Going backwards in heels to music

This has nothing to do with Shaw. Or even the District of Columbia. This falls under the “it’s my blog I’ll post what I want” rule.

Every year I look forward to the annual ‘Evening with Strauss Viennese Waltz’ at Glen Echo. It’s where I dig out one of my only two formal dresses, pack a couple of heels and somehow get myself out to the wilds of Maryland to dance with strangers in tuxes.
If you haven’t been out to Glen Echo Park for anything, I highly recommend you go at least once and if possible do something in the Spanish Ballroom. There are a couple of different regular dances out there for swing/lindy hop, waltz, zydeco, contra, and folk held in the ballroom. I don’t remember if I’ve been on the merry-go-round there. I believe it will be in operation this weekend, so if my dance card is free and it is still on, I’ll probably go for a ride.
Oh yes, for the annual waltz there are dance cards. You get a tiny pencil and a little booklet on a string and you try to get the card filled out (or not in my case as I don’t know how to tango and there is at least 1 tango for the night). Besides the main waltzing, there is the tango, and one German named dance that involves a lot of hopping and though quite fun, by the time you really get into it, it’s over. All in all it is great fun, a great excuse to dust off the formal wear and cheap ($15 bucks).

Joys of Craigslist

Jimbo discovered a Craigslist complaint about a car at Q and New Jersey with a car alarm that constantly goes off. I guess it is around the same area where I saw the torched remains of a car… it was completely black, so either it was torched or a lousy car painted completely with flat black paint.
I was bobbing around Craigslist looking at the rental and for sale pictures, because I like to see how people decorate or design their spaces, when I came across this. Ok, would someone like to explain WTF is that? What exactly is being advertised in the picture?

Dump Truck Protest

I work in lower Penn Quarter and right now I’m being serenaded by dump truck horns. If I stick my head around a colleague’s cubical I can sort of see a huge convoy of building construction dump trucks. Some of them have signs. Unfortunately the only one I could read said “Fuel Costs”. There was another that might have said something about occupational safety or another about insurance. A periodic complaint we have on our floor is it is nearly impossible to read protester’s signs, so we spend most of our time trying to figure out what the heck is the message.
The on going, cacophony of truck horns sounds like the brass section tuning up.

Update= I went down to the street level to take a look, one sign said “Fair Compensation”, which looks like “New Construction” from the office window. Also from the street, those horns are loud.

April 1st

April showers means… less watering for me.
It did cross my mind to do an April Fools post. Something along the lines of ‘French Bistro to come to corner of R & New Jersey’, but I thought that, that, would be too cruel. However, Frozen Tropics has gone on a April Fool’s roll, my favorite of which is “Local Historians Just Make Sh t Up“. Followed by “Girlfriend No Longer Has Excuse To Not Visit H St Boyfriend” with a lovely observation of a segment of the west of 16th St anglo-female community.

“I saw Napa used sun-drieds,” said Ginny referring to the sun-dried tomatoes sprinkled liberally throughout NAPA’s menu. “And that was the deal-sealer for me. No white woman with a college degree can pass them up. I am going to come over at 7 p.m. maybe 7:30 this Saturday. Tell him to make sure no black guys are hanging on the corner this time.”

Is the grass greener and sometimes you can have too much of a good thing

Last week I attended a farewell dinner. No farewell dinner sounds to formal, we met at a restaurant, parked at a couple of tables the staff pulled together, drank and talked about the honoree’s career. The man of honor used to be my boss and was leaving to do work at another institution.
Anyway, former boss man and his wife are selling their Capitol Hill home because it is just too busy. I’ve known the couple for a while, and have been to their house. When I visited about a little less than 10 years ago the way I navigated their neighborhood, was trying to stay on the not-scary part of the street. Believe it or not, parts were kinda sketchy at night a decade ago. Now their street is less dark and frightening.
However, since the increased commercial activity along Pennsylvania and 8th Street, their neighborhood has gotten loud. I remember him complaining once how he could hear his neighbor’s alarm clock. So with new complaints about increased traffic, both car and foot, I can understand why he and his wife want out.
On one level a vibrant commercial strip is a good thing. However, it is a mixed blessing. It makes your house more valuable, neighborhood safer and there are more amenities. However, you’re afraid to move your car, because when you come back there may be nothing on your block, or near your block, when you come home (sounds like Dupont Circle). And then there is the street noise of cars, and people talking.
I don’t know where they will go if and when they sell. I guess they will stay in the city, maybe a quieter, or better insulated part of the city.

Conversations I need to stop having in mixed company

I was in Georgetown talking with a woman when in the conversation I mentioned my usual neighborhood complaints of guys on the corner, drug dealing, the friendly neighborhood crackhead (formerly crack ho as no one has lately reported her doing business), and vacant houses. She asked “Now where do you live again?” This is when I realized I should have kept my mouth shut, as idle chatter about boyz in the hood and other transitional neighborhood woes don’t play well in other parts of town. I do remember responding to the question with humor.

There is bell ringing in my ear

I’ve been meaning to mention it, but have you noticed bells chiming, sometimes ringing off the hours in the past month or two? I have no clue where this is coming from. Scott is guessing that they are in the direction of St. George’s Episcopal on U St in Eckington/Bloomingdale. Anyone else have a clue of who is ringing the bells?

Books & seeds

I stopped by the Big Bear to check out their little library and pickup some coffee grounds for ye olde compost bin. Not much there on the bookshelf so I’ll be seeing what I can spare from my shelves, that might make for an interesting coffeehouse read.
Currently I’m reading Sudhir A. Venkatesh’s American Project and I’m only at page 87. It isn’t as much of a page turner as his Gang Leader for a Day, it covers around about the same material but is more academic, and talks more about the governmental bodies that play a role in the history and operations of the Robert Taylor Homes in Chicago. There were a few things that have caught my attention so far in the book. One was the story of the Robert Taylor Homes starting off as mixed income housing and how policies helped turned it into a poor people warehouse. The second thing is the underground economy developing and the incentives for relatively benign activities to be driven underground. On this second thing, the underground economy included child care services, food and craft production, car repair, hair styling, subleasing, and under the table labor as well as criminal commerce such as selling stolen items, drugs, gambling, prostitution and ‘protection.’ What I find fascinating are the incentives that keep the non-criminal stuff underground. Anyway, when I’m done with the book I will add it to the BB library.
On seeds, I only got one bite for an exchange. I’ll try again. Any one want to engage in a seed swap meet?

Games Children Play

From the screaming and yelling the neighborhood kids are engaging in and a certain chant, I believe the kids are playing Jerry Springer. I’m not going to look out the window to see if anyone is playing the role of Trailer Trash Transvestite. And yes, I’m posting this at 10:55PM. And, yes, the kids are outside at 10:55PM. No, I don’t know why the kids aren’t in the house.