Author: Marsha S.

Since I am sharing frog stories, here are some pics of the rest of the animals I have seen in my back yard.  Matt wonders why I go outside and pull weeds. This is why!  There is always a surprise waiting.

 

Polli and Wog have gone off to be frogs.  Wog was the first to go.  Here is a video of him with full legs trying to escape from the fountain.  He was about the size of a nickel.  He knew freedom was over that wall.  We never saw him after this night.  Good luck Wog!

Polli hung around for another week.  She was very elusive and I did not have many photos of her.  I saw her one last time, her tail almost gone, clearly developed legs, much smaller, maybe the size of a dime.  She looked up at me, the God who peered down at her once a day, and she told herself, that God scares me.  I need to go now.  I never saw her again.  Good luck Polli!

This was a fascinating experiment, to watch them go from eggs to frogs, feeding them organic spinach and suffering from the cloud of mosquitos that also shared the water. It was just a happy accident.  I wish I could do it again.  Who knows.  Maybe next year one of them will come back and lay eggs in the fountain again.

They say that April is the cruelest month.  I say that April is what you make it.  I often get restless and just want to go.  I needed to take a short break, even if it was a long weekend.  Some people take trips to Vegas or maybe Florida.  Matt and I like to travel for art, events, experiences.  We might go to see a play in another city like Chicago, or get on a plane and spend a weekend checking out an art exhibit in San Francisco.  For us, that is way better than dropping quarters in a slot machine.

I learned that Dorrance Dance Company was going to be appearing at Dartmouth University and it looked like a moment when we could take a trip. Who is Dorrance Dance?  I may have waxed poetic about this woman before but the company founder is Michelle Dorrance, a tap dancer extraordinaire.  Honestly, I never really thought about tap dancing at all.  But a few years ago after she won a MacArthur Genius Award, she appeared on Stephen Colbert’s show and at that moment, I fell in love with tap.   Watching Michelle and her company perform puts a huge smile on my face. I get exuberant, irrationally so.

So I said, hey, let’s go and see Dorrance Dance perform a show we have never seen.  Okay.  Where is Dartmouth again?  I know this sounds dumb, but  I’m not an Ivy League aficionado.  I knew it was somewhere in New England, but I was not real clear on the state.  Turns out, it’s in Hanover, New Hampshire, not far from the Manchester Airport and a very convenient Southwest Air flight away.

What else do we need?  How about a spa because, well, why not?  Woodstock Inn in Woodstock, Vermont sounded just the ticket.  Where is Woodstock?  Who knows.  We would figure it out when we got there.  So off we went for Dorrance Dance Company at Dartmouth and a visit to Woodstock Vermont.

Woodstock Vermont cannot possibly get any more quaint as a typical New England town Any post card of Vermont with its autumn orange and yellow maple leaf colors against a white church spire  has to be a picture of Woodstock.  Clapboard Victorians, white churches with spires, and a town square exuded New England charm.

The Woodstock Inn is an old style New England hotel, with a huge welcoming fire place in the lobby, lots of wood panelling, and cozy nooks for book reading.  We arrived to find the weather had turned quite cold and rainy, with a little snow mixed in.  Having just left daffodils and spring in Washington, it was quite a shock.  We dumped our bags and headed back to Hanover for the dance performance.

Completely occupied by Dartmouth, Hanover seemed like any college town, lots of bars, kids and activity.  We had dinner at The Pine, the restaurant in the Hanover Inn.  The food was excellent, from the truffled deviled eggs, beef tartare with quails egg, to the wild boar pasta.  It was all just tasty.

Tap Dance is the Bomb

The Dance Performance was titled: The Blues Project with Toshi Reagon and BIGLovely featuring Derick K Grant and Dormeshia Sumbry-Edwards.  Toshi Reagon is a folk/blues/funk musician from NYC .  Derick Grant is known for appearing in Bring in Da Noise, Bring in Da Funk.  He has some significant history.  Dormeshia Sumbry-Edwards supposedly taught Michaek Jackson how to moonwalk.  All together they put on a fantastic high energy performance of original music and great choreography.  Go to her website and take a look at some of the groups performances.  Tap dancing is like the banjo–there is nothing sad about it.

After the show, there was a Q & A.  Matt raised his hand to ask a question and he told Michelle that we had come all the way from DC, we had seen her in three states at this point (Maryland, Pennsylvania and New Hampshire), and we are prepared to travel more to see her great shows.  She was so touched by this.  Blown away really.  After the Q & A, I ran down to the stage to get her autograph on my program.  I was explaining to her that we absolutely loved her company and that she just made us happy. Matt came up and piped in and we talked for a long time.  She told us that if she is in DC, she will try to give us a head’s up so we know she is coming. And you know we will be there.

