Stats

In drafting up a post the other night, I noticed this little tab "Stats."  Stats brings to mind shuttering looks and murmurs of "oh no, not stats 601/602."  The dreaded graduate level stats class.  You'd think, given my job, that I'd like stats (or at least math).  I something didn't get the "stats gene."  Nope.  Stats ranks up there with geometry.   Although in fairness to geometry, if I'd had a different teacher I probably would have liked it a lot better.  Now calculus, that was my favorite.  My calc teacher (Mr. Smith) was great.  He really cared about his students.  He took the "Stand and Deliver" method of teaching.  Even had us watch it during class.  I think he was the reason I did well enough on my AP exam to actually get out of taking more than 1 semester in math as an undergrad.  By the time I got to grad school, my advisor was uninterested in me actually taking any classes ("gets in the way of your lab work"), and since my curriculum was up to my committee (and he was the chair of said committee), I didn't take but a few semesters of coursework.  Stats 601/602 was omitted for the more friendly biostats for clinicians.  Open book, too.  I went so far as to buy the Cartoon Guide to Statistics.  Oddly enough, I was actually looking for it the other day when I had a stats question after reading a paper.  Believe it or not, it did the trick.  Although I'm pretty sure my question wasn't all that complicated.

As to the "Stats" tab....upon clicking it, I discovered people in the Philippines, Latvia (yes, Latvia), and even Poland were looking at my blog.  I'm thinking it was because they clicked on the random "next blog" link on Blogger.com.  Wonder where it's going to report next?

A final touch

ES and I re-did our downstairs bathroom this past year, including new fixtures, a faucet, and paint.  What we didn't do was find new lighting.  There's some things I don't like to do.  This includes wiring new fixtures in the house.  We'd put off a new light for quite awhile, but finally took the plunge, watched some e"how" videos, and decided it looked easy enough (famous last words??)....

Stay tuned.  Fixture installation this weekend along with a final garden bed clean out.  Been putting it off, but as the weather is cooling this is the best time to try and tackle it.

Backyard Reno(vation)

After a couple of summers of looking at the one corner of the yard and saying how we need to do something with it, we finally decided it was time for a change.  What we thought would be an easy job, turned out to be a 1-plant removal a weekend job - usually a 3+ hour process complete with rock and root removal.  The original owner planted things that while appropriate for xeroscaping, were grouped in with those that were not.  The sprinklers didn't discriminate between them and our yucca was pretty much rotten by the time we removed it.

As you can see, ES loves the old corner....Note most of the old plants (including the corner yucca) had gotten a major haircut.  This still didn't make the area any more palatable (and the yucca any healthier) so out they came....

We decided on replacing the  area with roses.  They grow well here and I love having fresh flowers in the house.  The final one went in this afternoon.  Now we just have to put in the other two rebar poles for the other glass bird baths and we're done.

Our next DIY outside....the rest of the fence.  Still trying to decide between cedar and PVC.  Pros and cons to both.  Cost may ultimately win.....

Just a gigolo...

My uncle and cousin recently came stayed with us as part of a "broad" (rhymes with road) trip between my cousin's college graduation and a potential new job. We lingered over dinner, with lots of stories of family and politics.  One of my favorite stories was about my uncle and my great aunt - MH.   She never married (others would referred to her as a "maiden aunt"), but had 20+ nieces and nephews to dote on when she was younger.  She owned a jewelry company and often went on buying trips.  I recall my mom saying she'd taken her and my aunt to NYC on a buying trip.  They skated at Rockefeller Center and did all the usual touristy things.

During dinner the other evening, my uncle told another travel story.  My great-aunt was on a buying trip to England.  My uncle, having been in Europe traveling a bit after he graduated from college, came to London to meet up with her for a few days.  She was staying at The Dorchester, still a pretty tony hotel to this day.  She took my uncle for dinner at the hotel, and got a rather odd response.  He was wearing his Gonzaga University Letterman sweater (with a capital "G") and had long hair.  Long, thick, dark, wavy hair.  As a side note, when I young, I thought he looked like Jesus.

They ate dinner and my great aunt excused herself for a moment.  The waiter came over and said, "hey, nice job.  You're doing pretty well for yourself" while motioning towards my great aunt's seat.  It took my uncle a second to realize that the waiter that thought he was a gigolo.  The waiter then asked, "hey, what's the G stand for."  My uncle, in complete deadpan, "God."

