Patio Final

The patio is done, and I think it looks really great! I couldn't recommend Meadows Farms more. They did a great job, and the workers were really professional and friendly. And they swept everything up when they were done and didn't leave a single stone behind in my grass.


It was interesting watching these guys work. The foreman's name was Scott (I guess I had to like him from the start!). He had three Mexican guys working with him. All the work they did was purely by hand. Rock hammers and hand chisels. Most of the stone was hand shaped and fit. (The larger flagstones were cut by Skilsaw with a stone-cutting blade.) It's amazing how quickly the guys worked.

Barry was asking about the stone, it's some kind of slate flagstone from China. It's got some iron content in it because the stone takes on a rusty patina that looks really nice. I'm told by the architect, Judy Brown, that the stone is actually cheaper to bring from China than from Pennsylvania. I guess they need lots of ballast for their cargo ships.

The walls are done, but the workers need to come back and backfill with topsoil. That won't happen til after the holiday.

They poured some 'polymeric sand' in the cracks--and this stuff is cool--when you mist it, it sets up as hard as epoxy. It will bond to the stone and provide a solid runoff surface for water, and it looks nice. It will also keep the stone dust from creeping out onto the stone.

Here are a couple more shots.

I'm so glad this is a project I let the professionals do. I kept considering doing this one myself, and everytime I looked at the project, it looked harder and harder. The slope is probably 3-4 feet from the top to the bottom. I finally decided not to try this one on my own. Glad I left this one to the pros.

Construction Update (Patio In Progress)

Pictures of the patio right now... as I write this:

And some of the extra help the work men have:

Construction Update (Patio, Day 2)

Here's photos from day two of the patio job. Day one was building the three stairs down from the mini-deck between the garage and the house. Day two was mostly excavation with a little wall building. Tomorrow will be day three, the last day, with the final stone laying. Should be ready to use by the weekend! (I had to pay the contractor extra because of the 'help' the boys provided.)

Postcard from Spain

"Hi Eddie,
Flat Stanley and I are at the hotel in Santiago de Compostela, Spain. We were a long way from home but you can see it was a very nice hotel. Flat Stanley really liked it there.

I will have more pictures of Flat Stanley's travels in the days to come.
Love, Grandma."

Harris, Clan of Campbell and Fletcher nee LeDuc, Clan of MacGregor

Our trip to Scotland is very near. Ed and I are very excited about this trip--all the haggis, trout, and cool mountain hiking, but we were especially excited when we learned that local visitors can actually enter themselves into the various Highland Games and toss a 40 kg hammer around, just for the thrill of it! We will be attending the games in Forres.

Of course, tradition dictates that we must wear local attire, kilt and all. So I started doing some research on our family names. I found a neat site called ElectricScotland.com, where you can research your family names and look up and order clan related merchandise.

Ed's family can be traced back by the sept of Fletchers to the clan MacGregor, a fine Scottish clan much known around the world. My own family, Harris, is a sept of the clan Campbell. What is a sept, you ask? Well, find out more on the clan description page at ElectricScotland.com.

The tartan for MacGregor is what I would call a "Christmas" tartan in the U.S., so that is what Ed will be wearing. I will be wearing the traditional "Catholic school girl" tartan of blue and green, for this is the tartan of Campbell. It shall be the Campbells versus the MacGregors. May the best man win!

If and when we actually enter these games, I will be sure to give Becky the camera. It should prove most amusing.

Major Construction Ahead

A few months ago, a lady died on the highway just behind our house. She was driving her Saturn at about 9am on a weekday morning when, for some unknown reason, she drove off the road, flipped her car, landed in the creek, and died on the spot.

It was a tragic event made more tragic by the fact that there are guardrails precisely before and after the bridge, but not on the bridge. Had there been guardrails, she would have been bounced into the road, and probably still alive.

So the town raised hell, and finally VDOT got out here to fix the bridge.

Now that the bridge is closed, and people are being detoured around the site, we are free to explore the road as pedestrians. The boys and I went down to see the work, and I took some of these pictures. Eddie and Luke thought it was cool that they could walk in the middle of the street, and we did several jumping jacks in the middle of the road, just because we could. Luke also did a little "skiddoo"--a dance move only Luke can do, where he puts his hands behind his back and kicks his feet forward like a Russian Cossack. Though the fact that Luke does this while humming the Mexican Hat Dance strips it of anything Slavic.

