Over the weekend, I noticed that someone stole the Bell’s Beer sticker off the back window of our car. It may have happened over Halloween, I haven’t been paying that much attention to the car. I like to think that the person who did it felt that I was promoting drinking and driving, and stole the sticker as a protest. I wasn’t, for the record, promoting drinking and driving – one of the huge advantages about living somewhere like Columbia Heights is that there are tons of places you can go drink where you never ever ever have to drive home. Wonderland, Marx Cafe, Saint Ex, all fantastic bars that I can walk to easily, not to mention everything on U Street and Adams Morgan. Anyway, if the person felt I was making a statement like that, then I forgive you for your misguided attempt to make the world a better place. If not, however, I hope you got a paper cut from the sticker. It’s not a big deal in either case – those stickers only last a year or so, and I’ll be back in Kalamazoo next month, when I planned to get a new sticker anyway. If anyone who works for Bell’s is listening – how about some inside-window stickers so it’s safe from the elements and from would-be thieves?
Tag: harvardstreet
The hard streets of Columbia Heights
I was out with the kid on a trip to DCUSA for a few pictures frames this evening. She got mad when I stopped to look at frames in Bed Bath and Beyond, so I thought I’d take the long way home and give her a chance to settle down. I was heading south down 13th NW, about to cross Harvard, when there was a bit of a commotion. It looked like someone driving north on 13th was trying to turn left onto Harvard, which is one way in the other direction. There was plenty of honking. “What an idiot,” I thought. “The signs and the honking aren’t tipping him off?” Then a man got out of the car, which was now stopped in the middle of the intersection. He was holding a shotgun. Now, at this point I was a little nervous. The kid was sleeping, which I suppose was good, but her big fuzzy winter outfit is not, in fact, bulletproof. Then I saw all the police cars. More arrived as I stood there. The man with the gun was DCPD. That was mildly comforting. More officers poured out of the cars, at least a dozen. They quickly went up the walk to the northwest corner of Harvard and 13th and banged on the door. At this point I decided I was going to take my daughter and get out of there. Before I left, the police had entered the building, and I could hear them yelling at someone to get down. I’ve never seen the police break down a door. And in truth, I didn’t actually see them open the door. But I don’t think anyone let them in. I’m going to watch the Columbia Heights forum to see if anyone knows what happened. Hopefully the police got whoever they were after and no one got hurt.
DC parking ticket adjudicator lacks sense of humor, soul
I finally contested a parking ticket and lost. That puts my record at 5-1, which is still pretty good. And technically this ticket was the wife’s, so I probably could still call myself undefeated. In any event, DC’s parking enforcement extortion officers got us for parking within five feet of an alley. This rule is especially absurd because DC stubbornly refuses to paint curbs red to indicate that parking is not allowed. This is, of course, because they want you to get a ticket. It’s certainly not because the city cares where you park. Look at the boot system. That is a system designed for maximum revenue and driver inconvenience, not for keeping our streets clear of illegally parked cars. If they really cared where you parked, they’d tow you for violations, not lock your car in place. Anyway, they didn’t buy my argument. And it was a weak argument, I admit. But it was civil and in complete sentences, so I thought maybe they’d give me the benefit of the doubt.
