Baltimore Diary

It's Like They're Looking Into My Soul! or something.

Dan Rydell: They say it's always calmest before the storm. That's not true. I'm a serious sailor. It isn't calm before the storm. Stuff happens.

—Sports Night, "Eli's Coming" (3/30/99)

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From another SN episode: "What's wrong with 'The storm clouds are gathering'?" Bonus points if you know who said it and in what context.

You Are Lightning

Beautiful yet dangerous People will stop and watch you when you appear Even though you're capable of random violence You are best known for: your power Your dominant state: performing

Shocking!

Sorry.

What Type of Weather Are You?

Credit Where Credit is Due

Latka Gravas: [reviews the damage to Cab 804] I Quit.

—Taxi, "Memories of Cab 804, Part II" (5/29/79)

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A couple of days ago I got an email from Wayne Sherman. He'd heard from someone up the street from my Morrell Park house who thought they saw "druggies" around the property. I figured they might have seen the people who are cleaning up the damage to the house and told him so, thanking him for the note.

Tonight, shortly after I got home, I got a call from the guy who's working on the house. He said that clearly someone's been in the house and that he hadn't been there for about a week. So GF and I got into the car and trekked down to see what was going on.

As soon as we got through the door we called 911. Sure enough, someone had gotten in and had themselves a little party or two. New damage to the walls, evidence of drug use (crack pipes AND a syringe, along with bloody Kleenex), graffiti spray-painted on a few walls, a broken basement window.

So before I go on with this tale, let me offer public thanks to my neighbors who kept their eyes open (I don't know if I can name them) and whose instincts turned out to be correct; and to Wayne, who knew how to get in touch with me and took that time. I usually give him a lot of crap in this space but he came through for me on this one.

Anyway: the police came, then a supervisor came. They figured out that whoever it was had gotten in through an unlocked second-floor window after cutting the screen, and they sent for the Crime Lab Unit. This was an official Breaking and Entering thing, now, and I've got a police report number and everything.

The Crime Lab Unit took a bunch of photos, dusted many surfaces for prints, took several samples (including a few specifically for DNA), and so on. It was very C.S.I., except for the part where she said, "Don't expect them to call you tonight with the results." My repair guy boarded the window involved, we re-secured the place and left.

So now the house is officially in a condition comparable to the day I bought it. Make me an offer; I've had enough.

Andrès and Me

Lt. Pug: Are there any questions? [EVERYONE raises their hand] Good! Since there are no questions...

—101 Dalmatians: The Series (1997)

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Last week, all of the IEP Team Associates were gathered in one place for staff development. First on the agenda was the Baltimore City CEO, Dr. Andrès Alonso, who was there to address the group and take questions.

Many of us viewed this as a rather welcome thing, as there have been constant rumors going about with regard to our jobs and how the system is going to run next year. Those who read Inside Ed at the Sun's website know that there have been a great number of sudden departures from the system and there's always speculation as to whether someone who recently retired jumped, or was pushed, off that cliff.

For the record, the answers are: "Jumped", "jumped", "pushed", "pushed", "saw the handwriting on the wall and jumped", and "pushed so hard that there are handprints in their ribs". (I'll leave it to you to figure out who's who.)

The downside to this little session is that he was being held to exactly an hour. Now, an hour would be plenty in most situations, but the fact is that Alonso loves to hear his own voice. I don't really have another explanation for this. In that hour's space, he answered exactly FIVE questions, spending at least ten minutes on each one. At then end of the hour there were at least a dozen hands in the air, and mine was one of them.

Alonso couldn't answer one of the questions put to him, but he managed to do ten minutes on it anyway, then deferred to Idalyn Hauss, who answered it for him in about nine seconds. With one exception, all of his responses were monologues. For the remaining question, an ITA posed a problem to him and he asked her for a possible solution. She started to respond by restating the problem and he asked her again for her solution. This went around a couple of times before she got around to coming up with some sort of answer. To be fair, he did say early on (not in these words) that he didn't want the Q&A to be simply undifferentiated complaining; that if a problem was cited he'd like to hear a solution. But the bottom line is that when he spends ten minutes answering a question he's already acknowledged he can't answer, you're talking about a person who talks a lot and says little.