Birds are pretty cool too.

What does one do in Woodstock?  Falconry.  The Inn had teamed up with a company that offers plain old folks like us the adventure of playing with birds of prey.  New England Falconry allowed us to put on the leather glove and have a bird free fly to our outstretched arm for its meaty treat.  This was an incredible experience.  First, we met a falcon in the barn.

He was very small and we woke him up from his nap so he kept dozing off as he perched.  The falcon was not flying weight which means that he was a bit too well fed and if we put meat on our hands, he would not fly to it.  So while we got to hold him, but we did not get to have him fly for us.  His eyes were covered because they get nervous and he was a little more calm this way.  Just gorgeous.

 

 

 

 

At the end, the falconer took off the mask so we could see his large eyes.  We were told to be still and not startle him.  Check this out.

 

After the falcon it was time to head outside to play with some birds.  The first was a Harris Hawk named Conrad.  Conrad was beautiful.  

 

Here are some quick answers to your questions.

No, the bird is not heavy but even at two pounds, holding your arm out straight for any length of time is tiring.  So the falconer taught us how to pull the bird close and put the arm next to the body to take the strain off.

Yes, they have really big claws that can hurt you. Luckily they are well fed and have no interest in trying to eat us.

No, flying like this is not instinctive behavior.  They are trained to fly to the hand with the meat.  Some birds are easier to train than others.  They all have their own personality.

No, these birds were not taken from the wild.  They were all born in captivity. or rescued

Here are some videos:

 

 

 

 

After we played with Conrad, we worked with a barn owl named Alba.  Again, glorious bird.  The falconer explained that this owl was raised as a baby and has imprinted to the woman who raised it.  That means that Alba thinks he is a person and he is very jealous of other males–human males.  Apparently he gets very feisty with certain men who enter his area.

We were told that owls are a little harder to work with and can fly off on their own just because some tree or sound interests them.  So Alba was on a lead.  Here is a video:

 

 

It was really cold outside and the birds were good sports about coming out but they were cold and so were we.  So after 90 minutes of falconry, we went on our way, back to the hotel spa for some warmth and TLC.

Massages, mimosas, Vermont cheese, a sauna, and a dip in the hot tub outside in the cold were just the thing we needed to end the day.

But what about the sheep?

The front page of the morning paper had the most adorable photo of baby lambs that had just been born at the Billings Farm Museum.  We figured out a way to go see those cuties before we left town.  Just take a look at them in their cute little sweaters.  Adorable.

 

 

 

I have not posted a blog entry for over a year.  Hey, I’m old.  It feels like it was a decade ago.  Then it feels like it was yesterday.  Honestly, I’ve been a little busy.

One thing that is keeping me occupied right now are the polliwogs that are growing in my patio fountain.

It has not been a good season for frogs here.  It warmed up early, they emerged from winter’s sleep, and then it got cold.  I am guessing it hurt the population.  Usually we have a few hopping around outside on the patio and walks.  I was going out every night with the flashlight looking around and could find no one.

Then one night we heard the call from the patio.  Go here and click on Gray Tree Frog.  I ran outside and saw this:  a gray tree frog.

Often I will find these guys sleeping tucked up in the patio umbrella.  When the umbrella is down, they crawl up into the nice cozy cloth and fall asleep clinging to the pole.  They must think the umbrellas are trees. And boy, can they can sing. It is really loud.  We could hear it through the closed window.

I was so excited to see someone.  The next night we heard her again.  I went out with the flashlight and found her halfway submerged in our fountain.  You will see it in the video.  The previous owners built it and it is fun to have.  Water is supposed to come out of the lion’s mouth but honestly, it sounds like someone peeing.  So I stopped using it.  I have a pump with a water aerator attached that makes a nice babbling brook sound.

I had just put algae killer in the water.  Afraid the frog was going to absorb who knows what chemicals, I ran for my trusty net and tried to get her out.  She hopped into the water, swimming around.  I finally netted her and put her in a tree.

A few days later I went to clean the fountain and I saw a clump of clear bubbles with black dots.  I yelled to Matt.  There are frogs eggs!  She laid eggs in the fountain!  A few days later they hatched and about fifty or so tadpoles were swimming around in the water.  They are easily confused with mosquito larvae.  So I checked the font of all knowledge–the internet–to figure out the difference.  What I also learned is that the ph of the water is very important and so is the mineral content.  Of course, I was filling the fountain with tap water and that is not good for frogs.  I was not sure what to do but God came along and helped.

