Anna and Abby

Today I had the chance to spend the day with my old friend Anna. Anna and I met in 1999 when I was living in DC on my dad's sabbatical. We went to the same school and were in the same advisory group. I don't remember exactly how we became friends, but I know that much of our early bonding came over introducing one another to our favorite musicals. She taught me about Sondheim; I introduced her to RENT. We realized that it had been almost exactly 10 years since we met, and the day's activities were fitting to that.

We started at the Dupont Circle Farmer's Market, where we both bought some gorgeous purple kale and extremely fresh ginger (with the shoots still attached!) My kale:
We had lunch in the sort-of-park that is Dupont Circle proper. Anna and I have looked very much alike at different points. At one point her hair was very curly and mine was really short. Now we are reversed. People always thought we were sisters.

In honor of our tenth anniversary of friendship, we paid homage to some important spots in our teenage years. After I moved back to Rochester, every time I visited Anna we would trek out to Dupont Circle for the afternoon. We would have lunch at WrapWorks, which no longer exists, and spend a long time scouring every inch of Lamda Rising. Back then it felt important, a time we could be ourselves and talk about the things we didn't want our parents to overhear. Today the store didn't hold as much appeal, the buttons not as funny, the books and cards more overtly sexual. Had the store changed or had we? Maybe we just don't need it like we once did.

We also paid a visit to Kramerbooks, a great bookstore, and resolved to send eachother book recommendations. We finished the day with a long sit in Cosi. We always stopped there as teenagers, when it was called XandO (did you say it zando? X and O? Who knew?), and had an Arctic Mocha, a sweet blended coffee drink. For Anna, drinking something with coffee in it was pure teenage rebellion. It was a long time (months? years?) before she would buy her own instead of sharing mine. Our drinks today (coffee for her, iced cappucino for me) struck me as somehow grown-up. Our conversation also was no longer about teachers and furtive crushes, but about our healthy relationships and jobs. I look at us and like who we have become.

National Book Festival

Today was the National Book Festival, put on by the Library of Congress and a bunch of sponsors. Held on the Mall, the festival draws many famous authors and huge crowds. They had a great line-up this year of both children's and adult authors, and so I carefully planned my day to see these men and women speak and read from their books.

My first author was Lois Lowry. She wrote Number the Stars, The Giver, and Anastasia Krupnik. Using a trick I learned last year, I squeezed into the side of the tent, and sat on the ground to the side of the stage. After a minute, I realized that I was sitting behind Mrs. Lowry as she waited to go onstage.

She spoke about her first picture book, which is based on a true story. She told us about the time when she learned that sometimes bending the truth made a better story. This account involved her six-year-old self pouring glue on her baby brother's hand, and a stranger asking her if he had been burned. "The helpful girl pushed the badly burned baby down the street" had a better ring to it, so she did not correct the stranger. She also answered questions, claiming before she called on anyone, "In case you were going to ask, Jonas is alive! I never thought that people would read him as dying at the end when I wrote it. That's why I wrote The Messenger." Many people clapped at that.
After that I made my way to the History and Biography tent to hear Sue Monk Kidd and her daughter, Anne Kidd Taylor, speak about their new memoir. Sue Monk Kidd wrote The Secret Life of Bees, a favorite of the Mother Daughter Bookclub. Today the two discussed the travel that inspired the memoir, and much about their relationship. Sue Monk Kidd read a quote by Lillian Carter (mother of Jimmy Carter) that made us all laugh: “Sometimes when I look at all my children, I say to myself, 'Lillian, you should have stayed a virgin.'” Although you can see Sue Monk Kidd in short black hair and her daughter in the red sweater, I wanted to show the size of the crowd in the tent. Every seat was filled, and this was the case for every author in every tent. Great turn-out this year.