To Whom It May Concern: I am writing to contest a parking ticket, citation #[unimportant], that I received on Monday, July 21st, 2008, for parking less than five feet from an alley. In my haste to move the car because the ticket indicated that towing was requested, I did not notice that the ticket was for parking on the 1300 block of Harvard St NW. The car was on the 1400 block, just across the street from my house, where I’ve parked numerous times in the past. I realize that you can’t just take me at my word. I have lived on Harvard St for about a year and a half. In that time, I have parked on blocks besides the 1400 block fewer than a dozen times, and never on a Monday. Every Monday at 6:30PM, you can see all the residents of the block who don’t have off-street parking move their cars from the north side of the street to the south side. The south side is usually closed to parking during rush hour, but after 6:30 it’s open, and on Tuesdays, the north side is scheduled for street cleaning. So the minute the south side opens up to parking, those of us who live here move our cars. At 7:31PM, when the ticket was issued, the south side of the street had been open to parking for only an hour. That side of the street never fills up until much later in the evening, so there would never be a reason for me to park on the 1300 block of Harvard rather than my block (1400 block), as the ticket stated. I have to admit that I’m a little paranoid about my car being ticketed, and this causes me to pay a lot of attention to parking on our street and to ticketed cars. Every day, there is a car parked in the spot where I received the ticket. Some of these cars are within five feet of the alley, and some are not. But not once have I seen a car parked there with a ticket that wasn’t clearly violating some other parking rule. For example, during the day a residential parking permit is required, and frequently I’ve seen cars with VA or MD tags with tickets. I know that ignorance of the law is no excuse, but if this particular violation was enforced with any sort of regularity, I would have become aware of it. But it is hardly reasonable to expect me to assume that behavior I see go unpunished every day is anything but legal. Further, the ticket incorrectly cites me for parking on a block where my car was not parked. I live, work, and pay taxes in the District, and I endeavor at all times to park legally. For these reasons and those above, I would greatly appreciate it if you would forgive this parking ticket. I am also curious – the ticket itself states that I have 60 days to contest, which I am timely doing now. However, I subsequently received a letter indicating the ticket doubled because I did not answer in 30 days. If it is decided that I do in fact owe money for this ticket, I would appreciate that the cost of the ticket revert back to $20 since I have answered within the 60 day window. Thank you very much for your time. Sincerely, [A frustrated DC resident]
They also only give you five days from the postmark on your rejection letter to pay the ticket. I’m inclined to write a check just so I can write something unpleasant in the memo field, but I probably shouldn’t. They did, however, only charge $20, so I guess that’s some sort of partial victory.
It would have been a disappointing time
Originally uploaded by thetejon
Except that I haven’t run in months. My first 10K since my foot surgery was both my worst time ever and a great success. My official time was 57:48, a 9:18 pace, which is well off my personal best of 49:38, but that personal best was in April, and since then I’ve had foot surgery and run less than 20 miles total, I don’t think this was so bad. It was frustrating to be so slow, and to not have that extra bit at the end. But after more than five months of almost no running, I expected it. I like the course – it’s at West Potomac Park, just south of the Mall, and right on the water. It’s flat and wide and scenic. The Run Geek Run 8K is going to be at the same place in a few weeks, and I’m thinking about running it, but I know I won’t have much of a chance to run between now and then, so I won’t do much better than I did this weekend.
Like a poison dart frog, it’s there to warn you away
The telltale signs will vary – a popped collar, big aviator glasses, whatever the well-dressed DC bar junkie with too much disposable income is using to woo unsuspecting (read: drunk) young women in Georgetown or Dupont – but it’s never too hard to pick out the douchebags. I know, that’s not a really nice word, but I can’t think of anything with a connotation that more closely matches the type of person I’m describing. Anyway, a few weeks back, a guy got on the 16th Street bus (At U St, big surprise) wearing jeans, an untucked button-down shirt, and aviator glasses. My first thought was, “Why do you wear those ridiculous glasses?”. I know it shouldn’t bother me, but it did – I was annoyed that he looked like an idiot. But then I thought a little more. This guy is actually doing me a favor. There is no chance I want to talk to the guy. They say you can’t judge a book by its cover, but I judged this guy, and I know I was right. His glasses, though, are a big warning sign. If he looked like a normal guy who didn’t spend an hour getting ready to go out, I might not know he was a douchebag without talking to him. I might actually waste thirty seconds talking to a guy I would most certainly want to punch. The poison dart frogs use their bright colors to warn away predators, screaming, “I’m poisonous! Don’t eat me!”. This guy uses his glasses to yell, “I’m annoying! Ignore me!”. This is really an important milestone in the evolution of the human race. In fact, if we wait another few generations, we may all self-identify ourselves so accurately that I will never have to talk to another useless person again. It will be easier when we all have location-aware social networking mobile computer/phones and you can check the Facebook profile of the person next to you on the bus. So, next time I see one of these guys, I won’t be so annoyed. In fact, I might even thank him for warning me.
