The Genesis Of A Porch

I always wanted a house with a great front porch. I had images in my mind of me, sitting on the front porch. Listening to the sounds of nature. Perhaps enjoying a drink with my beloved, with our cute dog sitting at our feet. Cheesy? Yes, but a girl can dream right? So I figured I was home free when not only did I find a great house, but it had a great porch. Porch? Check. Beloved? Check. Sounds of nature? Well, I don't know if drills from the construction down the street count, but we'll go with yes. Dog? Check. Well it turns out its hard to sit on the porch when you don't have furniture! I was never one for Indian-style on the play mats at school, much less on my own damn porch. Who knew finding a porch would be the easy part? Finding porch furniture that I 1. liked and 2. could afford, would be way harder than any other part of the gauzy, soft lit dream.

It turns out on the 8th day God created Target. And he looked upon his creation and said "Let there be good looking, affordable porch furniture." Pictures for your pleasure.

The Doggie Diaries

Part Three: The Graduate

We made it! Ripken is a certified basic obedience graduate! I'm actually pretty impressed with his progress. I think beagles are way smarter than people give them credit for. They didn't give us rankings or anything, but I picked up on Shannon the Trainer's subliminal message that Ripken was the main man in class. No. Really. He was. Take my word for it. Here are some pictures from graduation.
Here Ripken demonstrates his down/stay. Notice the ball Shannon the Trainer tried rolling at him to break him. Please, lady. You're going to have to come with something stronger than that to break the Iron Horse.

Ripken and I work on our sit/stays. Notice the focus. The stamina. Ok, you can't tell the stamina from the picture, but take my word for it. He held the stay. For Evvvveerrr.

Our happy class! Everyone passed with flying colors. Well, not like Ripken's flying colors, but you get the idea.

A Good Time Was Had By All

Well we had a super duper successful tailgate this weekend. Everyone had a great time, we had a great turnout, and we raised over $800! Fighting breast cancer, and having fun?! A Win-Win for everyone involved.

...and yes loyal readers, there are left over koozies!

...A Few of My Favorite Things

I found a new recipe on the Washington Post’s recipe finder that combined two of my favorite things: Bloody Mary’s and Burgers. Surprisingly it turned out pretty tasty! I cooked mine on my fancy-dancy grill pan from William Sonoma and we used the extra glaze as our ketchup. The Half Street Chief Recipe Critic (HSCRC going forward) gives it 7 1/2 forks (out of 10). Enjoy!


Bloody Mary Burger
Ingredients:
For the burgers
· 1 1/2 pounds ground beef, preferably chuck or sirloin
· 1 1/2 tablespoons ketchup
· 1/2 teaspoon A few dashes hot pepper sauce, such as Tabasco
· 2 teaspoons Worcestershire sauce
· 1/2 teaspoon prepared horseradish
· 1/2 teaspoon celery salt
· Freshly ground black pepper
For the glaze
· 1/4 cup ketchup
· A few dashes hot pepper sauce, such as Tabasco
· 1/4 teaspoon Worcestershire sauce
Directions:
For the burgers: In a large bowl, combine the burger ingredients. Be careful not to overwork the meat; mix just enough to combine. Divide the mixture into 6 portions and form each into a patty about 3/4 inch thick.
For the glaze: In a small bowl, combine the glaze ingredients and set aside.
Saute or grill burgers 4 to 5 minutes. Turn the burgers over and brush cooked side with the glaze. Cook second side to desired doneness, 4 to 5 minutes for medium.

The Doggy Diaries

Part Two: Out of The Groomer into the Frying Pan

Ok first off, loyal readers...you guys either failed to notice, or failed to point out that the first installment of "The Doggy Diaries" was actually "The Doggy Dairies." Come on guys! I was errrrr, testing you. Did you think we were going to write about Rip's love of milk?! Come on, stay with me. It's corrected now, you all fail. Moving on.