It started to rain. and it rained and it rained.  Fifteen inches worth.  The fountain practically overflowed.  And it was wonderful, natural water from the sky.  My ph/chlorine problem was solved.  But still, not very many tadpoles make it in nature and they slowly disappeared until there were two.  I decided to not clean the fountain because tadpoles eat algae. So I had to let it go.  The internet also told me they will eat lettuce if there is not enough algae. I started throwing spinach into the fountain too.  It has made the water a murky green but that’s okay.  I’ll clean it later.

They are getting so big.  As you can see in the picture, the eyes are prominent and the body is fairly large.  I’ve named them Polli and Wog.  Wog the the friendly one.  He is not afraid of anything.  Polli is smaller and she hides.  They dart around the fountain searching for food.  It is so much fun to watch. If they make it to froghood, I am going to be ecstatic.  I’ll sing Born Free and all that.

Here is a short video.

March flew by.  Matt was sick for a few weeks.  I avoided it.  Mostly it was the routine of life.  There were some highlights.

Matt’s Birthday – On Matt’s Birthday we went to Garrison for dinner.  This is a restaurant we had not tried before.  It has some good reviews so we figured, why not?  They were offering a special smorgasbord and with it they were serving Aquavit (Scandinavian moonshine) which is our downfall. We had a snort. In most restaurants these days, appetizers can be the size of what I consider an entree. So I stuck with appetizers.  The hands down favorite was the chicken liver parfait–chicken liver pate with kumquats.  Delish.  I also had a cheese plate and bison tartare which was surprisingly bland.  Matt had the rabbit tagliatelle entree.  At the end of the evening, I was feeling giddy with good food so I asked for another aquavit.  That was a mistake.  I had a pretty good headache the next day.

Then we went to Obelisk, another restaurant we had always wanted to try, with Matt’s mom.  This is a fixed menu, many courses affair.  The menu changes everyday but it is Italian based food.  We had a cheese plate which was yummy.  We had several appetizers, small tasting plates which disappeared before I could even record them.  I had a mushroom agnolotti, home made pasta of course.

The White Snake – We love the playwright, Mary Zimmerman. She is an imaginative writer and creator who uses stories, folk tales and Greek myths and turns them into great theater.  We have seen Argonautika, Metamorphoses, and Arabian Nights.  A few years ago, we went to Chicago to see her adaptation of The Jungle Book (which just did not work for us.)  So when we see her name as writer, director, creator, we are there.

This play, the White Snake, is based on a Chinese folk tale.  As explained on the Center Stage website:  Originating from the ancient Chinese fable, The White Snake tells the story of animal spirits White Snake and Green Snake, who take human form as a beautiful woman and her sly servant. White Snake soon falls passionately in love with a poor pharmacist’s assistant, but their relationship is reviled by a conservative monk and tragedy lurks behind their newfound happiness.”  Zimmerman told the tale in a modern way, bringing in all kinds of magic with costumes, lighting and music.  Even puppets.  The snakes were played by women who worked with puppets to portray the writhing snakes.  Overall, it was a good play.  Not her greatest work, but it was interesting and that is what we always we expect from her–to be entertained with a good story with words and sets and portrayals that bring out the joy of the story.

 

Most of this month was spent obsessing about Donald Trump or going to funerals.

I am not going to even discussed his orangeness.  He takes up enough of my time.

Two men that I worked with for many years died over the course of two weeks–Charlie Hobbs and Bobo Dean.

I was just getting out of law school with not a job prospect in sight.  My boss at the time, a judge at the local D.C. Court of Appeals, got a call from Charlie asking if he had any good law clerks and the judge recommended me.  I had never heard of Indian law. But I went to the interview to find out what it was about.  He hired me to work on a very big Indian case against the federal government concerning mismanagement of timber owned by Indians in Washington state.  To say our relationship was complicated is not saying enough.  We fought.  A lot.  I was a very volatile and opinionated person.  Charlie valued the opinion but not the volatility.  We produced great work.  Kind of like band members who fight with each other all the time but make great music together because of it.

Charlie was a guy who was willing to hire me when no one else would and I can never thank him enough for that.  So it was very difficult to watch him decline over the years.  Near the end, Matt and I visited him in the hospital several times, just going in to talk with him and cheer him up.  We can be very entertaining.  But he finally succumbed.  I’ll miss you Charlie.  You taught me a lot and the next time I write a sentence that reads, “Not so!” or the next time I refer to “jub jub” I’ll think of you.

As for Bobo, he was the greatest conversationalist in the universe.  I could talk to him all day long.  He was infinitely interesting.  I did not work with him regularly since I was usually working on litigation and he did other things.  But he was a vivid man with a tenacity that I have never experienced since.  He changed Indian law for the better and I hope that people appreciate that.