We're also starting major construction on our new patio. The workers are supposed to start excavation tomorrow. Stay tuned for updates on that... if the men can work in this deluge of rain we've been getting.

Garden Update

It's been a weekend full of rain showers, some of them surprisingly strong. In between cloud bursts, I was able to snap a few photos of the current batch of flowers. I'm particularly pleased with the Beebalm (Mondara didyma) aka Bergamot (anybody for some Earl Grey Tea)? The sunflowers were also a welcome addition. Also shown here are Eddie's Dianthus, the first of the Buddleia, Yarrow, and Daylilies.

This weekend, we also got the first ripe lemon in five years from our Meyer Lemon tree. It's also the first lemon we've actually grown on our own. The other lemon we harvested off the tree actually came with the tree. So we squeezed it into a glass and made lemonade. (When life gives you lemons... )

The lemonade was good, and we've got about a dozen more ready to be ripe soon, so hopefully we can do something cool with them! Maybe a pie.

Flying Home Fantasy

According to my GPS, we're at 36,900 feet, flying at 560 mph (ground speed), somewhere over the Navajo Nation (the Naabeehó Dine'é) in northern New Mexico. Large flat plateaus, intermittent stony buttes and deep crevices decorate the landscape below while fluffy white cottonball clouds provide welcome shade to the desert below. It's a stark contrast from the patchwork quilt of green trees and meadows I'm used to in Virginia. Though it's probably 100 degrees down there, up here in the cabin, it's a comfortable 75 degrees.

The 757 I'm on is taking me home. Away from breezy seaside restaurants and haut cuisine, back to the familiarity of 90 degree heat and humidity, and the welcoming lap of my family. After eating nothing but the likes of Vitello Picata al Limone (my inevitible favorite at Italian joints) and Pecan Crusted Sea Bass with Maple Demi-Glaze, I am happily awaiting a dinner tonight of cheese-wieners and oven-baked onion rings and tater tots. And another weekend of lawn mowing. Ahhhhh, the good life!

It was a good trip to San Diego this week. Every time I make one of these trips, I wish so much that I could bring Becky and the boys. Every little thing—every sign, every shop, every restaurant—I think, "Boy, Luke (or Eddie, or Becky) would like this thing. I wish they could see it." Whatever it is, whether it's a bunch of seals on the beach, or a gallery of Dr. Seuss original artwork, there's always something to see on these trips, and I wish my family could be here by my side.

Of course, without the family here, it leaves room for some 'interesting moments' that wouldn't ordinarily happen. For instance, last night, after dinner in La Jolla, Dan and Doug had to split right away so that they could make their red-eye back to DC. That left me alone at the dinner table with Theresa and Teresa (the two Theresas, as I call them).

Now, don't start letting the soundtrack to Boogie Nights play in your head. It was nothing like that. The ladies decided they wanted to shop, and they walked into some froo-froo store that sells ladies clothing. Walking or waiting for women in clothing stores, for me, is punishment worse than death, and a grueling ordeal that I have endured since the early days of following my mother through department stores. I loath women's clothing stores.

So, I politely told the two Theresas that I would wait for them in the Häagen Daaz. After one small mocha-chip cone, they showed no signs of coming out, so I wandered across the street to an art gallery—one like you'll only see in La Jolla. They had an intriguing collection of the "Secret Works" of Dr. Seuss. Apparently, Theodor Geisel enjoyed painting more than just for his books, and had a collection of beautiful art which he held back until after his death. Much of it was rather "adult" themed, and all of it was really striking. At first glance, it looked like regular modern art, but if you looked closely enough, you could always pick out a trademark Dr. Seuss icon. It really was wonderful stuff.

I'm standing in this gallery, quietly admiring the art, when an impossibly beautiful young brunette comes up to me and starts talking to me. This never happens to me, even in California, so I am instantly nervous. It quickly becomes obvious that she is a gallery worker, and is probably trying to sell me something. We chat politely about the paintings, and she just doesn't seem to want to walk away. Then, we're talking about traveling, and life in La Jolla, and all kinds of stuff, and soon, none of it is about the paintings. She's either really trying to sell me a painting, without being obvious about it, or she's actually interested in me. (Surely not.)

