I haven’t blogged all winter.  I’ve been in hibernation, I guess.  Winter isn’t my best season, no matter where I live.  It’s better here than Washington State.  The sky is brighter, the days are longer and while it is cold and the wind blows, the sun does shine, however low in the sky. 

Now the time has changed, baseball season has begun and the blooming of the cherry blossoms marks the official start of spring (and tourist season) in DC.  Last year, we were here on vacation during the Cherry Blossom Festival and I remember thinking to myself that they are pretty, but we had blossoms just as beautiful in Washington.  I didn’t really get the hype.  Now that I have spent a winter here, I understand it.

In Western Washington, no matter what time of year it is, it’s green.  In fact, it’s something that I remember people marveling about upon visiting for the first time…”It’s so green”, they always say.  Yes, 8 months of rain will have that effect.  So, when the cherry blossoms mark the arrival of spring, you now have a splash of color against the colorful green background.  It’s beautiful and I looked forward to it every year.

Here, winter is stark and gray.  Trees are abundant, but they lose their leaves and everything just looks dead.  This is the canal that runs along my route to work — it gives you a good idea of what things look like around here in the winter.

It’s not much to look at.  As a point of reference, here is a picture of the cherry trees that line the Tidal Basin in DC.  It looks kind of pretty with the snow, but I couldn’t find one without the snow — because quite frankly, there would be no reason to take such a picture.   It’s just not that pretty.

But, then the blossoms bloom and it changes everything.  All of a sudden there is color against the dull, bleak, bare winter.  It’s absolutely magnificent and understand now why people flock to them.

Visiting DC during the Cherry Blossom Festival has been compared to going to Disney World at Christmas.  It is a zoo and you need to pack every bit of patience that you have.  Perhaps living here requires even more patience.  But, it really is worth seeing.  If you haven’t, put it on your bucket list.

One of the interesting things that I’ve noticed about living here is the difference in food choices in grocery stores and restaurants.  I’ve mentioned before that we live in an area that has a very large Jewish population — and it definitely has an influence on food choices and prices.  Rye bread is the most obvious to me.  Everything seems to be on rye bread.  I remember the first time I had rye bread.  I was young…probably 5 or 6 and I remember so clearly ordering a patty melt at a restaurant.  It sounded so grown up and looked delicious….that is until I bit into it and had an immediate gag reflex from the taste of the rye.  And since we didn’t have a lot of money and wasting food was frowned upon, I suffered through that sandwich, picking out the rye seeds as I went.  To this day, I will not eat rye bread.   There is this wonderful little deli across the street from our apartment and the first time I ordered a sandwich but on something other than rye, I was afraid I was going to get thrown out, Soup Nazi style.  My favorite bread is Sourdough — and I’m used to it being a choice on a menu.  Not here.  You sort of get a strange, side-ways look if  you ask for sourdough bread so we’ve learned not to.  You can find it in the grocery store, but it’s never a very large selection, never the best brands and always very expensive.

Also, I had never seen beef bacon before I moved here.  I think that beef bacon probably falls in the same category as turkey bacon — not really bacon and why bother?…..but if you don’t eat pork to begin with, I imagine you don’t really know the difference.  Anyway, I noticed beef bacon for the first time right before Rosh Hashanah (which, by the way is similar to Thanksgiving when it comes to grocery shopping — I will remember this next year and avoid the store, but someday I want to be invited to a Rosh Hashanah gathering!)…I was stocking up on the buy one get one free maple infused pork bacon when it caught my eye.  Then I started paying attention….pork is relatively cheap here…which makes perfect sense. 

On the completely opposite spectrum, there are also a lot of Pennsylvania Dutch decendents in this area (Pennsylvania Dutch are actually Pennsylvania Deutsche — German born immigrants who settled in eastern Pennsylvania).  They eat a lot of pork.  The Pennsylvania Deutsche were frugal people who believe in salvaging all of the pork parts.  Enter Scrapple.  It’s really a sort of pork mush. It’s dictionary defined as “cornmeal mush made with the meat and broth of pork, seasoned with onions, spices and herbs and shaped into loaves for slicing and frying.”  The word, scrapple originates from “scrap” or “scrappy” meaning made up of odds and ends for that’s exactly what it is—boiled, ground leftover pig scraps with cornmeal and spices thrown in.  Most often, it seems to be a breakfast food, but I’ve seen it in sandwiches and casseroles, too.  I am usually pretty adventurous when it comes to food, but I’m not going there.  Reminds me of the time my step-dad tried to convince me to eat head cheese.  But this was the same guy who encouraged Alka-Selzer over Pepto Bismol for a stomach ache, so I knew not to trust him.