I had a bit of time before the next author I wanted to see, so I strolled through some other tents. Some of the sponsors had tents set up just for kids. Here they could meet the Very Hungry Catepillar.
I headed for one of my favorite parts of the Festival: The Pavillion of the States. Each state choses a kids' or YA book to feature, and has a booth providing info about that book and their state. Some states have maps of the state and tourist info; others have bookmarks featuring the winners of their state book awards. You can obtain a special map of the US, and take it to each state for a stamp or a sticker. I did this both years and I was not the only adult to do so! The tent is organized by region of the US, so you have some idea of where you are. Among other things, I picked up a pin from Idaho in the shape of a potato, a poster of Emmylou Harris reading, and many great book ideas.
Mo Willems came next. He writes interactive and slightly irreverant pictures books like Don't Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus and Naked Mole Rat Gets Dressed. He used to be a stand-up comedian, and his performance attested to that. He had adults and kids alike laughing heartily. One the books he read to us is called Pigs Make Me Sneeze. He commented that it was a controversial title in light of recent news. Any reference to H1N1 flu automatically wins my favor! He also did a great reading of "Naked Mole Rat."
Here is a view of the festival from the steps of the Freer. You can see the tents, the Natural History Museum, and many, many umbrellas. It rained on and off (but increasingly on) throughout the afternoon.
The day ended with two authors dear to me. The first was Tim O'Brian. A Vietnam vet, he writes about the war in a style that blends truth and fiction, fantasy and fact, poetry and prose. Every time I hear his name, I think about Mr. Fox, my ninth grade English teacher, who taught us how to write. He too was a Vietnam vet, and he read us many passages from Tim O'Brian outloud. Every time he read, we got the feeling that Mr. Fox was sharing a little bit of his own experience with us. I have no idea if Mr. Fox and Tim O'Brian knew eachother, but it felt like they did. At the festival Tim O'Brian (on the right; the ASL interpreter is on the left) read a newly written letter to his first son, who is now six. The author is 62, and the letter was about not being around for all of his son's life. It was an emotional reading, both for us and him.
And to end the day, I went to see Judy Blume. She spent a few minutes talking about her childhood, but mostly wanted to answer our questions. Many, many of the questions were from children, and they didn't just reference her newer books, but all of the old favorites that so many people my age have read! It made me so happy that these dear books are still being discovered by young readers. There were many questions about Fudge, who it turns out was based off of her son Larry, who used to eat under the table like a dog and threw a lot of fits. When asked if she would ever write books about Fudge or Margaret (as in, Are You There G-d It's Me) as adults, she recoiled in horror, insisting that each will forever be 5 and 12, respectively.

Judy Blume is 72, but you would never know it to look at her. I've attached this press photo, taken in April or May, to show how amazing she looks.
I cannot even begin to describe the warmth and energy in the very full room, as it poured outside and the sky began to darken. This generation of women who had grown up with Judy Blume books and the younger generation currently loving her work sat glued to her every word, laughing and clapping when she encouraged us all to read banned books. We all left smiling.

Getting out into the Community with Flu

Tuesday, September 22: I arrived back to my office to find that I had two new co-workers and office-mates. And one of them had been very busy.
This co-worker, B, is in charge of the Medical Reserve Corps, which are medical volunteers. She inherited an enormous amount of stuff with this job. Why it all has to be stored in our office escapes me. Apparently on Monday it had been worse, my other office-mate assured me--B. had at least made a path for me to get to my desk.

I spent the rest of Tuesday frantically cutting and pasting, in the analog sense. My project was to create 2 display cases for a large county building. It was actually sort of fun, if rushed, and I was pleased with the results. I also got to eavesdrop on some conversation about H1N1 vaccine while I was setting up the cases. I drew the virus pictured below.
The flu bug attached to the display below actually belongs to my boss J--she has her own little collection of microbial mates.

Wednesday, September 23: I had my first public flu presentation. I spoke to one of the Rotary Clubs in our area. The presentation went fairly well, and people asked many earnest questions. Then they all came up and shook my hand, which I found rather ironic.