 

February usually is a lousy month. So we decided to throw a Mardi Gras party.  I spent two days cooking up a New Orleans extravaganza of jambalaya, collards, mac and cheese, muffulettas and an appetizer stuffed with crawfish and cheese.  We had king cake and lots of beads and hats to top it off.  We thank everyone who came, especially my family.  We had fun seeing everyone.  We took some pics before the party started.

Sometimes I get ideas in my head that are just kind of kooky.  A while back I went through my closet and tried on all of my gowns.  As many of you know, Matt and I used to go dancing but we can’t do that anymore so the gowns have collected dust and I wondered if I should keep them.  Well, I had to say goodbye to most of them since my torso has decided that I need to look more like my mother.  I can’t have a closet without at least a few gowns.  You never know. So I started to work on replacing them.

I don’t really spend much on gowns.  I look for sales, clearance, whatever I can.  I’m not that particular and I have purchased more than one gown from the local JC Penneys’ prom rack. No kidding.

This time, I decided to see what came up on Amazon. There I found Honey Qiao.  Honey Qiao is a person, I am going to assume a woman, in China who will create a custom gown for you for about 70 bucks. While you can buy a standard size from her, if you send her your measurements and pick a fabric, she will whip up the dress that is pictured on the page to fit you.  I discovered that there are several such dressmakers on Amazon.  I went with Honey Qiao.

I asked Matt to help me with my measurements.  I had to measure the usual–bust, waist, hips but also arm length, length from collar bone to floor, the distance from shoulder to shoulder, arm hole, and full height.  Off those measurements go to Honey Qiao and she responds within an hour.  She thought that one of my measurements, from collar bone to floor seemed wrong and she asked me to measure it again.  By this time, Matt was sleeping, so I took a stab at it.  It seemed to be the same but she made me nervous so I added an inch.  Her response was, “friend,we got that.we will make the dress for you now.thanks very much for your measurements.”

And a week later, the gown arrived accompanied by a note that read as follows (punctuation per the letter):

I wanna say: Hi there, my dear friend,thank you choose our products,choose me,choose honest.  I am a dress desinger which make the occasion dresses, wedding dresses for 8 years and my family is human hair factory over 30 years old.  This is not an adviertisement but and Introduction about me:) The dress you got , it is sequined fabric with cap sleeved closed by zipper and has a cowl back. before this hot summer,I make this dress with satin lined, with padded. but I got some messages from buyer and they wanted to return dress because they felt too hot,too thick ,hard.uncomfortable.after I got this news,I improve it that very night . and made some new samples with US2 to US24W ,and find 20 girls to wear the new dresses with different sizes.the new dresses,I choose very thin. soft. big elastic lined.  no padded.  here is very hot in China too.after they try them on.  15 girls said feel comfortable did not feel too hot.but 5 girls said a little pain of armpit since there was sequins,so.i put extra soft fabric to cover the sequins under the armpit .and then it is great finally.

since this fabric is made of lots of sequins ,so,maybe sometimes will fall off,and when we cut the fabric ,some sequins was fall off too .just like fabric fibre will fall off too when you cut it. but sequins fabric very popular now,it is sparkly,shinny, this design is modest but not stuffy.

just like : If you love someone,you should accept its everything,includes its faults and weaknesses, just like : love me.love my dog.love this nice dress love my fall off sequins 🙂 lol

i am sorry for bad english .i just want to say,yes,this fabric has its faults .but we love its sparkly,we should accept everything it brings.

but pls do not worry, i accept refund or exchange if you really don’t love it.

your girl friend does not love it, return!

your boy friend does not love it,return!

your baby does not love it,return!

Your dog you cat does not love it.return!

hate it ,just return it !

we make refund so easy   🙂

but…

if you love it.

pls don’t hesitate to leave your best 5 stars reviews in out product websiteand 5 stars good feedback in your order.

And Pls Pls remember contact me if you want give us bad feedback when u met problem, just i can ,i will help u do my best.as you know,i am a new seller here, work hard,i don’t want make buyers disappointment and i hope i can get more suggestions from my buyers and give you more good dresses  .

Thank you for understanding

[She then tells me her contact information on whatsapp and email]

Give my sincerest wishes.

Lily

come from Honey qiao company

 

You have to admit.  That was one adorable letter.  And the dress was gorgeous except for one tiny problem–it was too long!  I should never have changed the length measurement.  It was dragging on the ground.