We laughed until we cried at the table that night as my uncle told us the story.  My great aunt, upon hearing my uncle tell her the story that night after their dinner, responded likewise.

A DIs or Miss?

I made several friends from orientation the first week I arrived at Cornell.  Many of these friends were from departments in their graduate programs that were part of the endowed part of CU.  Translation = better events and MUCH better free food.  In contrast, I was in the state school.  Translation = cheese and crackers for special guests 2-3x a semester.

I often tagged along with my friends to poetry and fiction readings, including Maya Angelou and Tim O'Brien.  After the events, we ate like kings.  As a graduate student, free food was never to be taken lightly.  And free good food was even better.  Well, that was worth the long trek down campus by foot or a 15 min search for a parking place by car.

At one such event, I went along with some friends to a function the English Department was throwing at a professor's house.  It was an annual event I was told.    Several friends and I were down on the edge of the lake (the "beach") standing around chatting.  Another woman joined in the conversation.  The only thing I remember about her was her hair.  It was long.  Crystal Gayle long.  She waved it back and forth a bit like Cher, but without all that annoying lip smacking.

After a few minutes of conversation, she says (and I remember this clearly even though it was well over 10 years ago), "I'm going to stand by the fire."  She took one step backwards and turned around.  Yep.  She just turned her back on us.

Really.  Did she mean it?  Or just happen to have a fire close by and she was cold.  I like to think the latter.  Still makes me laugh and shake my head with a wry smile every time I think about.  Her words forever become the ultimate inside joke.  Instead of "excuse me" it became "I'm going to go stand by the fire."

A timeless classic.

Playing Tourist in the Nation's Capital

There's nothing like playing tourist in your old stomping grounds.  It's an odd sensation.  You've been here, you've lived here, but now you're a tourist - a visitor.  I think it really hit us when we got on the Metro from the airport and got onto the escalator.  Here's where you could tell who was and who wasn't a tourist.  Those that ambled, standing here and there along the stairs and not paying attention to which side you should be on.  

Those were the tourists, as those of us who lived there day in and out knew stand right/walk left.  ES and I chuckled as we shared the memory.  We rode the Metro a lot.  Almost every weekend, in fact.  We were always up in the city, seeing the latest exhibition at one of the many Smithsonian museums or finding a new gastronomic treat at one of the many eateries in the city.

The trip was originally planned for me for work, but ES tagged along and we flew out a few days before my meetings to see the sights, friends and family, and celebrate his birthday.  I found a last minute great deal and we stayed at the Fairmont, ideally situated between Georgetown, Dupont Circle, and Foggy Bottom.

We made it to DC at the height of rush hour on Thursday evening.  In the pouring rain.  Correction - the sky decided to open up on us as we were walking the 8 blocks with our suitcases from the Metro to the hotel.  Next time: taxi.  Given the rain and the gridlock, we opted for a restaurant in walking distance.  We'd held a sentimental spot for Marcels, a French place ES took me to when we were dating and still celebrating our "dating" anniversary.  We'd gone there on our first anniversary followed by a show at the Kennedy Center.  We were not disappointed on our return visit.  We oped for the 3-course dinner.  Mine: beet salad, poached lobster in heavy cream, and filet mignon.  ES:  tomato salad, scallops, and the filet as well.  

We headed to the Mall Friday morning to see our old favorites - the Natural History Museum (NHM) and the National Gallery (NG).  The rotunda of the NHM still has the mastodon, which I remember from childhood.  Still here, although they took out those cool phone handsets you could pick up to hear "the story" of the mastodon.

They'd opened a new hall since we'd last visited.  The hall of Human Origins.   ES was getting some fire from his new friend.  The Hall of Mammals and the Hope Diamond were still there.  We trekked down to the gift shop (one of my favorite of the museum gift shops) to do a little browsing.  We passed the museum cafe where we used to go on Friday night's for Jazz night, our date-night tradition.  

We headed to an old favorite for lunch - Jaleo - for an early celebration of ES' birthday.  It was also really nice to have a respite from the heat and humidity.  We feasted on chorizo, manchego, a bean, beat and apple salad, chicken croquettes, and the perennial favorite patatos bravas.  As good as we remembered.  

We stumbled upon a gelato place after lunch.   We tried a few of the flavors, including cardamon and yam, but settled on hazelnut and espresso.  A welcome cool to the heat and humidity of the afternoon.  We'd forgotten just how much it can zap the energy out of you.