And then there is Vrapple.  It’s the Vegan Breakfast treat that “kicks the CRAP out of Scrapple”.

We don’t eat nearly as much seafood as we used to now….salmon is usually farm raised and injected with pink dye.  I am told that you can get Copper River salmon here for a very short time, so I’ll be on the lookout next season.  One thing that Maryland knows how to do though, is crab.  I had to have a lesson on how to eat it, but 4 of us managed to polish off this mound of crab this past weekend and I can’t wait to do it again!

The thing that makes it yummy is the Old Bay seasoning.  And Maryland is very proud of the Old Bay seasoning.  And, while you can buy this pretty much anywhere, it’s a flavor icon around here.  It’s used on chicken, pizza, pasta, corn on the cob, etc.   You can also buy Crabby Popcorn, Crabby Potato Chips and Bloody Mary’s are very often made with a sprinkle of Old Bay.

And speaking of Potato Chips, Pennsylvania redeems itself by making a to die for potato chip.  Utz.  I don’t even really like potato chips – not plain ones anyway.  This potato chip is made simply from fresh potatoes  and cooked in 100% pure Cottonseed Oil and salt — but not too much salt…just the perfect amount so you can actually taste the chip.  There are lots of flavors (including crab), but I just love the plain.

And then there are the things are hard to find here.  Tillamook cheese is one.  Like Sourdough bread, cheddar cheese isn’t a staple….if you order a ham and cheese omelet, you will most likely get American Cheese.  And if cheddar is available, it’s usually New York cheddar, which even in it’s “sharp” form is still fairly soft and not much bite.  I have been able to find Tillamook though — it is expensive, but worth it every once in a while.  On the other hand, goat cheese is plentiful and yummy here and satisfies my need to buy local.

One thing I don’t think I’ll be able to fully embrace is the wine.  When you have come from one the Pacific Northwest, it is hard not to be a wine snob.  Grapes here are very sweet and the result is…..sweet wine of course.  Not in a Gewurztraminer kind of way.  More of a grape juice kind of way.  Fruit wines are very popular here too.  Peach, Blueberry and Strawberry Wine are among the favorite fruit wines.  I am not a fan….although going to the winery with friends is still a great day, no matter what.

I have been terrible at blogging, I know.  Most of the time though, when I think about blogging, it’s only because I’ve just been in the most horrendous traffic ever and I want to rant.  So instead of constantly complaining about the traffic, I’ll just tell you once.  Traffic sucks.  It is truly awful.  There.

We’ve been here for almost three months now and I’m beginning to settle into a bit of a routine.  The other day, I was walking down the street in Georgetown to grab some lunch and passed one of my office’s regular Fed Ex guys.  He smiled and said hello and I realized that one of the things I miss the most is knowing people and being known.  But, I also know that these things take time.  In fact, the dry cleaner knows me, I have a regular manicurist and even run into the same people when I go there on Saturdays.  The waitress at Hamburger Hamlet recognizes us on Fridays when Lloyd and I go for a beer while Jake is at karate.  Even the guy at the beer store has begun to be friendly — and I get the sense he doesn’t dole out half smiles to just anyone. 

Today is an absolutely beautiful day in DC and traffic wasn’t as horrendous as usual (it never is on Fridays), so I took a little extra time walking the couple of blocks to my office.  DC is full of runners and they were out in full force this morning.  I slowed down to take in the beauty of the Potomac River and was nearly knocked down by once such runner.  Now, I get just as annoyed as the next person by those who stop dead in their tracks in the middle of the sidewalk to gawk.  This city is full of gawkers and there is much to gawk at, I know…..but please don’t just stand there!  Because I have this attitude, I always try to make sure that I’m not in somebody’s way — and this morning, I was well to the side of the walkway (and there was NOBODY else around) when I slowed my pace.   So, I guess this runner was just too focused on whatever what on his iPod to notice that anyone was there.  And he was running to fast to care.  That’s the thing that I have noticed about many runners here.  They don’t run leisurely or even like they are in a race.  They run like they are chasing somebody.  And when you think about it, that’s most likely what they are training to do.

