That's why they call them the Smokey Mountains!

Praise be, we have internet access again! Seems like a loose connection, an unnecessary splitter, and a weak cable are to blame, but a young Comcast tech was able to fix us right up. Life seems far more 21st century all of a sudden.

But what a good weekend to lose connectivity, if there had to be one. We spent it hiking through the fog, touring old places, walking "the Grounds," trying to spot the mountains, eating birthday-boy requested cheesecake and surprise do-das (K's super secret Chex mix, not to be confused with anyone else's Nuts 'n Bolts).

We also found a cool brewery in the middle of nowhere with not only birds, foxes, and moose mounted to the walls,

it also had New Mexico-style fries with cheese and green chile, just what the doctor ordered as Ben trucked his way through a pitying sinus infection.

Of course, we also took ample opportunity to try out the new TV *and* the new Wii Fit.

See how captivating it can be? ;-) J has a real future for himself as a Wii ski-jump champion, and Karen can jog Wii island with the best of 'em. She even shooed the packs of dogs out of her way, and got a 128%. Damn!

After a second morning of Southern-inspired breakfast in the fog (except for Ben, who opted for the just plain outrageous: peanut butter cup pancakes), we wound our way up Carter's Mountain, hiked the Jefferson trails, and finally toured James Monroe's Ash Lawn Highland. You were right, Dave; it was a great tour, and MJ, our guide, was sharp and contextualized the home and Monroe's life remarkably well for some persnickety historians in the group. Plus, it was a two-birds sort of stop, because I was able to accomplish some work for my Madison project, too.

The 'rents had a long schlep ahead and we had an appointment with Comcast, so the weekend came to a too-soon end, but it was terrific while it lasted. The many adventures of the rainy Piedmont Valley continue on, with dog-sitters due back in Keswick for a walk up the block, hoping the sunlight holds out just a little bit longer.

Operation Preparation

In our silence, you might imagine that things are merely plodding along quietly in the shadow of the Blue Ridges. In reality, we have a number of High Alert Priority projects underway, which are consuming all our time.

First and foremost, today is Operation Birthday Eve. We're prepping for the tremendous weekend of celebration ahead and putting on our best faces despite the weather (gloomy, cold) and Ben's sinus infection (terrible timing!).

Because it is soon to be Birthday Weekend, we are also engaged in Preparation Make Apartment Dwelling More Appealing to Parents/In-Laws (Mostly Because They're Bringing Birthday Cheesecake and Northern Cheer). And what to do with them in C'ville in the rain? We're considering our options.

Ben's present to himself will arrive tomorrow morning (Operation High Def), and we need a place to put it (Operation Sturdier Home for Pricey Electronics) -- though I'm happy to report he actually got a much better deal than Best Buy is currently offering. Did I mention Operation Your Brother is an Accountant so Get Your Freakin' Taxes Done? There's that. We're also semi-urgently shopping for new glasses, after Ben's crumbled for about the last time (Operation Prescription Expiration). Beginning tomorrow, we'll be minding the Keswick pup while Don and Sue catch some fun in the Sunshine State (continuation of last week's Code Watch Dog Sit), and, of course, there's also the sale of the Neon (I'm getting less clever as these parentheses carry on..).

Speaking of, know anyone who wants a 2000 Dodge Neon with only 60,000 miles? Because we know where you can get one! And we're in good with the seller, so we can probably cut you a sweet deal, too! ;-)

Of course, all this busyness is exacerbated by the fun we've been having instead of plowing through our lists, like last night, which we spent laughing with Ben's coworkers (and their very charismatic partners, if I do say so myself) downtown. And I've wasted plenty of time this week thinking about dipping Peeps in chocolate, a la BD's idea that got stuck in my head as soon as I heard it. Peeps? Good. Chocolate? Great. Chocolate covered Peeps? Unknown! We must remedy that... as soon as we get the rest of this stuff cleared off our desks.

Hope everyone out there is eagerly anticipating brighter days in spite of the chill (and eagerly anticipating participation in Ben's Birthday Fiesta!). Here's a reminder of things to come, in the form of the wall of glowing forsythia at the Boar's Head Inn, taken Sunday:

Railroad Earth and UV Filtering

Saturday night:

Sunday afternoon:

Pretty much as it should be, huh?

Lima Beans and Napkins...