Welcome to the world, Adelina
Originally uploaded by thetejon
Well, that was certainly an experience. At exactly 9AM Friday morning, Adelina Sheehy Renaut was born at the DC Developing Families Center in Northeast. It was pretty quick, as these things go – the wife went into labor around 7:15 PM Thursday, and we were at the birth center at 7:30 Friday. I’m not sure it felt so quick to her, though. The baby was 8 pounds, 2 ounces, and 21 1/2 inches long. I think she has my eyes. We got a lot of puzzled looks from people when we told them we were doing a natural birth at a birthing center, with midwives instead of doctors. Not that I have anything to compare it to, but our experience was fantastic. Our doula, Heather Wilson, was amazing. I’m not sure I would have made it through the experience without her. A doula, for those that don’t know and won’t read the Wikipedia page, is basically a birth coach/assistant. She came to the house before we went to the birth center, and she sat with us and helped and gave advice and did everything you could possibly think of to make the experience easier for us. Then she came with us to the birth center, and worked with the midwives as if they’d known each other for years. She’s also responsible for most of the photos taken just after Addy (Addie?) was born.
Originally uploaded by thetejon
The birth center is really more like a hotel than a hospital. One of the frequent complaints I’ve heard from dads is that there is no place for the at the hospital. The best they can hope for is an uncomfortable chair. The birth center had a bed big enough for two, and also a great couch that I easily could have slept on if that had been necessary. It was a private room, with a private bathroom. And the midwives never left us. It wasn’t like a hospital doctor, who might check in now and again. At least one of our midwives, Sierra and Lisa, was there every moment until they gave us some time alone after the baby was born. And even then, Sierra was just down the hall, available whenever we needed her. And they never took her out of the room. The first time Addy left the room where she was born was when she left with us to come home around 7:30PM (Much earlier than they would have let us leave if we were at the hospital). So, all that to say, if you’re having a baby, or planning to have one soon, and don’t think there are options besides the hospital, there are. Check out the birth center. Talk to a doula. It’s pretty crazy, being a dad. I look at her and still have a hard time believing she’s my daughter. But she’s pretty amazing.
Clean bill of health for me, but no baby yet
Just got back from the podiatrist – I am completely medically cleared to run, jump, dance, and generally frolic about on my surgically repaired foot. If you are looking for a podiatrist in the DC area, I highly recommend Dr. Ian Beiser. Every aspect of my experience with him and his practice was excellent, and I will definitely go back next time I’m in need of podiatric (is that a word? Firefox doesn’t think so, but Firefox’s dictionary is often a bit lacking.) services. That means I can play flag football this weekend if I’m up to it, and I can slowly start getting ready for my 10K next month (Although with about 30 days to go, I can’t imagine I’m going to be all that prepared). But there’s no baby yet. The wife has an appointment today, and maybe they’ll have something insightful to tell us, but as far as I know we’re just waiting. We have until September 24th before they’ll induce her, and I think that will be plenty of time. I’ve been trying to tell the kid about how great it is out here, but it doesn’t seem convinced.
Happy hour at Target?
I was just at Target at DCUSA picking up some aluminum foil and some other stuff so we (read: the wife) can cook stuff to freeze for quick post-baby dining. And also so I could cook some soy-free seitan (Note: URL is not safe for work. At least, if your work doesn’t like profanity. It’s probably safe, but I just like to warn people just in case). Anyway, school is clearly back in session. The escalator into Target was mobbed, and there were literally thousands of kids running around buying up dorm supplies. Well, maybe not thousands. But a lot. And I love that the vast majority seemed to be coming up the escalators, meaning that they walked or took the Metro rather than driving. Maybe that’s more a function of not owning cars than green city living, but I’ll take what I can get.