Then, she tells me she's not American, that's she's Swedish. "Oh, that's interesting," I tell her, "my wife has been to Sweden, and my wife tells me it's wonderful." Doesn't seem to phase her. (She really wants to sell me a painting?)

At this point, for some subconscious reason, my forehead is now sweating. I notice it and flush, feeling like a fool, but she remains extremely friendly, even standing a bit closer than what is really considered normal. Damn, I think to myself, I am going to have to buy one of these paintings. She's good.

"How much is this one?" I ask, thrusting my hand out and pointing at the first one I see.

"Twenty seven hundred," she replies.

Great, that's just what I need. The painting is actually affordable! Now, what in the hell would Becky say if I walked home with a friggin' 20x30 oil painting of Dr. Suess? Not exactly something you hang in the dining room, and for two-almost-three grand, I'm sure as hell not hanging it in the boys' rooms.

At this point, the two Theresas walk in and spy me talking to the art lady. Theresa (with an H) gives me a look… that "funny" look like, "What do you think you are you doing?" with a big smirk on her face. The Theresas start chatting with me in that very loud and obvious way that says, "We're with him. And we're co-workers." So my Swedish friend asks if we're here for a conference, and the conversation cools off about 20 degrees.

The "id" part of me looks at the Theresas and says, "Thanks, you two. Thanks a lot. Thanks a whole hell of a lot! She's Swedish for crying out loud!!! Swedish!!"

Teresa (without an H) then takes such an interest in the Dr. Seuss art, and starts asking my Swedish friend so many questions, that she is compelled to try to sell her a painting. In a desperate attempt to get out of there with, first, my pride at the illusion of being sought after, and second, with my checkbook still intact and no painting under my arm, I disengage myself and begin to wander through the rest of the gallery.

Of course, it's then that I notice a gorgeous painting by an Armenian named Yuroz. The painting is a dark grayish portrait of a lady with ruby lips holding a glass of dark red wine. Very simple, almost Picasso like. Beautiful. I must find out more, so I return to my Swedish friend and ask her about it. She explains the painting and the artist in great detail and takes it out of the display so I can look more closely. Then she goes to her desk to look up the price.

The painting is beautiful, and getting more and more hard to resist. I would love to own this one. The lady in the painting is so sad, so reflective, and the wine seems to provide her so much comfort. I'm sure Becky would love it, and I have just the place to hang it at home.

"Twenty thousand dollars," she tells me, returning to my side. I nearly choke on my own spit.

"It.. It's very nice," I stammer. "So, Teresa, are you going to buy that Dr. Suess print?" I ask, trying to change the subject.

Finally, I make an ungraceful departure, but not before surrendering my mailing information so that I can get a brochure from the gallery every month. And Sofia (for I finally learn her name) thrusts her card into my hand and tells me to call her if I decide about the Yuroz.

The two Theresas and I walk down the street, returning to the car. They're teasing me about flirting with the girl, when I clearly was not. Clearly. But I can't help but wonder, did she really want to sell me a painting? Or was it something else she was interested in? You be the judge. I know what I think.

Now, when will those tater tots be ready? I'm starving!!

San Diego and the Adventures of Flat Stanley

This evening finds me back in San Diego for a business trip. Becky and the boys are still day camping while I am here in sunny San Diego, where it's 80 degrees and zero humidity and absolutely gorgeously sunny. And I'm sitting in a windowless room with sterilized A/C air all day looking at view-graphs.

It's actually quite nice out, and at least after our meetings were over, we were able to go to a nice restaurant in Del Mar. We ate at Posiedon's on the Beach, which had pretty good food, but our particular waitress was excrutiatingly slow. It was as if she completely forgot about us for a whole hour during the meal... no water refills, no "How you doing?", nothing. That, and the sea bass was pretty bland; I wish I had gotten the scallops. They looked better.

However, I was able to dip my toes in the Pacific and pick up a couple of beach rocks for the boys. (When I say "dip my toes," what I really mean is attempt to dip my toes, and thereby get caught by a much-larger-than-expected wave which soaked my jeans up to the crotch! That was before dinner, so I had to sit through dinner like that.)

Also, the hotel is pretty nice. We're at the Comfort Inn near the airport. It's not exactly the Ritz--it is right off the highway, and pretty noisy, but they have a great weight room and the rooms seem pretty clean, and at least there aren't any hookers on our street.

