Potluck holiday

Travel to Europe looked iffy this year, so I decided to plan a vacation closer to home. Puerto Rico sounded perfect, because a four-hour direct flight got me to a location where I could practice my Spanish, avoid a covid test (with a vaccine card), and enjoy the beach. But I did book the more-refundable hotel, just to be sure.

That's looking like a good idea, because my flight out tomorrow is on Spirit Airlines. If you haven't been reading the news, that's the airline that has been cancelling 50% of their flights for the past week, due to weather/planning/staffing (who knows?) issues. My parents arrived home two days later than expected because of Spirit cancellations and there are stories of people spending days in the airport.

Every single flight to Puerto Rico from Baltimore was cancelled today, so I'm not too hopeful about tomorrow. But I have decided I want to avoid spending days waiting, so if my flight is cancelled, I plan to put my suitcase in the car and point in a new direction. I don't know where I'll be tomorrow night, but hopefully it will be neither my living room nor an airport floor.

Adieu, office building

Last Thursday, I packed up my office and said goodbye to it. Not to the job, mind you, just to my office and the building I worked it for seven years before the pandemic sent us all home. My company has decided to go full-time remote. We'll still maintain part of the building for occasional in-person meetings, but no one will have offices and almost all work will happen remotely. I think this is an excellent decision - the majority of my coworkers are really excited about permanently working remotely, and some of them are already planning to move to other states. We've also been able to hire new people that would never have considered moving to DC.

For me, it is bittersweet. My job is mainly meetings, and doing them all by Zoom isn't easy. I also quite enjoyed the location - a building surrounded by woods, but near a metro station - and I had chosen my house so I was within a bicycle commute. However, I am by nature a positive person, so I'll enjoy the view of the my cottage garden that my new office (i.e. my living room) affords, and the opportunity to cook a proper lunch on the stove instead of the microwave most days.

Review: De-I Sandia Outfitters

 My uncle runs a very exclusive combination retreat center and adventure guides in New Mexico. You  can read more here, here, and most importantly here. Go ahead, read that last link, or this review won't make any sense...

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1 out of 5 stars: 

Be forewarned if you choose de-I Sandia Outfitters. They make you work for your supper!

This is the photo in the brochure, but boy is it misleading! Sure, they have a lovely estate and delicious food, but your trip will be anything but lighthearted. When I arrived, I was immediately put to work making my bed - literally, we constructed it out of pieces stored in various closets. I had to scrub floors and trudge through the foothills almost daily. They even scheduled me for an afternoon shift frying donuts. 

Since de-I Sandia Outfitters is in a desert, I was told that the basic resort package included only a few liters of water rations per day. At that point, I gave in and upgraded to the luxury package, which included more drinking water and also allowed me a short shower every day.  

This photo was taken right after my uncle had taken my credit cards, "for safe keeping." Why did he suddenly start walking so quickly after that?

All in all, I would say all but the most seasoned of tourists should stay away. I'm grateful to be back in my cozy DC abode. I can drink all the water  I want, although there are fewer bottles of excellent red wine here...

Rare sightings

The fireflies have been absolutely spectacular this summer. As in, I have added them to my calendar every night this week so I don't miss the show. At dusk, the species near ground level light up, and then as it gets darker over the next hour, the species at tree level light up. 

After all my spring garden woes, the summer garden is now a lovely place to be. I had to replant when an animal or insects got some of the smaller seedlings, but it looks like I'll have green beans, eggplant, and tomatoes very soon. And I've come to terms with the inexplicable death of most of the asparagus plants, and will be turning that into an extra bed for fall-producing plants.

I haven't felt much like blogging, and have no real excuse. But I wanted to capture a few highlights of the past month.

In May, I went camping with my physicist friends, something we've done for many years (excepting 2020, of course). The adults were all vaccinated and my friends have literally embraced my efforts to fill my hug deficit, post-covid. The highlight of the trip, besides hugs and singing with people again, was sitting around the campfire and watching the International Space Station fly by. There are handy webpages for helping you figure out when you'll see it, but once you do, you can't miss it - it was a bright object whizzing across the sky, and it was amazing to imagine astronauts up there just living their lives in space.