Me? I prefer a leisurely stroll.  After all, who wants to run so fast they can’t take this in?

Excuse me while I make a sweeping generalization (and probably tick some people off)…..It’s just an observation.

Over and over again I hear about how the DC area boasts some of the smartest cities in America….perhaps even the world.

Every day, I notice how many people smoke here — and it’s a LOT of people.

Intelligent smokers?

Imagine you are sitting at lunch and your companion makes a (rather loud) reference to “Japs”. 

Imagine it’s a sushi restaurant.

You can pick up your jaw…that’s not what she was referring to at all.  On the West Coast, I would seriously be reconsidering my decision to be friends with this person.  On the East Coast, the term is more than likely referring to a Jewish American Princess.  And it was okay because my companion is herself Jewish (but from what I can tell, not a “JAP”).

I live in an area that has a very large Jewish population.  So since then, I have heard the term over and over – and it’s always in good humor.  But, each time, I cringe even though I now understand it.  Now, I’m not Jewish so I would never use the term anyway, but after living in the Northwest, where you would most likely be hearing it used in a derogatory way about people from Japan (or, sadly…any Asian descent) , I’m not sure I could even get the word out of my mouth.  I had trouble typing it.  My lunch companion laughed at me…..although she understood why it took me aback, and she agreed that she would never use the term in mixed company on the West Coast. 

It reminds me of one of the jokes we reference a lot in my house, though:

What’s a Jewish American Princess favorite wine?

“I wanna go to Miaaaaaami”

I’d be a good princess.  I always wanna go to Miami.

I had an eventful weekend exploring more of the area, but today is the first day of school and I can’t really think about anything else. I found a blog post from his first day of 2nd grade. It pretty much says it all, so there’s no need to rewrite:

I remember the first day of preschool like it was yesterday – Jake was not worried at all about being left for a couple of hours. He even told me that he wanted me to go. Kindergarten came and as I watched him get situatied in his classroom, the tears started to come and I thought that surely it would be easier next year. In first grade, I managed to hold back the tears until I got to my car. Surely, next year will not be so hard. Today, I put him on the bus after he insisted that I not take him to school because he is “too big”. Noting the disappointment on his face when he saw a new bus driver and hardly any kids on the bus, I wanted to follow the bus to school and give him another hug before he went in the building. I didn’t. Instead, I’ve been sitting here looking at pictures with a knot in my stomach all morning. I’ve even found a reason to email his teacher and it’s not even 11am yet. I realize now that each year will not get easier. In fact, as he edges his way toward adulthood, it is going to get harder. He’s an only child and I’ve only got one shot at this whole deal. Adding to the emotions is the fact that 8 years ago, it was uncertain that he would ever even go to school…so each milestone is that much more precious. I am greatful though…that I learned so early on to treasure every single moment. As I sit here in this quiet house, counting the time down until the bus comes to drop him off, I am happy for him. He loves school and was looking forward to being with his friends. I just wish it wasn’t so hard to let him grow up.

-September 4, 2007

When we moved here I was warned about three things (usually by people who had never lived here).

The Weather

Yes, it’s hot.  Yes, it’s humid.  But, I grew up spending summers in Phoenix.  I am not fazed by hot.  I know, I know…it’s a dry heat.  I’m here to tell you that when it’s 110, with or without humidiy, it’s just hot.  I wouldn’t hang out in an oven any longer than I would hang out in a sauna. 

Thunderstorms are something that we haven’t experienced in a long time — they remind me of the Arizona monsoon.  And, the rain….when it rains, it pours. I used an umbrella for the first time in 8 years last week.  People are often surprised when I tell them that because of Western Washington’s rainy reputation.  And while the reputation is deserved – it never rains very hard or for very long.  Carrying an umbrella was more of a nuisance than anything. 

I’m looking forward to seasons.  I can’t wait to see the fall colors and I’m actually looking foward to the possibility of snow. 