Unfortunately, that's what we wound up with in the end. No rumors were put to rest, nobody felt a whole lot safer in their jobs (in fact, several people walked out thinking they were going to lose their jobs before much longer), and while he acknowledged how tough it was and how much responsibility was involved, I didn't get the feeling that we were going to get much more support from North Avenue. I can only hope I'm wrong.

That's One Broken Fast

Hyacinth: When people ask you what you have for breakfast, don't tell them cornflakes. You eat an exclusive european high fibre breakfast.
Richard Bucket: Who recommended it to you?
Hyacinth: The Dutch Royal Family.

—Keeping Up Appearances, "A Celebrity for the Barbeque" (9/19/93)

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This past Sunday GF and I, and our next-door neighbors, found ourselves miraculously without children. So we decided to go out for brunch.

Our original destination was an Irish pub down in Fell's Point by the name of Slainte (say SLAWN-tcha, dammit), on Thames Street. I'd been there before for breakfast-y food, and looked forward to returning. About midway down, however, the neighbors (in whose car we were riding) started talking about another place they hadn't been in awhile. So they made a mid-course correction and we found ourselves on North Patterson Park Road, in front of a place called Morning Edition.

I'll say this about Morning Edition: it gets some interesting mixed reviews on both Citysearch and in the City Paper, and they're all exactly right. Bottom line: the food is great but don't count on speedy service.

The restaurant is festooned with assorted rustic-like stuff either placed on shelves or just plain attached to the wall. Nothing--and I mean NOTHING--mounted to the wall is hung with any sense of "level" to it. Even the big round Coca Cola sign at the back has the top of the bottle tipped ever-so-slightly to the right. The floors are hardwood and starting to decay, and the furniture doesn't match. I rather like this last detail but I couldn't tell you why. GF would never have it in the house, though.

The male half of the neighbor couple tried to order his breakfast and found himself rebuked by the waitress:  "Don't you know it's Ladies First? See that, you tried to be fast, now you gonna be last."

Our meals were served with a bunch of fresh fruit to the sides and a Tootsie Pop nestled somewhere in the middle. GF ordered scrapple but I didn't make her move out of the house because, when in Rome etc. But I wasn't having any of that. She also had some French Toast. I did biscuits and gravy. My sausage gravy is better, methinks, but the scrambled eggs were very good. Our female neighbor ordered the seafood omelette, which looked nothing short of amazing. She assured us that this was, indeed, the case, but she wasn't sharing. 

Afterwards we hit a few assorted antique places, looking for something that might catch our eye, but while we struck out in that arena, we found a few places that seem to be worth re-visiting, so they're filed away in our heads for now.

Because It's My Job to Educate You

Crowd: We need a cure! We need a cure!
Dr. Hibbert: Why, the only cure is bed rest. Anything I give you would only be a placebo.
Blonde Woman: Where do we get these placebos?
Man: Maybe there's some in this truck!
[the mob pushes over a truck. Boxes labeled "DANGER KILLER BEES" break open, the bees go everywhere and everyone panics, one man puts a bee in his mouth]
Man: I'm cured! I mean, ouch!

—The Simpsons, "Marge in Chains" (5/6/93)

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Learn from me instead of the hard way: If you put a contact lens in your eye backward? That son of a bitch hurts.

That is all.

A Family Affair

Jack Gallo: I believe a toast is in order. To the bride, to the groom, and to God's warped sense of humor. First the duck-billed platypus, now this. I'm kidding, of course. Drink up.

—Just Shoot Me!, "The Odd Couple: Part 2" (5/25/99)

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As mentioned earlier, my sister's wedding reception took place at the Milleridge Inn, which is one of the better places to do such things. But more on that anon.

My father had arranged for a group rate at the Huntington Hilton, but unfortunately we couldn't get that rate because of when we'd called. GF tried to get through to a reservations supervisor, but when she was put on hold and left there, she hung up and didn't bother calling back. Hey, if they don't need our business, then c'est la vie. Instead we booked a room through Travelocity at the Bethpage Motel. This place had the advantage of being central to nearly every destination we had for the weekend, plus it was a hell of a lot cheaper than the Hilton. In fact, it was about $35 cheaper than the group rate for the Hilton. We got in around midnight and there was a little confusion because somehow they'd gotten under the impression that we were supposed to arrive on Wednesday night (and, in not showing up, had somehow cancelled), but they managed to accommodate us anyway, although we had to wait a few minutes for a room to be made ready.