I didn't know much about Rotary Club before I presented there. It turns out to be a community-oriented service organization comprised of business, professional, and community leaders. There were more women than I had anticipated, and everyone was quite friendly. We started with a prayer and the Pledge of Allegiance. I was initially uncomfortable with the prayer, just waiting for the moment when Jesus would come up. But he didn't. The prayer leader just addressed "Lord" and led a very nice prayer. Once I stopped feeling weird praying at work, with my head bowed (Jews don't do this really), next to my boss, I relaxed into it and tried to use it.
After the presentation, J was called to the front with me and we were both presented with Rotary Club pens, and the following photo opportunity. Here we are with the chapter president. We were also featured in some sort of Northern Virginia news.

Friday, September 25: Today I presented at an assisted living facility. The presentation did not go as expected, due in part to the fact that my audience's mean age was 85. I had been promised staff and family members as well, but they were conspicuously absent, as was the woman who arranged my visit. I did come away with quite a bit of advice about how to speak, such as louder, slower, and closer to the mic. On my way home, I manged to go the wrong way on the Beltway, which is a large circle. By the time I realized this, I was pretty much directly across the circle from Bethesda. Since going through the city at 4pm was out of the question, I just continued around the Beltway. It took a damn long time. But I did get to see this cool view of the Mormon Temple in Maryland.
Tonight I also made some awesome butternut squash soup. It only had 4 ingredients: butternut squash, onions, fresh ginger, and vegetable broth. It was succulent and cozy. It is now 10pm, which has been my bedtime lately, to go with my 6am wake-up call. But tomorrow is Saturday, and the National Book Festival!

Rosh Hashanah and a New Hair Cut

Even though it's been a few days, I'm going to pick up where I left off with my weekend. Still on Friday the 18th. Although I have lived in Bethesda for over a year (15 months!) and have several doctors, a bank and a shoppers club card locally, I still prefer to get my hair cut in Rochester. As I drove to the salon, Rochester weather graced me with some blue skies and puffy clouds.
As always, I had a grand time at the hair salon. My stylist Toni and I talk about everything from European travel to relationships to G-d to singing and back to G-d. Toni is active in her own faith, and has some really close Jewish friends. In fact, the first time I walked into the shop one March, she asked me what I did to celebrate Purim. She's so much fun to talk to. And I always come out with a great haircut.
It's a lot shorter than it was, and Toni blow-dried it. I took this picture while stuck in Pittsford traffic, which held its own quite nicely, even after driving around DC for a while.

I met my parents at our family friends' house for Erev Rosh Hashana dinner. I arrived at the same time as one of my rabbis. As I got out of my car in my jeans, dress in hand, he said, "nice Rosh Hashana outfit," with a smile. I changed into my new dress (thank you Miriam for helping me pick it out) and emerged down the stairs, feeling like a real grown-up. I was even wearing heels. Although the rabbi said he liked the other outfit better (he was joking), more than one person did not recognize me with my new haircut and outfit. My mom looked great in her new dress--we were sort of matching. Here is a picture of my little fur family.
Dad likes to take the picture before he counts all the way to 3, but sometimes it works out.
Erev Rosh Hashana services were excellent. The choir sang, and for a few prayers a bassist played along, bowing his bass like a cello. So beautiful. Rabbi A. (the other one) gave a great d'var about awe and dread. She really makes us think and is so smart. I talked to so many people I know! And now that I have this job I love, I have something to say to the same questions I get over and over. My family was in a Chavurah (group of Jewish families) that met for years every month or so when we were all kids. The Chavurah formed when I was in first or second grade and continued until I graduated high school. The adults still get together sometimes. Over Rosh Hashana I got to see some other kids from the Chavurah I hadn't seen in about 3 or 4 years. One of them used to seem so much older than me, but now we are in the same age bracket.

Saturday, September 19: On Rosh Hashana (the day of) my parents and Jill's family and I went to the family service, led by Rabbi A. Great music again, and a d'var that started by having kids list all of the things they would want a visitor from another planet to see on Earth. The time went quickly in this service, although I definitely missed the full Unetaneh Tokef and surrounding prayers. On the upside, we blew shofar even though it was Shabbat.

