Drinks With Doug

Summer's Harvest

Sunday's Weather: stalled front right over us, meaning the air is at a dead standstill, the humidity is at saturation, and the clouds constantly threaten rain but never make good.
Sunday's Drink: Iced water. Iced tea. Iced coffee.
Sunday's Head-trip: Imaginary Music for Twin Peaks:




The year is at mid-point. The heavy, wet towel that is Washington summer has yet to be come, but we've had a few tastes, that's for sure. Today among them. C and I got STG (the dog) out for an early morning romp through Fort Slocum park. The grass was still wet with last night's rain, and the air cool enough to not hate being outside.

I'm at the tail of a three-day weekend, and the middle of my year. Time to look at what's planted, what's growing, what's failing, and what to do with the fallow ground.

The house is one step closer to being finished, but still months away from last construction (although the lumber is already on my credit card.) The backyard is largely the same as it was at the start of the year, except with more insects and less ice. This is a disappointment, as I had hoped to have begun it's reconstruction. (New fences, old concrete walkway broken up and removed, regraded, flower and vegetable bed built.) Oh, at least the rats seem to have lessened. Last note on this: my herbs (basil, cilantro, rosemary, thyme, sage, parsley and oregano) have mostly grown well. Exceptions: cilantro is a little fussy, and the varegated sage didn't do as well as the standard stuff.) The front yard is tidier, more colorful, and overall more composed than ever. This makes me smile when I walk past.

2008 mid-year: another year I've kicked the job can down the road. Each year around now I see where it came to rest, consider it, and - if past is prologue - give it another swift kick. It's a year almost exactly since I launched a new product and a new phase of my career. The learning has kept me going, my talents are sharper, but I wish to take what I know and grow further. At another spot.

Staring at the can now I realize things are good on paper. I'm paid well, have a good work space, colleagues that are mostly respectful, and I'm not shoveling shit. (Well, critics might argue, but still.) But we don't work on paper. My work needs to have meaning - more meaning than just keeping my therapist paid. At present the only meaning my work provides is what I mine out of it, and I fear the vein is running dry. Mostly, for all of us, our collective situation is more akin to confusion than clarity. This does not create a good feeling at the end of the day. Or the start of a new one.

As for therapy, I'm nearing the end. For now, at least. Guess that plot has yielded its fruit and ready lay fallow a bit. Therapy is a little like house chores: you go to replace a light bulb when you notice the base is loose, and as you screw it tighter you see bad wiring, and as you open up the box you see some water damage...and the next thing you know you know you're tearing out chunks of plaster and replaining the floors. Each memory box is like that for me. Opening one up leads to two more boxes that want for opening. Next thing: I'm a kid at Christmas with a hundred open boxes scattered around me. But, as with Christmas, there's a finite number of boxes you can fit under a tree. And there's only so many memory boxes I carry around that need opening. Overall, this is good.

I haven't yet been to the new Nationals Stadium. I have not enrolled for swim lessons. I did start to go back to the gym, but fell out of the schedule soon after. I still weigh too much (though a bit less), drink too much (same) and blog too little. I have found a good number of new recipes that yield great beauty in the kitchen, have grown a bit happier with others and maybe - maybe - become a little bit better boyfriend. I have not written my friend JR the letter that lies scattered in bits in a folder in a backpack on my bedroom floor. Perhaps it's less a letter and more a rehearsal for a book. Perhaps so is this.

I'm reading more (we'll discuss "All the President's Men" soon and move onto our next DWD book) and remembering more of what I read. I'm not spending enough time with my friends - in person here in DC or online elsewhere. I've gone out to more art and theater, but seen few movies at all.

But most I am looking forward to the harvest. To bags of tomatoes that I will make into slow-cooked summer tomato sauce which I'll use for everything from now until February. I'm looking forward to seeing what several months of diet and exercise can create. I'm looking forward to breaking new sod in work and planting new crops in therapy. I'm looking forward to better ways to take stock and new recipes to make stock. And I'm looking forward to sharing all of these things and more with all my family.

No links in this post! OMG. Just didn't feel I had that much to link about.