Well, Honey Qiao did say that if I did not love it for any reason, I could return it right?  But it was my fault.  I gave her the wrong measurement so it would not be fair for me to ask her to take it back.  Instead I emailed her to just say, hey, the dress ended up being too long.  I was hoping she would say, no problem, I’ll fix it.  Yeah, she didn’t.  She said,

“i am sorry to hear that dear.longer is better than shorter .
hehe
i think the dress length should is 56.5 inch .right ?:)

Yeah, she was right.  I gave her that number so it was hard to argue with her.  hehe.

In the end, I took it to the seamstress to be hemmed.  So my $70 gown ended up costing $120.  Did I save money?  Hard to say.  The gown fits like a glove and I would never find that off a rack.  But, as she warned, I do seem to leave a trail of sequins in my wake.  As she instructs, that is a flaw that I have to accept if I love the dress. And I do love the dress.  So lesson learned.  Never listen to Honey Qiao when she questions the measurements my husband gives me and accept whatever she produces, flaws and all.  Now all I need is a place to wear this bombshell thing to.

 

 

I am going to try, really try to keep up with a blog because for the almost two years I did not keep one regularly I lost track of my life.  So good riddance to 2016.  You really sucked.  So here goes 2017:

New Year’s Eve

We went to China Chilcano for New Year’s Eve.  We had been to this restaurant once before and loved the Peruvian fusion food.  First, I love Peruvian food because it involves potatoes and chilis.  Second, I love pisco sours, which is a Peruvian drink made with pisco, a Peruvian brandy made from grapes.  The Piscos were part of the dinner package, all I could drink.  So this seemed like a great place to have a New Year’s Eve dinner. Wrong.

The food was so-so, which really surprised us.  But even worse, the music was so loud, that we literally could not hear each other and we were writing notes back and forth on a tablet.  I suppose if I texted, we would have been texting across the table.   Even though we had reservation for the midnight toast, we were practically running for the door by 11:30.  Does this make us old?  I don’t know but I vowed that we are not going out for New Year’s Even ever again.   I’d prefer to sit in my basement and watch movies.  As Louis C.K. says, (and he is my philosopher king) it is really a meaningless moment.  It is a mental construct. All that happened is that day turned into night and night turned into day.  A new year is just the next day.

January 1, 2017 – The Day After

I had one too many piscos but I forced myself to exercise anyway.  Then I spent the day cooking a leg of lamb and fava bean puree, a Puglian staple that is kind of like but not really hummus.  We fell in love with it on our trip to Italy.  Then Matt taught me how to play Yahtzee.  I remember when I was a kid I thought it was an old person’s game.  I guess I was right.

January 5, 2017 – Wicked.  

We went to see Wicked at the Kennedy Center.  I have to admit, I am not a fan of The Wizard of Oz.  I am not sure I ever made it through the movie.  When I was a kid I was not into musicals and that movie has a lot of singing and dancing.  I’d get bored and move on.  Matt loved the movie as a kid and he had the Frank Baum books so I read them.  I was not too crazy about them either and to be honest, I never absorbed the story line. Wizards, good witches, bad witches.  Meh.   So when Matt said he wanted to see Wicked, I kind of groaned and reluctantly said okay.

Well, it was GREAT!  I did not know the story line at all so I was going in with no expectations whatsoever.  Why is the wicked witch evil?  Is she really evil or is it a plot? What is the back story?  Too much fun.  The two women playing Glinda and Elphaba were fantastic singers and also pretty gosh darn hilarious.  The set was fun, the costumes outrageous, the music soaring but not pompous.  We just enjoyed it immensely.  I cannot say I am a fan of the Wizard of Oz, but I am a fan of Wicked.  if it is coming to your town, go and see it!

January 11 – Hockey

Went to see the Pens play the Caps.  We lost!  in fact, we sucked completely.  Gosh, I hate that.  We need revenge.

January 14 – Louis C.K. at DAR.

I’ll be honest, I had no idea who Louis C.K. was.  (I am oblivious about a lot of things.  Hey, I’m busy.)  But we have Netflix and I suggested we check out his sitcom, Louis.  Oh my God!  I love that man.  He is hilarious, insightful, philosophical.  I call him my philosopher king.  He reminds me a bit of George Carlin just in terms of tackling hard topics and making it all seem so funny.  At this show, which he recorded, he talked about such fun topics as abortion, suicide, and the fact that if you utter the words Jesus Christ with the wrong intention, you end up in hell.  Yeah, he made all of that funny. I’d see him again in a heartbeat.

January 20  [____I am pretending this did not just happen___________]

A day I cannot discuss. But no, I did not go downtown to protest.  When I saw the hooligans were out, I decided to stay home.

January 21 – The Women’s March on Washington

Oh, yeah.  You know we went to this.  But we never actually got to the rally itself.  Way, way, way too many people.  We came off the subway, got directed down a side street that was parallel and a block from the stage and from there did not get anywhere near the action.  We wanted to get to the handicapped area and by the time we did, it was packed with people.