Marian Burros, one of my favorite food writers, had an interview with Michelle Obama earlier this week to discuss the new White House gardens (which, of course, confirms my--and your--voting brilliance). There's plenty to take away from the article, but I just had to bring something to public attention, since my efforts to publicly shame my father's bill-paying practices last week were moderately successful:

“My mother, who is now a grandmother — and that’s a whole ’nother person — seems to believe that she never, ever really made us eat anything that we didn’t want to eat,” Mrs. Obama said. “It’s just a lie. I’ll get my brother here, and we can spend hours railing about how we hid lima beans in our napkins. And for the days we had to eat liver, we were gagging over it.”

I am more validated than ever before, knowing that I am NOT alone in my torrid memories. Wonder if Michelle had limas on Thursday nights with mushrooms and pork chops, too? Maybe she choked it all down with 8 oz of 2% milk? We may never know, but my elation is compensation enough.

Pet-sitting

While Don and Sue traverse the mid-Atlantic, we've been pet-sitting. Well, really, "watching pet sit" would be more accurate. Both times we took Doogie out today, he promptly found a patch of grass and sat down. With unyielding force.

This afternoon, I had to tug and plead and remind him of the incredible treats awaiting him before he'd even look up from that tempting grass. He even ignored the juicy, provocative squirrel who was squirreling around only feet away.

"Human, your walking ways baffle and bore me." Hrumph!

Busy week

Sorry for our lack of a proper update about our time to Williamsburg, for which I've already uploaded photos but failed to construct reasonable narratives. Ben told me that my last post was "jumpy" -- so I'll wait until I have some semblance of a mind before I get carried away again.

So far, this week, instead of writing thoughtful narrative, I've been busy

1) Worrying about the safety of my limbs at the laundromat:


2) Sneezing. Rubbing my eyes. And enjoying the burst of spring color the Piedmont trees have created this week:


3) Working slavishly under unpictured EdTrend deadlines (and when you dad is your boss, you somehow still work hard, even if you haven't gotten paid since the December issue...)

And 4) Interviewing for a freelance research job that a) I apparently already had, and b) which pays just about minimum wage:

at another of the area's plantations:

Ben says "hi." He's been blissfully focused on case conceptualizations, auto repair, and tapping his foot waiting for news about schools. More soon.

First Landing, French Trench

Hellloooooooo in there...

Last weekend, we spent some time in the Tidewater Basin area meandering toward, through, and promptly out of Virginia Beach.

When this year's Darwin Awards are handed out, I will be glad not to be among the recipients! (Thus far...) You know how they say that honesty is the best policy? So is foolhardy curiosity...as well as unwarranted cowardice. (Turn away, Redcoats, turn.)

Okay. So that's three "best policies." Of course, like the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, there may be a way that they are mysteriously All One. Of course, in the olden days, the brotherhood of man wasn't as widely recognized, and various groups fought with each other. But you don't have to take my word for it. Even the French, once upon a time, did more than surrender and try to prevent criminal military campaigns through diplomatic means.

Believe it or not, we can venture back even further into history. What was this continent like before Europeans landed on not-yet-Virginian shores? Was there hardscrabble vegetation there to welcome them?

Ah, yes! The first landing point (now eerily close to a military installation, albeit one with friendly guards willing to redirect GPS-emboldened-yet-mistaken tourists--*ahem*--) is pretty much what you see here. But colder. And rainier.

Clearly, there is a quiet beauty in the decaying piles and the wooden boardwalk. If you squint just right, you can almost make out No Line On the Horizon...

Thanks for waiting patiently for last weekend's travel summaries. There is even more to come, including a restaurant review!

Colonial Williamsburg

Colonial Williamsburg. 'Nuff said.

Behind these tidy-looking cottages is even more quaint colonial coziness and beauty. Who wouldn't want to work as a re-enactment actor if they could surround themselves with wee gnomish structures such as this?

Of course, there are plusses and minuses to every scheme, however well-concocted. Would you give up phone, lights, and motorcars to have a local tailor iconographically associated with an unsheared ram suspended above the ground by his midsection?

Decisions, decisions. While we play ruminating Hamlets, here's an easy call: another glimpse of old-school fence for K-dog. That's the Yorktown Battlefield, for what it's worth.

If you look closely, you can see that, in addition to the obvious wood structures, tactical terraforming has transformed the otherwise plain-like ground into centuries-old earthen berms of projectile-absorbing Old Dominion soil. Didn't Bilbo live beneath one of these things? (Let me know if you can see the circular, green door.)

Sunday: A Rainy Montage

We're working backwards blogging our weekend, beginning with Sunday morning along the James River in the Tidewater region.