After lunch, we headed to the NG.  One of the special exhibits at the was a Mark Rothko showing.  It was his black series.  While it was hard to capture it in the pictures, there are subtle changes (and when I say subtle, I mean really subtle) changes in tone on the canvases.  The Calder mobile was a familiar site.  We also took in the special exhibits in the mail building, including a photo exhibit by Beat poet Alan Ginsburgh.  While I can appreciate photography, his was a little too avant garde for my taste.  We talked by the many of the permanent galleries we'd spent hours browsing in in year's past.  Renoir's "Girl with a watering can" remains a sentimental favorite.

We celebrated ES' birthday at Eventide with my family.  It was a nice treat to see my cousin, his wife and their daughter along with my aunt.  We all toasted to ES' birthday (30 - celebrated for the 13th year in a row!) and ate an amazing dinner.  

Mine:  mixed greens with beets, followed by lobster gnocchi (containing large chunks of lobster), and a raspberry custard.  ES:  tomato salad, roasted chicken, and a chocolate ganache with homemade almond toffee.  

My aunt called her peach soup "divine."  

Little RJ was so cute, blowing kisses to the wait staff followed by ES blowing out his birthday celebration candle.  ES declared it one of the best birthday's in recent memory.  


We spent Saturday morning at the American History Museum (AHM) seeing some new exhibits (restored Star Spangled Banner) as well as some old favorites (Julia Child's kitchen).  

We headed to Dupont Circle to catch up with an old friend of mine.  Kat and I have known each other since we were 4 or 5.  Brownies, kindergarden, and many years of our families taking vacations together.  It was nice to catch up.  It had been ~10 years since we'd seen each other last. 


After lunch, we headed over to the National Portrait Gallery.  I was very excited to see this museum, as it was closed the entire time ES and I lived in DC.  They'd done an amazing job in the renovation, having incorporated some of the deco aspects of the original building along with the more federalist style of the newer building.

After wandering for many hours through the galleries, we decided to find a place for dinner.  We decided to try a Mexican style "tapas" (really more like Mexican food with the small plate style of a Spanish style tapas restaurant).  While service was a bit rocky at first, the management ended up comping our meal and taking care of us, which made for two happy customers in the end.  The food was good.  I especially liked the meat balls and the tacos.  The plantains with mole were an interesting treat - a lot spicier than anticipated!  

After dinner we stumbled upon a cupcake place and of course had to try the signature cupcake. ES opted for the mocha fudge.  Both were excellent.

Sunday morning brought lots of storms and rather than head to the zoo, we went out for brunch with my cousin and his family at a yummy little tavern in Georgetown.  Excellent burger with shoe string fries.


It was so fun playing with RJ.  She's such a cutie.

We managed to squeeze in a few more museums Sunday afternoon before closing.  We went to both the Freer and the Sackler - very under appreciated Smithsonian museums.

We ended our long weekend with a Tapas dinner with my aunt at one of our old favorite places for Tapas in Clarendon - La Tosca.  

An excellent way to end our visit to DC.

How My Choice of Unique Fashion Started at An Early Age

Even at a young age I liked to make a statement.  It started with the Dorothy Hamill bowl cut.  I begged my mom for weeks to cut off my hair, which was naturally curly and went all down my back.  Looking back not a good choice, but given I was 5, well I obviously got my way and off came by hair.  This must have cause great dismay to my mother, as I came across a bag of hair (long, dark brown and wavy) while going through the storage box.  Suggestions for the hair include sending it to the Gulf for the oil clean up.  I think perhaps, it will soon be on it's way to the local landfill.  I think a lock of hair is a precious memory, but a sack may be just a wee bit much for me.

The real renegadism is in the shoes.  I don't think I took those slippers off.  Snow, rain, etc they stayed on.  I think I must have just been a real pill at that age.  Between pestering my mom to cut my hair like my favorite skater, I didn't want to take off my dog slippers.  If memory serves (mostly from my mom's stories), they rather just feel off in the natural progression of time.

Holding my hand (well me really more holding his than anything...) is SKJ (my first "boyfriend") and my big brother SB. Yes, SKJ went by three names even as kindergarteners.  Last I heard from his mom he graduated from Duke Law, but to me he'll always be the kid who stuck everything (yes, everything) up his nose - from micro toy cars to raisons and Cherrios.

I recall this was a "storm of the century" when I was a kid.  We were off for a whole week after multiple feet of snow.  And even in the face of this, I steadfastly hold to my dog slippers.  Kind of like my Keenes now.  Although I draw the line at wearing socks with them....