Well, I was really struggling to come up with something to write for this second installment, and then the Rip-ster went and solved it for me. Today was Ripken's first trip to the groomer. After years of seeing our childhood dogs being traumatized by having their nails clipped, and all too familiar knowledge of Kwik Stop, it was just easier to pay someone to take care of it for us. It was a very painless process, for me at least. The location is close to the house, and I can drop off my saber-nailed, slightly ripe dog at lunch and pick up a spiffy almost new pup, with nails that no longer tippy-tap on the hardwoods right after work. I should have known it was too good to be true!
When we got home, Ripken was unusually restless. I figured it was because he was wondering where Dad was, and opened the door when he started barking at it. I then sat down to come up with what I was going to write for my second edition of the Diaries. It was only the second week and already I was struggling with something interesting to tell you guys about Ripken. Time elapses, I think nothing of it. Next thing I know, I call Ripken in from the yard and he tears in like he's being chased by a pack of wild cats (not out of the question in our neighborhood). At first I was enthused over his eager obedience to our newly learned commands. But upon closer inspection, its more likely because he knew he was paw deep in trouble. He was muddy. Not just muddy, but an unprecedented level of muddiness caked his paws. He NEVER does this, or should I say, had never done this. I know, I know. He's a Beagle. Beagle's dig. I get it. But he decides to discover this gene on the day he first goes to the groomer? Today of all days, he chooses to go dig in the muddy yard like he's on the scent of the Holy Grail? Plus does he HAVE to jump on my favorite H&M skirt, quickly followed by the seen-better-days couch. Seriously Ripken? Today? Fresh from the groomer? No Dad to help me out? Can't you cut your Mom some slack?

What Mom Wants...

..Mom gets! She asked for pictures so here are some. We got a new camera a couple weeks ago, and here are some shots we've captured with it lately. They cover The Lee's annual Good Friday Crawfish Boil, Beer Bike, and some random puppy shots. Enjoy!

The Smell-O-Net

The internet is a pretty cool place. There is no shortage of interesting things to find on it, and I frequently find myself wondering what we did before it. Today though, I thought of something I'd like the guys at Microsoft to start working on, or maybe Apple since this seems more their style. I need a scratch and sniff internet right now. If I had this function, I would send into cyberspace the most amazing scent that is wafting through my yard. That's right, the jasmine is in full bloom, and there are no words I can put around this delightful aroma.
The desire for a smell-o-net, brought up a strange memory that I hadn't thought of in years. I have a vague memory from my childhood of striking out from our home in Fairfax and heading to Baltimore. One of the things we did while touring the city was go to a place called the Power Station. It was an arcade type place with a variety of kid friendly attractions. 99.9% of it was entirely forgettable, except for one huge part: The Sensorium. It was basically a movie with all these extra features, 3 of which stick out in my mind very vividly: 1. There was a 3-D element to it, verrrry cool for a kid my age 2. The seats moved at different parts of the movie, corresponding to what was taking place and last but by no means least 3. There were these things under the seats that piped various smells into the theater, also corresponding to the movie. I think I was 9 or 10 when we went to this sense extravaganza and at the time, I certainly thought it was the coolest thing ever. Sitting in the dark, all my senses being assualted at the same time, giggling and enjoying a good old fashioned family time. Those were most certainly the good ol' days. Now I'm 28, and I still think it was pretty darn cool. Alas, a quick search of the internet proves that it no longer exits and that not very many remember it any longer. Do you guys? Maybe I could contact the creator and figure out a way to send this jasmine scent to you. Trust me, its worth it!