So we decided that Matt would set up his chair on the sidewalk and we would watch the crowd streaming off the subway.  In that sense, the march went right by us.  People are so clever.  There were clever signs, street theater, puppets (I love the puppets) and just thousands of people happily marching.  Good times.

Here are some pics.  Keep in mind.  This is on a side street coming off the subway.  They are trying to get to the actual march which is blocks away.  Lucky for us, they marched to the march:

 

 

_________________________________________

January 28 – Caroline, or Change

We have been going to a lot of theater this past year and Tony Kushner has been big on our list.  Who is Tony Kushner?  One of our best living playwrights.  He wrote Angels in America and if you have not seen that extravaganza on HBO, you need to sit down and take it in.  A play about the beginning of the AIDS epidemic, Al Pacino goes full out as Roy Cohn.  Meryl Streep and Emma Thompson join in to wow us with their acting with both playing multiple characters.   It is a two part play so it takes two days to see.  Back in November, we spent two nights and almost seven hours watching it live.  It was fantastic to see.  The actors have to go all out for the play and they did it at Roundhouse.

Tonight we saw Caroline, or Change, a musical about civil rights in 1960s Louisiana.  Caroline is a maid for a Jewish household.  Based on Kushner’s life, it is about the relationship between the maid and the young Jewish boy.  But it is also about the nascent civil rights movement and Caroline’s frustration with her lot in life.  The music is varied from soul to opera. The things surrounding Caroline–the Washing Machine, the Dryer, the Radio and the Moon–are all represented by in the cast.  The Moon sings opera.  The Radio is a Supremes-like girl trio.  The Washing Machine is kind of like Bessie Smith and the Dryer is like Paul Robeson.  Really all quite entertaining.  Kushner creates complex narratives that run the gamut of human emotion and ambivalence.  Plus, he wrote a song that uses the word “pogrom” as part of a rhyme.  That just kills me.

 

Back in April, the Kennedy Center announced that it was going to give Bill Murray the Mark Twain Prize for Humor.  I got it in my head that, gosh darn it, I want to go and see this.  Why do all the hoity-toity types get to go to these kinds of galas and we peons have to stay home?  So I thought about it and figured that if I join the Kennedy Center I’d have a chance to get the tickets early.  Wrong.  I was way down on the category of members who had a chance at the tickets.  I logged in on the day they were to go on sale for me and I saw something like four seats available.  I hit refresh and they were gone.

Undeterred, I decided to find the tickets on-line.  Clickety clickety clickety and voila, I found them.  The price was high, not exorbitant, so I bought them.  Hey, it’s Bill Murray.  I love that guy.

Bill is a Cubs fan and there was a great deal of concern that if the Cubs had to play a Game 7 on its way to the World Series, he was not going to show up.  But the Cubs won and Bill came. He is there with his family in the balcony set off by the red curtain. We were sitting across from them so we could see every reaction he had.

Matt wore his black tie tux and I wore a gown.  Boy, were we overdressed.  I could not believe how casually people were dressed.  Some people were in jeans.  Whatever, I like wearing gowns.  

We had pretty good seats, way up in the balcony but no one in front of us, so we could see clearly.

There were stars testifying to Murray’s wonderfulness:  David Letterman, Sigourney Weaver, Miley Cyrus (for God’s sakes, what a mess she is), director Ivan Reitman (Ground Hog Day), Jimmy Kimmel and others.  Bill was funny.  He was clearly uncomfortable getting an award. When he gave his speech, he was trying to understand why everyone said he was beloved and he wondered what that means.  What it means is that we simply enjoy watching him do what he does best.  We watch his movies, no matter what they are, because we find that in the end, he is interesting even if the movie may not be. So we had lots of fun and we saw Bill Murray get his prize.

Arthur is our guard toad.  He is just so adorable. He comes to our porch almost every night and sits on the stoop. The cats keep an eye on him from behind the door but he does not seem to mind.  When I see him, I go outside and say hello and he says, “Reporting for duty, ma’am. No intruders to report.”  (We have a constant made up dialogue with our wildlife.)  He started appearing a few months ago.  He disappeared for a few weeks and I was so sad.  But then he came back and is his old warty self.  I swear I could take his picture every day.  Look at that face!

Last night, he brought a tree frog friend who has climbed the glass storm door.  Here he is. from both sides.  He doesn’t have a name.  Yet.