Meanwhile, in Minnesota, we have begun the adventures of Flat Stanley, who is starting a world-wide tour of various unknown places. He started with a tour of New Ulm, and miracle of miracles, he convinced Nana to embrace a snake! I don't know how he did it, because Nana's always been deathly afraid of snakes, but he did it nonetheless. And here's the picture to prove it!

Yesterday, we had a short, but very nice, visit with Dad. He's in DC testifying in front of some governmental body about whether or not the Japanese are dumping tin in the country at unreasonable prices. Be that as it may, it was a good excuse to see him, so we dragged the boys down to Fairfax, and we all ate dinner at the Malibu Grill. Dad couldn't believe it was an all-you-can-eat rotisserie meat place. It's the boys' absolute favorite place in Fairfax--they call it the "Double Meat Palace"--and the boys insist we go there every time they're at my work. Not exactly light fare, but it's good to splurge once in a while.

Anyhow, I think Dad enjoyed seeing the boys and Becky and I, and we were able to celebrate his Father's Day in person.

Eddie's Rose and Father's Day Wrap-Up

Eddie's Purple Tiger J&P roses are progressing nicely. Barry was asking about them, so here they are. It was pretty late to be planting bareroot roses, but I think if we keep them watered, they will do just fine. They look healthy so far, and all the shoots are nice and green.

Father's day today was both fun and chaotic. I received a new Weber grill for father's day, and had fun assembling it, until I realized that I had two totally full obsolete propane cylinders which wouldn't mate with the new grill. After much looking around for an adapter, I was forced to exchange the full tanks for new ones, at the price people pay for returning empty tanks. (Basically, I donate the propane in them to Home Depot... not exactly my desire.)

Then, once I get them home, the first tank I hook up leaks. (I was doing the soap test, like you're supposed to.) Dang-it! So I grab the second tank, and it doesn't leak, which is good, because I don't want this to be a problem with the grill that I just bought! But I still have to trek back to Home Depot to return the tank I just got. Frustrating.

The fun part was when Becky took me and the boys to brunch at Magnolia's. We had prime rib, omelets, pancakes, and (not the natural brunch beverage) a nice tall lager! (Hey, it is father's day, after all.) So that part of the day was pretty nice. It was also really nice to have Eddie helping me put the grill together. He was a big help.

Happy Father's Day

Happy Father's Day!



Oh yeah, and me too.

Garden Blooms

What's blooming in my garden as we approach summer?

Petunias to make a hummingbird crazy with envy, asian lilies, coneflowers, stargazer lilies, Zepherine Drouhin rose (with thistle seeds, that's not poop!), Nastertium, and Becky's Dragon-wing begonia.

For Luke

This is Luke's favorite song......

Mid Atlantic Brew Tours -- Arlington Tour

Mid Atlantic Brew Tours is going to Arlington!

After the success of the first trip, MABT is now heading to Arlington on July 22 to visit two breweries:

• Rock Bottom Brewery in Arlington
• Capitol City Brewing Company in Shirlington

For more information, please see this brochure.

St. Peter's Choir

Here's yet another video of Eddie (and this time, his Mom and the rest of the adult choir) singing at St. Pete's.

This is a really nice performance, and you can see the kids are getting a lot better. It's fun to watch this one and see that as the energy in the performance increases, Eddie becomes amused and pleased with the whole performance.

Cub Scout Picnic

Eddie and Luke had their cub scout picnic today. Eddie graduated into the Bear den, and Luke is now in the Tiger den.

Becky took these pictures of the boys, and frankly, they're the best ones I've seen of them all year!

Beer!

Benjamin Franklin said: "Beer is living proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy."

If that is so, today was a very happy day. Seven lucky people, myself included, embarked on the inaugural tour of Mid-Atlantic Brew Tours. (For more info, contact jimalvis at hotmail dot com.)

We started off in the parking lot of JC Penney's at Dulles Town Center, Reston Limo providing the very plush ride. Shortly after 10:45am, we arrived at Thoroughbreds in Leesburg. Thoroughbreds is a small microbrewery/restaurant, in business little more than a year. We were soon greeted by Kevin Kozak, master brewer and bar manager. Kevin started off the tour telling us about his previous night's brewing:

Since the restaurant cannot be open when the brewing is done, Kevin must arrive at 11pm and brew through the night, usually ending his "day" at 10:30am, where, exhausted, he sits down at the bar and has his first beer of the day, before going home to bed. Last night, though, when Kevin got to work, he was greeted by the business end of two police revolvers.