The Doggie Diaries

Part One: The Gentle Cheater

I am a fraud. A total cheat. And what’s worse is that I’m being encouraged in my dishonest ways by my dog trainer. Part of it I think is my own fault. I can’t get over the image in my mind of training our corgi’s growing up. We had the nicest lady, Mrs. Knox, who taught her classes in a horse stable. All the trainee’s would be in this long line. Mom was always the handler, but I’d tag along and watch- interested in all the various techniques employed to make the darn puppy do what you wanted it to. Of course with all the other dogs, handlers, and horse manure around, I imagine the dogs were totally impervious to what their owner wanted them to do. Mrs. Knox was great though. Very nice but I wouldn’t want to mess around on her time. I frequently got the feeling that she believed her doggie clients had more potential than their human owners.
Fast forward to today, when I’m my OWN dog owner, attending my own training classes. There is even a little girl that tags along with her mom, just like I used to, although it’s a nice air conditioned room, not a stable. Our trainer is very nice too, but I’m not convinced she knows what to do with my beagle. Or more importantly, what to tell ME to do with my beagle. (Here comes the cheating bit.) Last week was a disaster as far as training goes. Rip wouldn’t listen no matter what I said, tone I used, or lamb loaf I tempted him with. I stuck around after to see if she had any special pointers. She did. It was called the Gentle Leader.
Ripken’s main “problem” is that he is a scent hound. Its not really a problem, so much a fact of life and we knew it when we got him. He pulls his leash when he’s on a scent trail, which is always. No really. Its like the cartoon dog that follows his nose right off a cliff. I’m quite sure Ripken would follow his into the Grand Canyon if I let him. It doesn’t really bother me that much, but apparently it’s a big No-No in the dog obedience world. Enter the Gentle Leader. It’s a special collar that hooks around his nose and neck and pretty much forces him to do my bidding. I haven’t tried yet, but I think he would make me a margarita, on the rocks, with salt, if so commanded on this thing. Its great. But it feels like I’m CHEATING. What ever happened to hard work and perseverance? Whatever happened to the old fashioned method? You know the one where I just kept at it, till Ripken finally figured out I was the leader of his pack? (which would have been the first of never-uary at the pace we were going). Isn’t this against the rules? Not to mention Ripken hates it. One second he’s a bounding puppy full of energy and love, the next he’s like Stepford puppy-waiting for me to show him the line so he can fall in. It kind of depresses me.
We have class tonight, so I’m reserving final judgement till then. I guess I can stick with the Gentle Cheater, er Leader, if it makes a huge difference in class. Otherwise I might accidentally leave it in his kennel so he can show it who the REAL leader of our pack is.

I am going to try to make Tuesday’s going forward “Doggie Diary” day. Lets face it, Rip is the most steady form of entertainment in my life (excluding L of course), so he probably deserves at least once a week. Much more than that though, and I might as well rename this page “The Busy Beagle.”

Blah

Preface: Go ahead and sign up for the washingtonpost.com. The subscription is free, quick and easy and they don't overwhelm you with spam (ahem Dallas Morning News). Trust me its worth your time...not just for this blog either, although I'm biased. This entry is lengthy and not very flashy, back to the regular stuff tomorrow.

I can’t lie, I have the blahs. Its not me, it’s the weather. I am allergic to the cold, and not just physically either. It always affects my mental status, so I guess it’s a good thing I live in a place where it is short lived.
Evidence of my state of blah is everywhere, including right here. Its not that I haven’t had time to blog, its just that I haven’t had any inclination to. No shortage of material either. We had a great day off on Friday, with a great crawfish boil, hosted by great friends. A productive Saturday where I finished my cascarones, and had a date night. And even a great Easter, with an indoor cascarone fiasco, that wont soon be forgotten by James and Brandy (mainly because of the immense amount of confetti in their houses). I just haven’t felt like doing anything but the bare minimum. I completely blame it on the weather. I thought spring had sprung, but nooooo, it was a tease. Even my jasmine began to bloom before being scared back into the buds by a blast of cold weather chilly for January, much less April on the Half Street.
With all of this in mind I bring you a story that would snap you out of even the deepest weather induced funk. Well, I don’t really bring it so much as Gene Weingarten of the Washington Post does. Apparently it was on the cover of the Washington Post Magazine this weekend (the fact that I have to read it online is almost depressing enough to cause another funk-but I digress). The premise is this: if a world renowned musician was playing in front of you, would you know it? Would you care? Would you stop 3 seconds to absorb the sound, or would you just walk on, oblivious of the talent that was surrounding you?
I love this story for so many reasons. I love that the best violinist in the world was nervous before playing at a METRO station. I love that the guy who gave him 3 bucks later joked he should feel free to put it toward the price of the Stradivarius. I love that the one girl that recognized him, parked herself DIRECTLY in front of him and STILL no one noticed! And lastly I love that they point out that kids always wanted to stop to listen. Its not that I think they recognized the level of the performance that was taking place, its just that they still had time to be interested in it. They are blissfully unaware of cold weather blahs.
I like to believe I would have stopped. I think those that know me would confirm this. After all, this is the girl that turns off the radio and rolls down the windows to hear the occasional street musician that plays on this random corner by my house. Random because its not really a well traveled area or very centralized and has very little foot traffic which leads me to believe he's not in for the panhandling. But then again, maybe he just doesn't understand the finer points of life as street sax player. Who am I to judge. I know me on my way to work. It's not out of the question that, in the case of the DC "street musician" I wouldn't even hear the music, much less have the presence of mind to notice that the music was uhhhhhhhh, shall we say above average? But all of this is irrelevant. The point is this: Now that you've read it, there is no excuse. Stop. Listen. Don't rush by. Work can wait, that guy could be worth listening to.