Leaving Williamsburg after a lovely stay and a particularly good lunch at Food for Thought (review to come), we saw our first blooming tulips of the season. Despite the umpteenth day of bone-chilling rain, the tulips were a reminder of warm days to come. It was so nice to see beyond our own shivering and enjoy some bright blooms.

We drove west on the way home along Route 5, which is an off-shoot of the Colonial Parkway, and follows the James River where the nation's earliest farms began. The Shirley Plantation, pictured below, was chartered in 1613 by the Crown to experiment with tobacco production, and has been continuously operated by eleven generations of Shirley family. The legacy of slavery is haunting in the area, and the depth of the historical record is almost overwhelming. 1613? Incredible.

Shirley was the tail-end of our time along the river. As we hit Richmond, we were smooth sailing along the highways (well, I was snoozing; Ben was sailing), both in a rush to get back to Charlottesville, drop off a car on the other side of town, and get right back on Rt 64 west. Luckily for us, Jenna called the night before, saying she'd be driving through Rt. 81 on her way back to Atlanta after a week in Western Mass, and could we meet her in the middle of nowhere? Let's think for a second... YES! And it didn't even have to be at a Shoney's. ;-)

Here's Ben, looking around historic downtown Staunton, waiting impatiently to see our very bestest pal.

Of course, in our happiness to see our favorite seminarian, I completely forgot to take any photos (except two of her hip new ride). But you can imagine the breath of fresh air she brought to the Blue Ridges. We had a surprisingly good meal at a happy Mexican-ish restaurant, the Baja Bean Co., in the middle of the foggy mountains, with lots of catching up and plenty of relief to be around our familiar, favorite little life.

She had to be on the road again too soon, and we had a hairy ride back over Afton Mountain, which was engulfed in icy fog. But it was worth it twenty times over.

Next up, backwards in time -- both chronologically (to Saturday) and historically (to Colonial Williamsburg and Virginia Beach).

Guest Blogging by Dave

Here's some Monday morning guest blogging by Hal-Kar, who is thematically on-point and ever-wise (not to be confused with edelweiss, a beautiful Swiss flower and a catching song). Thanks, Dave! Wise warnings. We'll provide some photographic evidence of our stringent skin-safety regimen as soon as any semblance of sun returns to the Piedmont Valley. We invite anyone else reading to do the same. ;-)


Greetings Ben and Meg,

It's getting warmer and sunnier these days, so take note: The National Cancer Institute estimated that melanoma (the more serious form of skin cancer) was up in 2008. NCI dermatological researcher Dr. Kenneth Kraemer: “Sun protection is more than sunscreens. Sun protection includes avoiding the sun, using clothing to protect yourself, getting shade .., and wearing hats.” I know it's not Arizona, but I hope you packed your safari hats.

Stay safe, young scholars.
Live long and prosper,
Dave

Airlifting Supplies

This one is particularly for Karen:


see more Lolcats and funny pictures

Keep fighting the good fight!

Warming Trends

Evidence of day light savings time: Ben replacing windshield wiper blades after work last night. Thanks to his efforts, no strips of plastic are flapping in the breeze around Koala, and, should we want a clearer windshield, we can again use the blades without them shrieking or streaking (this is actually speculation, since I haven't had cause to use the news blades; I'm hoping for the best!). It was also a chance for Ben to redeem himself with automobiles, after another overheated radiator session with the Neon earlier in the afternoon.

. . .

I know that promised I wouldn't blog about a particular subject after Ben threatened no one would ever read PaidinSunshine again, but I can't help showing this photo. ;-) I won't say anymore, except that Sue and I had a lovely trip to Short Pump yesterday...

. . .

As we left the house this morning to drop him at work, Ben noticed this tree and told me to take a photo when I got back. So, here it is, alive in blooming splendor, as per request. I spotted another tree with actual, real leaves, too, but I was driving and knew better than to whip out the camera on Jefferson Park Avenue, aka the street that most resembles the obstacle courses of 8-bit Paperboy.

. . .

So, that's the news in Central Virginia. Pretty slow going, at least in a blog-able way, especially since we got Super Mario 3 for the Wii and Season I DVDs of Flight of the Conchords.

Putting that Centerpiece to Good Use

A member of the MCCC foundation board, Richard, is an NJ florist who provides the centerpieces for the dance each year. They're always beautiful, but this year, I was itching to take ours home. (And, well, I was itching because I took ours home, too, but that's another story.)

After wrangling it out of the Hyatt Saturday, the whole thing managed to survive a cooped-up 300 mile trip in the steamy, bumpy trunk.

Monday, I dismantled Richard's design to weed out the drooping specimen, and now the apartment is filled with coordinated blooms.