Traffic

Traffic sucks.  But, I’ve lived in LA, Phoenix and Seattle, all of which have terrible traffic.  I’ve been in a traffic jam at midnight in LA.  Seattle’s roads are always congested, although the drivers are generally courteous.  Phoenix drivers speed, run red lights and are generally rude.   DC is basically all of the above, except courteous.  Traffic lights and signals appear to be optional and if you are a pedestrian, forgetaboutit.  Cross-walks mean nothing.  But the absolute worst thing is the honking.  People here will honk at you for thinking about putting your brakes on.  The thing is, I have not met many rude people, so I think it’s a temporary condition that occurs only when driving — sort of the way airports can make people temporarity stupid.  Luckily, we don’t have bad commutes — Lloyd takes the train (which has a culture all it’s own) and I don’t have to get onto a freeway to get to work – which is not a coincidence.

Cost of Living

I was told to expect sticker shock here – on everything from housing to food to gas.  My initial reaction is that gas is cheaper and food is comparable.  Housing is expensive, but again, I lived in LA…nothing shocks me.  In fact, we are paying less for the apartment we are in now than we paid in LA 9 years ago – and it is much nicer.  Housing is cheaper the further out you go, but if you go back to point 2, I think it’s a trade-off. 

So, there are no real myths to be busted here, but it’s very easy to pick out the negatives of a place — especially when it’s not what you are used to or not what you prefer.  But, this is a wonderfully liveable city and I hope to be able to share the great parts with you as we discover them. 

P.S.  Contrary to my previous post, I no longer hate the state of Maryland.  Only the MVD.

I think that hell must be equivalent to spending a Saturday morning at the Motor Vehicle Dept.  Or two.

Given that August 24th is the last day to register to vote, we decided we needed to get our Maryland driver’s license on Saturday.  We dutifully looked up everything we needed and made the trek to the closest MVD with Saturday hours — which was a good 15 miles away.  We got there around 9:30 am and it was packed.  The first thing they do is put you in a cattle call line where a MVD employee makes sure that you have everything you need before you take a number.  I thought this made perfect sense because I imagine there are a lot of people who aren’t as smart as we are and didn’t bring all of the necessary documentation.  The line went pretty quickly and when it was our turn, we proudly turned over the following:

• Washington driver’s licence
• passports
• social security cards
• copy of our lease
• copy of cable installation contract
• firstborn

Oh, wait…they didn’t actually ask for the firstborn….

The woman says “only Lloyd’s name is on the cable installation contract.  Do you have anything else with Stephanie’s name and address on it?”  Uh….no.  Wait….we have our Washington registration which has my name and our Maryland address on it.  No — that would only work if I had the actual envelope that it came in.  Seriously?  Yes.  Seriously.

So, only Lloyd can get his license.  We decide to go home, get the paper we had received from the electric company showing that we were both responsible for the bill at our current address as of July 29th…which is the date we signed our lease. 

We went to another MVD, 15 miles in another direction, because I could not deal with going to the original one again.  Stood in line again.  Hand over all of our documentation.

This time, the lease is not valid because it doesn’t have our management company’s signature on it.  Oh, and the letter from the electric company will not suffice — only an actual bill.

So we left.  Spent half our day battling pure nonsense — and you wonder why people get frustrated with government.  I get that people try to cheat the system — and apparently Maryland has had a lot of trouble in that area so they have cracked down.  But honestly, it is WAY easier to forge a lease signature than it is to fabricate any of the other citizen documents that we had with us.   And, what frustrated me the most was that the rules had changed from one office to another.  Yes, we probably should have made sure we had a lease that had the management companies signature on the lease (I didn’t even realize it didn’t), but it had our signatures…and those would hold up in a court of law….as would the document saying we are responsible for the electric bill.  It could not have been more obvious that we lived where we claimed to live. 

The kicker came when the woman asked if we had our car registered in Maryland.  No….no we don’t.  Why?  Because you must have a MARYLAND DRIVER’S LICENSE TO REGISTER YOUR CAR. At the end of the day, we didn’t have the right documents and were apparently no smarter than anyone else in line…but, a simple smile, “welcome to Maryland” and perhaps a “I understand the requirements are confusing….how can I help make this easier for you?” would have gone a long way toward me not walking away hating the State of Maryland.  Because they sure as hell had no problem taking a boatload of taxes out of Lloyd’s paycheck the day before….

So, half my Saturday was wasted, I still have no license and I can’t vote in November.  And, if you know me, you know that I care WAY more about not being able to vote than I do about having a Maryland driver’s license.

The day was not lost.  We had a great time at the Montgomery County Fair, where we encountered the coolest “ride” ever.  Honestly, why don’t I ever think of this stuff?