 

People who live in the tropics are so lucky.  They get the exotic fruits that we can only imagine.  A few years ago, Matt and I traveled to Sri Lanka.  It was there we discovered and indulged in passion fruit.  I think it is an acquired taste,  a complex combination of passion flower (you can often find sachets and scented potpouri in passion flower) tart lime, and sweet orange.  It has a zing to it and if you do not like tart fruits, this would not be for you.  But for us, it is heaven.

When we were in Sri Lanka, our guide convinced the bartender to make a drink of passion fruit juice and arak, the local liquor.  We downed quite a few one night in a restaurant much to the annoyance of the bartender who did not know he was going to have to juice fruit all night.

On the outside passion fruit are kind of ugly.  They are about the size of an extra large egg and have a hard outer skin that shrinks and wrinkles as the fruit ripens.  They end up looking a bit like oversized prunes.  The more wrinkled they are, the sweeter and juicier they are.  You have to cut them open with a knife and when you do, you find a surprise inside.  A bit of pulp seeds and juice.  Very precious little.  Perhaps a few tablespoons. So if you are going to eat them as say a dessert or an a snack, you would need about five or six.  And it does not look all that appetizing so you are wondering, huh?  You are eating snot?  No, trust me. That is a gob of sweet tart delight.

 

In the States, passion fruit is ridiculously expensive so they must be good right?  You might find them in a very large grocery store for $2.50 each.  Yikes!  $2.50 for about two tablespoons of pulp?  For that kind of money, they better be the best passion fruit ever.  So we sit around longing for them.  Matt might buy a few in the middle of winter.

But now I have discovered I need not wait for that moment.  I signed up for a website called Local Harvest.  It puts consumers in direct touch with farms.  Here is the hilarious part.  “Local” it is not.  I can sit here in Maryland and order fruit from California and honey from Florida.  I am buying it without the middle man and I suppose there is some valor in that. But it is not like I am getting food from the local market or pick your own farm.

Local Harvest sends me email alerts.  I try to toss them in the trash so I am not tempted but one day I opened it and there it was–passion fruit for sale.  God bless California farms.  I had no idea we grew passion fruit in the U.S. and I sure had no idea I could have them mailed to my door step.  The cost?  About a dollar a piece, half of what the grocery store charges. No question, I immediately ordered some.  I went a little nuts and ordered from two farms, 30-40 in each box.  So 80 passion fruit were on the way!

I could not wait for them to get here.  And now they are here and I am trying to pace myself.  Pacing sucks.  I swear I could sit down and eat ten or fifteen no problem.  But I try to limit myself to five or six so as not to commit the deadly sin of gluttony.  Stupid deadly sins!

Then I got on-line to find passion fruit recipes.  Of course you can find them in desserts but what about entrees?  I figured fish would be the key–tropical and often paired with fruit.  Bingo.  I found about six recipes for fish with passion fruit sauce.  This is a very popular dish in South America.  Was it good?

Yes, it was yummy.  It was passion fruit pulp cooked with red onion garlic and then processed into a sauce with fresh cilantro.  It went perfectly with fish and rice.  I hope this does not turn into a habit.

This was the note I wrote to myself after were returned from not seeing Bob Dylan.  Well, we saw him alright, but I insisted we leave after he croaked out his first song.  I say “croaked” kindly.  I stomped off to the car, muttering, or not just muttering but loudly proclaiming to the only person who would listen, my husband, that the guy just needs to retire.  I was really angry. Here is why.

I have loved Bob Dylan forever.   When I was in elementary school  we sang Bob Dylan folk songs like “Blowin in the Wind” during music class.  He was right there with Woody Guthrie and “This Land is Your Land,” as it was meant to be. During the Golden Age of Radio, before music was sliced into smaller and smaller niche marketing categories, Bob Dylan’s “Like a Rolling Stone” played along side Nancy Sinatra singing, “These Boots are Made for Walkin'” and we were okay with that.  Bob was always there singing songs we all came to know, inserted into out DNA.  (Thankfully, Nancy eventually disappeared.)  You really could not miss his music.

But he really came into my consciousness when I was in high school and then college.  I played Blood on the Tracks and Desire over and over again.  I’d leave the arm up on the stereo and the record just looped (I don’t think that anyone under 40 understands what I just said.)  Six hours later, we would realize that the same album had been playing all day.