After services, we went over to Gloria and Irv's for lunch. They are friends of my parents who are a good deal older than my parents. They met through the homeless project my mother leads. Irv, my dad, and my uncle Mike (my mom's brother-in-law) have a great rapport that involves much teasing and shouting. At this moment, I believe someone was being razzed about the movie selection the last time they had all seen a "manly movie."
Sunday, September 20: We had a Rosh Hashanah second day brunch at Jill and Mike's. Lox, kugel, cauliflower pie (Jill's famous), and some delicious apple crisp (and I don't usually use those words together, but this was excellent). You can see that I am wearing my new haircut curly--I am excited that it does that.

My cousin Molly and me. She's 17 and a senior in high school. After we took a few bad pictures, I ambush-hugged her and we got this good one.
The Rochester cousins: Molly, me and Lindsey, who's 20 and a junior at Hobart and William Smith College. The nice short photos I wanted of us quickly turned into a photo-session that finally ended when we all started yelling at Uncle Mike and walking away. It was mostly good natured.
Poppa, my grandfather, usually eats at 6:00 sharp. But on this day, we didn't sit down until nearly 8:00. He figured no one would believe that he ate dinner at that hour without photographic evidence.
Monday, September 21: Had a relaxing morning at home, a quick lunch at a restaurant, and then was dropped off at the airport.

I was so glad to be home, but I was also happy when I returned to my apartment here in Bethesda. Being away reminds me that I like it here too. That's my Rochester weekend in a big nutshell. L'shana tova to everyone!

Apple Picking and Rosh Hashana Prep

I am back from Rochester, where I've been since Thursday evening. I had a wonderful weekend at home, and was glad I was able to be with my family for Rosh Hashannah, the Jewish New Year. Rosh Hashannah and Yom Kippur (the Day of Atonement) are the most important Jewish holidays, known as the High Holidays, or even the High Holy Holidays (I don't know if anyone other than me calls them that--Jewish readers?). This is going to be a wicked long post, so I suggest a hot beverage while you read.

Thursday, September 17: Dulles Airport is located really close to my office, so getting to the airport was a snap. Getting from the Economy parking lot to the gate was not. I made my flight, thankfully, and was picked up at the other end by Dad. My parents and I went out for Thai food at our favorite restaurant. When I got in the backseat of Mom's car, this was sitting beside me:
In case you can't tell, it's the Torah blessings--the prayers recited before and after the reading of the Torah. My temple keeps a copy of them on the podium so anyone with an Aliyah (being called to the Torah to say these blessings) won't choke and forget the words. And they were in my mother's car, along with the Shabbat and Yom Tov candles. Temple Sinai holds its high holiday services at the JCC, and my mother is in charge of the move. That means she directs a team who counts chairs, stacks prayer books, and makes sure the Torahs are in the arks. You see now that I come by my propensity for being in charge honestly.

Friday, September 18: Mom and I started the day with a trip to the JCC to ensure that everything was in place. I got to carry a Torah in from someone's car. I chaneled Sbolts, leaning my cheek on the cover, savoring its history and trying to radiate my respect. After I handed it to a volunteer to place it in the ark, we discovered that I had been carrying it upsidedown. So much for that.

