school I was reading a report on seat belt usage put out by the National Transportation Safety Board, and it hit me: someone had written that. I imagined an anonomyous government peon at a desk in Southwest (the fact that I knew the DOT offices were at L'Enfant Plaza helped me imagine this) combing through a bunch of computer printouts and summarizing the data into the seat belt pamphlet. I imagined the peon breaking at noon to eat a ham and cheese sandwich out of a paper sack, then spending the afternoon sorting frontal impact crash test results for another report. Then the peon would take the Metro home to eat dinner and watch tv.

I had found my calling.

I wrote that up into a little essay which my English teacher thought was hysterical. In my yearbook, she wrote "I expect to be reading you in the New Yorker!" I'm not sure why, but when I'm serious people think I'm kidding, and when I'm joking people take me seriously. I think that proves my communication skills aren't that high caliber, so I need to stick to fact-based prose.

How many people have their adolescent dream job?

Ok, my subject is health instead of transportation, and I didn't land in the government (my only regret...no government holidays.) But every day I read boring things and I write boring things.

And clearly this was my avocation as well as a vocation, because I can't turn it off. I write boring things for eight hours a day, but instead of coming home to watch tv at night, I write more boring things in my blog.

Ginger ale and saltines

The breakfast (and lunch) of champions...bilious champions, anyway.

Actually, by the time I finished my lunchtime sleeve of saltines, I was feeling well enough to go to work, but why bother? It's been more appealing to putter around the house. I cleared out some recycling...I'm now receiving about thirty catalogs a day in the mail...and looking at the catalogs prompted me to begin the Christmas shopping.

By that, I mean that I ordered a Snoopy Washington Nations Pez dispenser for my 85-year-old great aunt. Laugh if you want, but this is the perfect gift: she loves Snoopy, she loves baseball, she loves Washington, and due to recent complications with her kidneys, she can't eat chocolate. Pez, I think, is very low in potassium.

Now I only need to find gifts this perfect for twenty more people and I'm all set.

Día de los Muertos

Yo Netzhualcoyotl pregunto:
¿Acaso de veras se vive con raíz en la tierra?
No para siempre en la tierra:
Solo un poco aquí.
Aunque sea de oro se rompe,
Aunque sea plumaje de quetzal se desgarra
No para siempre en la tierra:
Solo un poco aquí.

Miguel Leon-Portilla, Trece poetas del mundo azteca

I, Nezahualcoyotl, I ask you:
Is it true that we have roots in the earth?
Surely, we are not here forever?
Only for a time are we here!
Though you are carved in jade you will break
Though you are made of gold you will crack
Though you are a quetzal feather you will wither
Only for a time are we here.