For us, motel rooms are little more than crashpads. We're not spending a lot of time in them, so as long as they're clean I'm going to be happy. And this place was a little older but still rather nice.

Friday morning, I busted Daughter out of school and took her back to the hotel, where everyone got changed for the wedding. The wedding was at St. Joseph's Church in Babylon, only steps away from Argyle Lake Park. Argyle Lake, incidentally, is a VERY popular place for bridal parties to do their pictures, but my sister went elsewhere.

We got to the church at about 3:15 for a 3:30 service, and it turned out that the clergy were in there still doing the Stations of the Cross. They finished up and we moved almost directly into the ceremony. The wedding was not a full mass, which was okay by me. I hae to woder, however, if the only reason they didn't do a full mass was because they couldn't do one. No kidding: if you believe in transubstantiation, how can you eat the body of Christ on a Friday during Lent?

The bridesmaids, six of them, plus the maid of honor (my other sister), all wore strapless gowns in bright red (think Valentine's Heart red). The guys wore tuxes and, of course, looked like they'd never worn one before. Their part of the procession had a vaguely Mafia feel about it. But my sister looked terrific (natch) and she and her groom clearly had fun during the ceremony itself.

The Milleridge Inn is actually a collection of buildings. Some of them are shops and a couple of them are banquet halls. We were in the Milleridge Cottage, which features a hall and, at one end, a circular atrium that's glassed in. It's like a glass carriage house (if you go to the link, this room is at the bottom center of the photos). But the Carriage House, in fact, is a different structure on the grounds.

GF learned that when you go to these things on Long Island, the Cocktail Hour is where the real eating is at. This is a partial list of what was available (partial because I can't remember everything):

• Carving Station with London Broil and about four different sauces to put on top
• Penne a la vodka, which was just as good as I remember from the last time I was there
• Tortellini Alfredo
• Sliced tomatoes and fresh mozzarella balls (about 1" diameter)
• Chicken Teryaki
• Beef with peppers and onions
• Eggplant parmigiana, shaped like manicotti
• Clams/mussels/shrimp marinara
• Calamari
• Assorted fruits and crudite (hey--who let in all those empty vitamins?)
• About a half-dozen different cheeses

This was all at tables around the room. Then they had the roving waitstaff with:

• Mini egg rolls
• Pigs in blankets
• Mini quiches
• Bacon-wrapped scallops
• Pizza bagels
• Skewered chicken
• Fried Shrimp

All, of course, with the open bar. I had to explain a Vodka Collins to the bartender but otherwise everything went smoothly there.

The main event was pretty typical but still kind of fun. Wee One spent pretty much the whole evening on the dance floor. Daughter did not, since she was a little mopey because she was probably the only 16 year old there. It was a collection of three basic groups: Older folks (Dad's friends), young adults and small children. Having said that, I did make her get up and dance with me. And she didn't even die of embarrassment. Go figure!

Metapost: NY-Baltimore 500

Holly: [reading Lister's confidential report] David Lister, Technician, 3rd Class. Captain's remarks: Has requested sick leave due to diarrhoea on no less than 500 occasions. Left his previous job as a supermarket trolley attendant after ten years because he didn't want to get tied down to a career. Promotion prospects: zero.

—Red Dwarf, "Waiting for God" (3/7/88)

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I got in last night from New York and was pondering what kind of Wedding Goodness I was going to write about. So I logged into Typepad and saw some basic stats before me, including how many total comments there have been and how many posts I've written so far. That total was 499.

499! I'm about to write my 500th post! So here it is. And again I've got you reading a post about nothing. I'm like the Seinfeld of the internet. Or, perhaps not.

I've been doing this since November of 2004, so my only regret is that I didn't reach this mark sooner.

OK, wedding updates in a little while. 

Love is in the Air

Paul Buchman: Why is it I love you any more in the middle of February than on, say, August 21st? You know, to me, every day with you is Valentine's Day.
Jamie Buchman: So, in other words, you forgot to buy me a card.
Paul Buchman: That's what I'm saying.