The mid ’70’s was a very productive time for Dylan.  His marriage fell apart and there was all that pain and anguish that had to be digested. In my opinion, Blood on the Tracks is still his best record.  He will never produce anything as perfect ever again.  Then came Desire.  Then Bob found Jesus, another life changing moment for him, and he put out some terrific gospel records.  Those three records–Slow Train Coming, Saved and Shot of Love–could not have been more fun and original.  People hated that he had gone religious but I did not care. If that is where Bob was, fine with me so long as it produced great music.   I embraced it.  I sat in the front row for his Slow Train Coming Tour and there was Bob dripping sweat on me as he testified along with his gospel singers. On my visits home for a weekend, I’d convince my mom to skip church on Sunday and we’d listen to Dylan’s gospel records instead. Neither one of us was very religious and it was a great excuse to stay home listening to good music.  I still love those records.  “Pressing On” has got to be one of my favorite songs of all time.

Then somewhere along the line Bob and I parted ways.  I am a tough critic.  If a record is not great, then I feel free to complain, particularly in Bob’s case.  He put out one or two okay records but for me the late 80’s early 90’s were a bust.  He played withe the Dead and I was okay with that.  I was a Deadhead at the time, so I went with it.  He was part of the Traveling Wilburys, and how could you not love that?  I believe I saw him in concert at some point during this time period at the Frederick County Fair, which kind of blew my mind.  The County Fair?  Really?  Yep, there he was, strumming away and, shockingly, not too many people were interested.  He had kind of fallen off the radar.

Finally, in 1997 he released Time Out of Mind.  It took more than a decade but it was a great record. Why?  Broken heart.  When someone breaks his heart, all of the pain and heartache and feelings pour out and it is just beautiful.  But his voice was really not there.  Daniel Lanois did a great job of hiding it, but he does not sound great on that record.  Look, he never had a great voice, but this was nasal sandpaper.

I believe that this record prompted me to see him in concert again, although my expectations were not high.  In case you are not in the loop, since the 1990’s Bob Dylan has been on a never ending tour.  Literally.  He tours.  This is what he does.  He is never not on the road. So it is really easy to see him.  Just wait and like the swallows returning to Capistrano, Bob will be back.  He tends to show up around here in November near my birthday.  So we went.   He was playing with Joni Mitchell.  She was great.  Bob, well, not so much. The songs he sang were incomprehensible.  Did I see him play the greatest hits?  I suppose so, but it is hard to say.  He had changed the rhythm of the songs and his voice was so bad it was almost painful to listen to.  He mumbled his words.  He could have been reciting the telephone book for all I know.  He really was just terrible.  After that show I said, I don’t ever what to see him again.  It just is not worth it.  I am not paying to see him just because he is Bob Dylan.  I’d rather remember him in his glory.

I stuck with it, avoiding his concerts, just not caring anymore.  He put out a Christmas record, which was awful.  He put out a record singing the standards.  Oh my, just give it up, Bob!  Bob, you cannot sing anymore!  But no matter what he puts on a record, some critic somewhere says, hey, it’s not so bad.  Wrong. It is so bad.

Then a few months ago, I see that Mavis Staples will be in concert at Wolf Trap.  Mavis.  I’ve never seen her.  This is great.  Let’s go!  Uh oh.  She is opening for Bob Dylan.  Seeing her will violate my vow to not see Dylan in concert.  Well, it’s for a good cause.  So we buy the tickets to see Mavis.  Bob will happen to be there too.

On concert day there are a lot of people there with their kids, clearly bringing them to see the legend himself.  There are also a lot of old people like me, long time fans.  Mavis is great of course.  Then comes Bob.  The harsh gravel throat that sounds like he needs to clear it of about five years of tobacco tar and phlegm,  the growls, the failure to find a note, any note, the mumbling, it is all there, but even worse!

I just became enraged!  Here are all these people paying good money and for what?  To see a legend that can no longer perform.  It is kind of like people going out to see a museum piece.  People just want to say I saw and heard Bob Dylan perform.  And there is nothing wrong with that.  What is wrong is Dylan pretending that this is what he is giving people.  Would there not be more dignity in finding what he can do and do that?  How about a talk?  How about reading his songs as poetry.  Anything but “sing.”

Think of it like this.  Would it have been great to see a great baseball player, mabe Hank Aaron swing a bat?  Absolutely.  But would you have wanted to see him try it at age 70 if couldn’t even see the ball let alone hit a fly?  Hank did the right thing and showed up at autograph shows, had people pay him for his signature, they had the ability to say they met him, and he made a couple of bucks.  He did not embarrass himself trying to be something he was no longer and people could remember him as he was at his best.

Dylan?   I don’t want to remember him like this.  I understand he is who he is but at some point, you have to hang it up.  What about the kids who came to see him?  They are seeing someone trying to perform far from their prime and what will they take away from it?  Either that it was great to see Dylan or what in the world was that about?  Why is he a legend again?

Well, I once again vow, never again.  One day Bob will pass away and I will be very sad.  But probably sadder because in his later life, he couldn’t seem to find a new way to connect with me.