Bunches of flowers are such a simple, perfect way to brighten my mood. Every time I walk by Ben's desk area, I see the shocking blue-purple standing tall behind proud sunflowers, and I feel inspired again.

And, aside from the sneezing, there's really nothing wrong about a bundle of roses, any time or any where. I'll even put up with some thorns.

Ahoy, Mateys!

The theme of this year's Mercer County Community College Scholarship Gala was "All Aboard on a Sea Cruise" and you can imagine the fun we've had with the party favors.

El Captain

Skipper Kitt

And First Mate S.-S. Luke all pose with their caps.

The fundraising was a great success; we haven't heard this year's figures, but a brochure on our table reminded us that last year's dinner dance brought in enough money to cover 300 scholarships for MCCC students. We helped the cause by bidding up and paying out on a number of pieces of art (including a pen-and-ink done by an MCCC student), and there was plenty of competition for the wine and cheese baskets and the Florida vacation rentals.


Everyone was all gussied up and happy. Karen made the whole group laugh when she recycled a joke about day light savings, and the Foundation Board's video, produced by MCCC students, was a motivational tear-jerker. The food was good, the wine was flowing, the cause was a good one.

There was a rare Hal-Kar sighting,

and an even-rarer snap shot of your fair bloggsters,

a BD spring attack, caught on tape,

and the aftermath in a martini glass...

All in all, a fabulous evening for a fabulous cause, and nobody even got seasick. And, wooooow-eeee, what a knock-out that president of the board was in her red get-up, huh?

Until next year!

Two Small Food-Related Links

Through mindless blogosphere wandering and a little bit of work procrastination, I bring you two interesting food related links.

1) Trader Joe's video tribute shot on a PalmTreo, brought to you by way of Apartment Therapy and YouTube (and which I am unable to embed here; maybe it is proprietary?). We both got a real kick out of this.

2) And, in French, a blog recipe for "piocamole" -- pea guacamole -- which truly validates BD's infamous broccomole initiative but also still leaves me ... wishing for avocados? Nauseous? Forlorn? People, let's not mess with perfection.

Flakes and Fahrenheit

While I bother with unpacking and sorting this weekend's photos in blistering 75 degree heat, let's all remember last week, when we were crawling out from the snow.

Here's the picturesque UVa chapel in the aftermath, taken almost to the minute a week ago.

Happy Monday!

Lee's Surrender, Grant's Triumph

"We made a great mistake in the beginning of our struggle, and I fear, in spite of all we can do, it will prove to be a fatal mistake. We appointed all our worst generals to command our armies and all our best generals to edit the newspapers." -- General Robert E. Lee, who, for the purposes of this blog, may also be known as Saturday's Biggest Loser

Saturday, after our forays into Lynchburg, we followed the James River east toward Appomattox Court House National Historic Park, where we frolicked in the sleet with tourists from Indiana, Iowa, Ohio, Texas, Colorado, New Jersey, and some fellow Bay Staters who looked longingly at Koala's license plates.

The original Appomattox Court House burned down in the 1890s, and the McLean home, where the official surrender of the Confederate forces was signed, was razed and relocated to Washington before falling into disarray. These buildings are replications and nearby homes relocated to the site.

Lee officially surrendered on Palm Sunday, 1865, and we arrived on the first Saturday in Lent, which seemed fitting. Also, knowing there will be reenactments happening next month for the 144th anniversary, I am glad for the haphazard timing of our jaunt.

As you drive through Appomattox, NPS signs on the highway point you toward the site "Where America Reunited."

Ben, who wasn't pleased with the concept of reunion, yelled out the window, "More like 'Where the Confederacy fell to its knees and begged for forgiveness.'"

I asked him to demonstrate when we were safely inside the park, which he was happy to do under the cover of the recreated town general store.

I should have taken a photo of the rain-soaked tourists who happened to walk by the general store at precisely the wrong moment, and briefly paused with looks of utter dismay on their faces. Maybe they thought he was conjuring the bad weather?

Instead of snapping them, I saw an opportunity to please my mother and take more pictures of fences, because we all know that Karen loves her some photos of fences. Note that this particular shot depicts three varieties.

And here are some typical Civil War-era crude barracks fences.

To cleanse the palate of the Civil War, and for general good measure, let's conclude with a pretty barn near the McLean homestead:

“The art of war is simple enough. Find out where your enemy is. Get at him as soon as you can. Strike him as hard as you can, and keep moving on.” -- General Ulysses S. Grant, the (nineteenth century) Decider