From the farmers market to your table at Poste
If you’re looking for a unique and interesting dinner in DC on a Thursday night, look no further. You have to make reservations in advance (Which requires a form. A form to fax in to get a dinner reservation. I feel so important.), and it books up (Although not last night), but the “To Market/To Market” dinner at Poste at Gallery Place is a fantastic way to spend a Thursday evening. We were supposed to go last week for our anniversary (My surprise for the wife, thanks to my coworker for the recommendation), but they were already booked. So we went tonight, and were the only ones doing the special dinner. The evening begins with greetings from the chef and your server. Then you’re whisked off to the farmers market across the street. We got a tour from the guy who runs it, and got to hear about all the different farmers who sell things there, and a little about what they sell. It’s a very warm and inviting atmosphere. And there’s a good chance you’ve eaten food from there even if you didn’t go yourself – many DC chefs show up there at opening with huge carts to take back to their respective restaurants. After the tour, we got a tour of the garden at Poste, which is inside their charming little courtyard, just past people drinking fruity martinis and glasses of wine. They grow all sorts of stuff to supplement what they buy. We got to taste their spinach leaves, which the chef picked while we were standing there. And then dinner. It’s a little pricey, and the organic wine pairing is also not cheap, but it’s a ton of food, and it’s delicious. We started with amuse-bouche. There was a salmon tartar with dijon mustard in a funny sweetish cone that was really good. My favorite was the yellowtail with fruit. They had fried squash blossom with cheese, and a very salty oyster. The second course was a gazpacho that I didn’t like very much. But the wife thought it was great, so I conclude that I just don’t like gazpacho. Next was a tomato salad, which was great. Different kinds of tomatoes, prepared different ways, with some fresh cheese from the market. And then fish with a mushroom sauce for me, and a pistou (Apparently French pesto – who knew?). Which brings me to another point – I mentioned when making the reservation that the wife eats seafood but no other meat, and that she can’t stand mushrooms, and they made sure not to serve her either one. That was followed by the “main course”. All the courses were small, but it ended up being plenty of food. I suppose that’s what happens when you have so many courses. Anyway, my main course was rabbit, which was delicious. I would never have ordered rabbit if I were choosing from a menu, but it was good. A little more meaty than chicken, I thought. The wife had ravioli with cheese and nettles from the garden, which was also delicious. That’s the hidden benefit of a partner who doesn’t eat meat – if your dinner has meat in it, you can taste hers and not share yours. Marry a vegetarian who can cook, kids – you won’t regret it. And finally the dessert course. There was a cheesecake with blackberries and sweet corn ice cream (Yes, I know that’s weird. Yes, it was good). There was a chocolate mousse, and olive oil cake with rosemary, dates, and creme fraiche ice cream. Just when we thought we were done, they brought out peaches, poached in paper, with a honey cheese sauce. They were fantastic, as well. And on the way out, they gave us little mason jars, one with pickled heirloom tomatoes, and one with apricot jam. If I did it again, I might skip the wine pairing. They were all good – I was especially surprised by the muscat that they served first, because I don’t generally like sweet wine, but it was very light and pleasant. But the wines were all white or rose. I would have liked a nice dry red. I suppose it doesn’t pair with summer vegetables, but they could make up an excuse and no one would call them on it. Except maybe super food snobs, and no one cares what they think, anyway. I wish I’d written down the wines we had (Well, I had, and the wife tried. It’s funny – the tables are high enough that you can’t really see that she’s pregnant), but I didn’t think to bring a notepad. The service was great. We got a lot of attention from a number of different people, and never had to wait long when we needed a server. The atmosphere in the restaurant was good, although the bathroom is quite a hike (Through the hotel lobby, around the corner, up the stairs, down the hall). The bar had a very Happy Hour crowd, although it wasn’t unpleasant. At the end of the night, we were quite happy with our evening. It was a lot of money, but it was also a lot of food, all of it delicious (Unless you don’t like gazpacho). If you love white wines and some sweetish light reds, go for the wine pairing, but if you’re more of a dry red person, you’re probably better off ordering your own wine. But we would definitely go back. And I think we’ll be visiting the farmers market sometimes, too – it’s nice to know about a market during the week, since so many are open only on a weekend day.
Forget playing, this mouse is having Five Guys
The wife having dinner with a coworker down on U Street is a perfect reason to venture over to everyone’s favorite greasy bag of french fries, Five Guys. I’m not sure how Columbia Heights survived without them. Of course, Five Guys isn’t really helping my waistline. And the months of relative inactivity since I stopped running due to the bunion help even less. But soon that will be no more! I wore shoes yesterday, and today my flip-flops were nearly comfortable. I’ll give shoes another try tomorrow as I actually have to go into the office. And that means I can get back to running soon. I have a 10K in six weeks that I’m woefully unprepared for, so that should help a lot. It would certainly be embarrassing if it turned out that I’ve gained more weight than the wife in the last nine months.