I spent a little bit poking around the JCC, where I spent much of my early youth. I took every manner of class at the J, from ballet to pottery, and went to nursery school and camp there. This staircase struck me as an emblem of my childhood there. I think that groups of children did not go down these stairs; there was another set that they led us down. But when my mom came to pick me up we used these stairs. I remember eating lunch at some chairs at the bottom of these stairs; tuna fish sandwiches out a rigid lunchbox shaped like Mickey Mouse's head. And playing on the stairs while mothers chatted. Like many things from youth, they don't look like much now.
We then headed to one of my dearest places in Rochester: The Apple Farm. My family has been going apple picking there for almost 20 years. We have taken visitors from all of the world to The Apple Farm for picking, fresh cider, and homemade cinnamon cider donuts.
On weekends this lawn is full of families. I used to roll down that slope, parents yelling when we got too close to the road. This place symbolizes fall to me. Mom and I headed into the orchard to pick some Macintoshes. They aren't nearly as red as the apples pictured, but these not-yet-ripe Red Delicious made a better photo.
The view from the orchard always takes our breath away. It is just an elevated view of the surrounding farmland, but there is just something about it that feels vast and free. I have always felt this way, and just learned that my mom does too (and so does the son of the owner of the farm). Mom was a little chilly here.
The family rule of apple picking is as follows: one must eat an apple upon arrival in the orchard. I am about to bite into my first apple. New York apples taste the best, in my opinion, and there is nothing like a piece of fruit that was attached to a plant a moment before.

The cider donut was as good as ever, and we left with a bag of Cortlands as well as Macs. Cortlands are crisper than Macs and really white on the inside. They are my favorite kinds, in addition to Empires, which come out later in the season. A mutual love of apples was something that connected Sarah and me early my senior year. I enjoy living further south sometimes, but fall makes me remember that I am an upstate New York girl at heart.

Forum on Microbial Threats

Yesterday I had the opportunity to attend a conference in DC on "The Domestic and International Impacts of the 2009 Influenza A H1N1 Pandemic." I metroed into the city with everyone else, dressed in my little-worn suit. I felt pretty snazzy, I must say. Amazingly, I was not overdressed. I've never actually been in an environment where a suit is commonplace. The conference was held at the Institute of Medicine at the National Academies of Sciences, located across from the National Building Museum (pictured above).

The sessions were really great! I learned so much about the actual virus, in scientific terms that made me glad of my bio background, but not bored. I thought for the first time about the impact of flu on Third World countries (I know, I should have considered this previously). We heard from people at CDC, WHO, and various prestigious universities. One of the coolest things was a talk by the man who had directed the CDC during the 1976 Swine Flu predicted pandemic. That outbreak is the reason people now fear Guillian Barré Syndrome with vaccine (don't fear it! Get vaccinated--ask me if you have more questions). This man was in his 80s, and recalled the whole scenario from memory, as if he were telling a story. I'm not doing a great job describing all of this, but it was a great day and I came away with lots of new information.

At lunch the vegetarian option was just lettuce, so I wandered upstairs to the NAS cafeteria. This photo is taken from the eating area, which stretches all the way up like that. The view was much better than the egg salad.
Today I was supposed to go the second day of the conference for surveillance, epidemiology and ethics, but I woke up really dizzy. It has subsided for periods of time, but I have been dizzy most of the day. So I've read (I can focus on one thing, but when I move my eyes or head too much things spin) a book and a half, watched a movie, and napped. Tomorrow I'm going home for Rosh Hashannah! I can't wait!

Project 365 Day 30

Today was a really productive day at work. No one was around, which was a bummer because I was wearing one of my cool new outfits, but on the upside I got a bunch of tasks done that required lots of concentration. With my cute outfit, which involves brown pants, I decided to wear some brown suede heels I had bought in my pre-arthritis days. You should know that I never wear heels. I don't stand or walk much in this job, so I figured it was worth a try. I pretty much walk like a bad drag queen in these heels. At one point I tottered to the kitchen in the office, and one of the older ladies from the front said, "you're not walking so well. You're walking like me--and I'm old!" Always a boost in a comment like that!

I walked to get my pants hemmed, and saw the following:
While this does appear to be a squirrel eating a tennis ball, it was actually eating this giant fruit/seed/thing that is in abundance this time of year. They have hard green outsides, with shiny brain-like ripples. I have seen kids using them as soccer balls, baseballs, and the kind of balls you roll down the slide to your parents. They're cool-looking, but I hope none of them drops on my head. I proceeded to the tailor. While I was standing on a fitting block, the small Asian seamstress started rapping on my left ankle. Assuming she was commenting on my stance (I sometimes put my feet in funny positions), I shifted my weight. She continued rapping. It wasn't until she started tugging at my pants that I realized I was standing on the hem she was trying to pin up.