—Mad About You, "Valentine's Day" (2/8/99)

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For the record, I didn't forget. GF got a lovely card and, of course, a bauble.

I'm posting from the Lovely Bethpage Motel, just steps away from Hempstead Turnpike on Long Island, home of Billy Joel, the Stray Cats, Blue Oyster Cult, assorted Baldwin Brothers and Yours Truly.

In about 14 hours, my little sister—

—all my siblings are "little", that's the way it goes when you're the oldest, But she's going to be 28 in a few weeks. Does that still count as "little"?—

—is going to change from a "Miss" to a "Mrs." and she's invited a bunch of us to come and watch it happen. So we're up in New York for the weekend.

Of course, while we're here we'll be stocking up on a few supplies: Bagels, baked goods, knishes and we'll be feasting on an actual pizza.  We're also planning on dining at Christiano's restaurant in Syosset village, which some claim is the one discussed in the Billy Joel song ("Bottle of red, bottle of white"—yeah, that's the one), although that would make Christiano's the third restaurant named to that distinction that I know of. Anyway, try the baked clams. They're amazing.

At any rate, the reception is at the Milleridge Inn, which is a cut above your usual wedding factory, so good things are expected. Stay tuned.

My Vote Isn't Wasted Because I Don't Get One

C.J. Cregg: Twenty-five years ago half of all 18 to 24 year olds voted. Today it's 25%. 18 to 24 year olds represent 33% of the population but only account for 7% of the voters. Think government isn't about you? How many of you have student loans to pay? How many have credit card debt? How many want clean air and clean water and civil liberties? How many want jobs? How many want kids? How many want their kids to go to good schools and walk on safe streets? Decisions are made by those who show up. You gotta rock the vote!

—The West Wing, "College Kids" (10/2/02)

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The only wasted votes, as they say, are the ones that aren't cast.

I'm disenfranchised for the day, since I'm neither Democrat nor Republican. But if you're affiliated with either party, it's important to get out there. I don't care if you vote for McClinton or Huckabama or my dog Keiko, for that matter. It doesn't matter to me. Just get out there and vote.

How often is Maryland considered to be "in play" in the primaries? Get out there and vote, dammit!

Why are you still here? Get your ass out and vote, already! Hurry, before it snows!

What It's About

Lt. Col. Frank Slade: You break my heart, son. All my life I've stood up to everyone and everything because it made me feel important. You do it...because you mean it. You've got integrity, Charlie. I don't know whether to shoot you or adopt ya.
Charlie Simms: Not much of a choice, is it, Sir?

—Scent of a Woman (1992)
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This week I either ran, or attended, no fewer than eight Special Education meetings. That's a lot for anyone to deal with, especially six of the ones I chaired, because I was filling in for someone and had to get familiar with the cases quickly, so I'd have some idea of what I was talking about. 

But one meeting in particular stood out for me this week, because it was so tough, and so complex. Without violating too much confidentiality, I think it's safe to say that this student was at the center of a ten-year custody battle between her parents that finally ended (we all hope) this past September, when she was returned to the parent who was supposed to have her. During the interim, there were all kinds of allegations of all kinds of abuse and moving around and missing lots of school and god-knows-whatever-else. It was one of the most depressing case folders I've had to review.

So I went to the school awhile back to do a formal observation on this girl, and considering her past and the attendant behavioral issues I'd heard about, she was actually pretty well-behaved in the classroom, especially given the events that took place in the room on that day. (Sorry about the vagueness, but that's how it has to go sometimes.) But when the team met this week to discuss her case and update her education plan, I went to the meeting, knowing that it was going to be a long, complicated meeting with a lot of material to review and a lot of details in this student's plan.

And I was right in that respect: the meeting went for about five hours, including a 25-minute break in the middle. And the more I heard about this kid, the  tougher things got. By the time we got through, I wanted to scoop up this little girl and take her home and give her Campbell's Chicken Noodle Soup and about two weeks' worth of hugs. But we slogged through everything and put together a document that, I hope, will give this youngster a fighting chance at a decent future.

And that's why I do what I do.