PS-Resist the temptation to read the transcript of the online discussion that took place regarding the article-as it ruins the spirit of the experiment. Some people in this world, especially it seems washingtonpost.com readers, take themselves entirely too seriously. To be offended by such an interesting, HARMLESS, experiment is surely a sign that you are wound too tight.

April is the Month of the Military Child, and as a proud one myself (not to mention the Godmother of a very beautiful one), I think we should all pause in recognition of these smallest heroes. At no time since World War II have more children been separated from a parent serving overseas, an estimated 700,000 under the age of 5. The sacrifices that these children make will never be understood by the majority of us that benefit from the work that their parents do. I thankfully never had to experience this firsthand, but every military brat knows that it is always a possibility.
I never thought it was a coincidence that many of my closest friends growing up were children of service men and women, active duty and retired, covering ALL branches. Even then there was a shared sense of understanding that our world was somehow different. I imagine this sense of community will only grow stronger as we ask more and more of our loved ones in uniform. I don’t know about you, but I for one plan on doing everything I can to support all of them…but most especially this one.

In related news: I’ve always believed that Sesame Street has been on the forefront of the ever changing needs of children, so news that a special about deployment was released a few years ago did not surprise me. Apparently Elmo’s dad is a reservist; who knew?

The 3 Day Ball Is Rolling

It's official: 3 Day season is upon us. You know what that means blog readers...that's right, time to get out your check books!



This weekend at the Beer Bike that wasn't, we put the finishing touches on the team. There is nothing like convincing a friend to do something, after they've had a few drinks. So we've now exceeded our goal for team members with 7. We need an extra to make it an even number, or the short straw is going to have to share a tent with a stranger. NOT IT!



We are having our first fundraiser on April 21st. Kim came up with a great idea of doing a baseball tailgate. I was all for it because I've always wanted to use the slogan "Save Second Base" so it all ties together nicely! We tapped some friends at Chick-Fil-A for food, and other friends at beer companies for free kegs, plus we ordered some super cute koozies so I think it will be a great time.



Next up, mass emails begging for moolah. Brace yourself.



You might notice this post is kind of link heavy...I hope that encourages you to click away and contribute!

Special Guest Blogger

Today's special guest blogger is Ripken Martinez.

Hi folks! Ripken here, just wanting to give a special shout out to my girl Lily in Norfolk. I got the package you sent this week and I'm LOVIN' my new handkerchief and all the other cool toys you sent! It's especially funny to hear mom call it a scarf, and dad correct her 'he's a dude honey, its not a scarf.' Anyway, thanks again for the pressies. Can't wait for you to come visit. I'll show you all my favorite spots in the house to have an 'accident' and where my mom hides her socks. I hear you love socks too-sounds like a match made in heaven.

Licks and hugs,

Ripken

woof.

Weekend Re-Cap

The weekend started out like a traditional Beer Bike Weekend. Friday night Lawrence and I went to Valhalla to meet Kim & Corey for Happy Hour, before the baseball game. We had a great time, made even better by the Owls win over Marshall. Then we headed over to the traditional Rice reunion spot, The Marquis. Total dive bar (despite recent improvements), but always packed with people you haven't seen in a while and want to catch up with. Good times were had by all.
Saturday morning however, started out with some tragic news. As we were getting ready to leave the house, we got a phone call that Beer Bike had been canceled. A junior at Baker college had passed away. Out of respect Baker, followed by the rest of the colleges, withdrew from the race cancelling Beer Bike. Since it didn't feel appropriate to be on campus, Jen and JC offered their house up for all the out of town and in town people to gather at. We had a good time visiting with friends, old and new.
We were pretty tuckered out Sunday, so we laid low. I ran some Easter errands, started working on my cascarones, and cleaned up the TIVO a bit. This week should be a bit slower than last, and is a short week since we get Good Friday off. Obedience school, football game, and a Good Friday crawfish boil. Ok...maybe it won't be slow after all!