I had an important realization today. I do not detest all tea. The other day I had some Earl Gray, which was palatable but not delicious. Today I tried some Lady Gray, and I actually liked it! The funny thing is that everyone has been trying to get me to drink herbal tea, which I really don't like. But it seems like black tea is far less offensive. Tomorrow I try Irish Breakfast. And since I didn't take a photo of my tea, I post a photo of this:
It's Stick Tea for real! Two years ago a doctor had told Sarah to drink a certain medicinal tea. It was muddy brown, and, in accordance with its taste, Sarah named it "stick tea." I guess twig tea has smaller pieces.

Dupont Circle Farmer's Market

So, you know how I mentioned that I was feeling in a fog, and quiet inside? I think I realized why. For the first time in a really long time, I neither stressed nor anxious. I've started my job, things are great with Sarah (not that they ever weren't), and I am, at least for the next little bit, not worried about the future. Even the things that are in transition, like my living situation are not stressing me out. I know they will happen and will be ok. This is an unusal feeling for me, and I don't quite know what to do with it. But it's good. Things in my life are good now.

Today I was feeling kind of solitary. It seemed like the time to take the plunge: going downtown alone for the first time since May. It was strange to wait for the metro by myself. Sarah and I had taken to doing crossword puzzles or playing guessing games while we waited. Luckily I had brought a letter to write. I made my way to the Dupont Circle Farmer's Market. I got there around later than I ever had, so many of the vendors were dropping prices, and calling out remaining quantities of their produce. It was still bustling--many more people my age in Dupont than at the Bethesda one. Part of the street is blocked off, and there are just throngs of young professionals with cloth bags, and families buying in bulk. It was the last week for peaches. We have had such a sweet peach season here.
This stand has a wide selection of organic veggies. I don't often buy organic; at a farmer's market I don't think it matters so much. But these people have the best looking produce often, from this mound of green beans to the leafy chard that came with verbal cooking instructions.
Loved this rainbow of peppers.
And here is the bounty I packed into my backpack, using the lettuce to cushion the peaches. There will be bits of lettuce in that bag for a long time.
I love this market--it always makes me feel like I'm part of something. But what follows might be my favorite thing about Dupont Circle:

Grown-Up Clothes

After 2 weeks at work and realizing that I have about 6 days of work outfits, I decided it was time to take the plunge and buy some nice clothes. Miriam had the goodness of heart to serve as my biz cas fashion consultant, qualified by her general good taste and job as a paralegal. We drove out to the Leesburg Outlets, which are about 1/3 the size of the ones near Syracuse. But they did have Ann Taylor and Banana Republic. I tried on just about everything I even vaguely liked. Not everything fit.
But I did very well: I bought 3 pairs of pants (tan, brown, and houndstooth), a gorgeous black dress, and 4 tops (1 sweater and 3 short-sleeved).

We had lots of giggles in the dressing room, as it's hard to tell on the hanger if something is going to be cute or simply hideous. Now I am fully suited up to work in different outfits each day. It's always nice to spend time with Miriam. We've known eachother since sixth grade, and sometimes you just can't beat history.

We drove from Virginia to Columbia Heights where Rowan's coop was having a potluck in her honor. I met some great people, and had some interesting conversations. I spoke to a guy from Panama doing research on Maryland blue crabs. "Cranky old bastards," was his description, with an affectionate grin. I also ran into two women I had met at someone else's party. I had connected with one of them there, and was so happy to have another great conversation. It's nice to socialize in groups. Rowan knows lots of people, and she always has a way of bringing people together. I look forward to more of this. Also to more of this:
She thought we were taking a nice photo, then at the last minute I did this.