"Let us see your hands!" they demanded.

Kevin froze, and quietly explained to the cops that he was not a prowler, but worked at the restaurant. Apparently, the bluegrass music blaring from the speakers in the restaurant was a giveaway, and they believed him. Just another day at the brew-pub!

I don't know if it was because we started at Thoroughbreds, and my tastebuds weakened as the day wore on, but I felt the best beer we drank was at Thoroughbreds. The very first beer, the German-style lager was excellent--as good as any lager I'd ever had in Germany. Crisp, golden, and full of body, it was delicious! Kevin's going to be entering it in the lager division of the Great American Beer Festival later this month, and I hope he wins.

We got a good tour of the modest brewing facilities, with a great explanation of the malting and hopping processes. Larissa, the bartender, served us some great beers, and it was really cool to have Kevin, who made each one, explain the styles and ingredients.

Apparently, the bar still serves the more mundane American beers, due, unfortunately, to popular demand--Bud Light, Michelob Ultra--but the staff have become snobbish (in the good, proper way!) about these beers. Larissa explained that when large studly men come and sit at her tables and order Michelob Ultras, she often quips, "You ladies want fruit with that beer?"

Later, we ate an enormous lunch (bratwursts, sauerkraut, wings and onion rings), and then headed for Sweetwater Tavern. Kevin, who didn't have to work, came with us.

At Sweetwater, we met Dean Lake, the brewer at the Sterling establishment. Again, we had some excellent beers, with some real stand-outs. The favorite among most drinkers was the Boot Hill Brown Ale, a traditional English brown ale, to which the only description most could give was that it was "brown." My more sophisticated write-up noted, "caramel, chocolate malt, black malt, moderately hoppy." But I was just writing down everything Dean said about it verbatim. I'd make a good stenographer.

The real standout at Sweetwater was the Giddyup Stout. This one is brewed with real coffee. They cold-brew the coffee for 3-4 days. Cold brewing avoids the astringency one gets with hot-brewed coffee. The beer was so smooth--it tasted like a fine German coffee chocolate bar. The coffee flavor was totally compatible with the beer, whilst standing out from it at the same time. The aroma was Starbucks, the flavor something all to itself.

After another tour at Sweetwater, where we learned about fermentation and storage, we headed on to Old Dominion Brewery.

Old Dominion is by far the largest brewery in the region. They handle something like 40,000 kegs a month (compared to 500 kegs a month at Thoroughbreds). They didn't have anybody ready to give us the personal treatment, so Kevin, who works there from time to time, stepped in to give us the tour.

We saw a pretty huge bottling and shipping operation, enormous fermentation vats. (I'm quite sure the beer-o-philes don't call them vats, but I don't know what they do call them.) It was a huge operation, and they brew something like 30 different beers at one time--a staggering variety of beers.

Some of the ODB beers were excellent, and one was frankly pretty bad. The bad one, Brewer's Art, so I was informed, tasted "diacidal," a by-product taste of the yeast, a taste of beer gone bad. The beer tasted like movie theater popcorn--very buttery. Not good.

But the excellent beers, my personal favorites, were the Oak Barrel Stout (very oaky, chocolatey goodness) and the Millennium Ale Barley Wine. This latter one clocks in at 12% alcohol and goes down more like a fine wine than a cheap beer. At nearly $30 per sixpack, it better!

The Crystal was a filtered Hefeweisse which looked like a lager, but with your eyes closed, you'd swear it was a good Hefe: bananas, lemons, and a yeasty finish. Through it all, I diligently filled in my tasting chart, and it's clear that as the beer ran on, my judging abilities became impaired.

Luckily, I have a lovely wife who was willing to play chauffeur, and nobody had to drive home.

Thanks to Jim Alvis, the director of the tour and a good friend, for putting on an excellent, informative, and quite tasty tour!

Prost!

~~~~~

For fun, take a look at my tasting notes, and you can see how the judging became less structured as the day progressed and the beer flowed.

~~~~~