My peonies bloomed. Peonies were the flower that prompted me to design the cottage garden in front of my house, because I had run out of places to put new shrubs. Peonies take a few years to establish themselves, but the scent was worth the wait, and as a side benefit I get a beautiful garden. Now that I work from home permanently, I've arranged my desk in my living room to have a terrific view of the garden, something that cheers me up year round. In fact, today I saw my very first hummingbird, something that was so exciting that I interrupted a meeting to announce the event. 

The ups and down of gardening

In 1776, Thomas Paine said that these are the times that try men's souls, but I can say that 2021 is the (spring)time that will try this (wo)man's soul. It has not been a good time in the garden lately. In fact, if I didn't have so many years of success behind me, I would assume I have a black thumb.

The asparagus mostly didn't come up, we haven't had nearly enough rain, and something ate all my spring crops. My friends and the internet don't yet agree on whether I have a groundhog, a deer, or rabbits. I may have to add extra fencing, but the type of fencing that will be effective depends on what kind of furry creature I am dealing with. Gardens can also be ravaged by birds, insects, and disease, but I think I have ruled those out. 

We are also expecting the 17-year cicada cycle, with billions or trillions emerging in the next week or two. I saw my first one today, when it hitched a ride inside on my sweater and wouldn't let go. I'm willing to let nature be, but I have a strict rule on it staying outside of the house. The experts assure us that the insects won't harm garden plants, so luckily I should only have to deal with the racket and molted shells.

For some reason, the perennial garden seems to be thriving much more than the vegetables. So here are some pretty flowers to distract you, since vegetable pictures seem to be a thing of the distant future.

Foxglove. A beautiful plant, and persnickety, as it needs two years' growth before it will bloom.

Daffodils, springstar, jonquils, and violets.

Public service announcement

Today I learned the very useful lesson that if you smell gas, you should call 911. I was only peripherally aware of a funny smell this afternoon before one of my neighbors waved me outside. My home office is in the living room, and I keep an eye on things outside while working but don't usually pay attention while I'm in meetings. My neighbor told me that she smelled something, I should call someone, and that she was going grocery shopping.

With that inauspicious comment, I googled my natural gas company and learned that calling 911 was the recommended action. And, in fact, when I called 911, they agreed. Fire trucks and the gas company quickly arrived. It turned out that the city, while replacing my street's sidewalks, had damaged my gas line, which filled my yard and started seeping into my front rooms. 

So today I learned many fun facts: you should immediately call 911 if you smell something odd. Natural gas does not smell precisely like rotten eggs, unlike the advertisements. Firemen do not wear masks, even when they're in your house. However, the gas company is highly invested in making sure you don't blow up, and will even avoid walking on your tulips and raspberries while doing that.

Scenes from Ohio

I hate my parents' stove. I think it's some kind of electric coil/glass top, which makes it easy to clean, but difficult to use. Some of the heating elements don't work, it takes forever to heat up a pan, and the controls are the opposite of intuitive. Last Christmas, I got fed up and threatened that if they hadn't replaced the stove by next Christmas, I was not cooking for everyone. My father apparently took this to heart, and while they haven't replaced the old stove, he did build a handy-dandy, propane-fueled, three-burner stove. It worked great, although you'll note that I was too short to use it properly. I think the plan is to buy something permanent and new, but if this is the option next winter, I can live with it.

As my years as a vegetarian roll on, I find I'm enjoying handling meat less and less. So my father made the meatballs while I made the mushroom balls. Everyone enjoyed their respective pasta dish.

My mother, a friend of hers, and I have been exercise buddies for the past few months. Although we all live in different places, we text each other every day with the accounting of whatever activity we've managed. I took lots of photos of our walks to add to the text thread. It was sunny but windy in Ohio until the last day, when Mother Nature played an April Fool's Day joke and dumped a few inches of snow on us.