From the mundane to the sublime

One of the hallmarks of greatness at writing opera is the ability to take some mundane aspect of the plot, or somewhat banal text, and turn it into a beautiful aria.  It's one thing to create a great aria out of a poetic declaration of love, a fit of jealousy, sorrow, ambition or whatever.  But being able to create something sublime out of nothing requires genius.  To forestall the likely criticism of my thesis as so far described let me point out that, in the examples that follow, the number might in fact relate to a relatively significant plot element or character development.  But in such a case the text will deal with apparently ideas, or will use just plain ordinary words.

A few examples will suffice, although there are indeed plenty to go around.  And I mean no disrespect to any of the great opera composers not mentioned here.  Let's take as exhibit one, a piece of music so familiar that as kids, who knew nothing of classical music, let alone opera, we even bowdlerized its common name: Handel's Largo which we irreverently referred to as Handel's lager.  I've only recently come to really know this piece which more properly is referred to as Ombra mai fu from Serse, the story of Xerxes I of Persia, successor to Darius the Great.  Xerxes sings this aria in praise of the plane tree and the wonderful shade it provides:

Never was the shade
of any plant,
dearer and more lovely,
or more sweet.

There's a wonderful video and recording on YouTube with Cecilia Bartoli [recall that Handel wrote many of his lead male parts for castrato voices which are generally sung these days by women].

My next example is from Mozart and you might quibble with my interpretation of the text as mundane as it tells of lovely fresh breezes in a romantic setting.  Yet, the purpose of the letter which the Countess is dictating is to expose her husband's infidelity, it is not an outpouring of some noble emotion.  She's not even particularly upset -- she just wants to teach him a lesson.  But I don't think you can disagree with my assessment of the sublimity of the duettino from The Marriage of Figaro: Sull'aria che soave zeffiretto.  You may even recall one of my all-time favorite movies scenes, from the Shawshank Redemption, when Andy (Tim Robbins) broadcasts this over the prison P.A. system to the consternation of the warden and the wonder of Red (Morgan Freeman).

A little song on the breeze
What a gentle little Zephyr
This evening will sigh
Under the pines in the little grove.
And the rest he'll understand.

Easily the best sound quality that I found on YouTube is the recording (without video) of Jessye Norman and Mirella Freni. The balance, and playing, of the oboe and bassoon are just perfect.  Incidentally, there's a clip of Dame Kiri which should be the best but the sound quality isn't good.  In particular, the bassoon overpowers the oboe!  [I'll bet you never thought I'd say that!]

My final example is by Puccini from that intrinsically mundane seeming story about the canal people: Il tabarro.  Even the title refers to something seemingly (though not in fact) insignificant: a cloak.  But don't be fooled.  This is verismo opera at its absolute best.  What appears ordinary is loaded with passion, repression and violence.  This rather long aria and duet is known as E' ben altro il mio sogno (I have a different dream) and tells of very ordinary life in the suburbs of Paris (in particular Belleville).  Here are Teresa Stratas and Placido Domingo.  Giorgetta's aria starts at about 0:40 and the duet, some of the most powerful music Puccini ever wrote, starts at 4:12.  Here are the words of that section (my own translation):

But whoever leaves the suburbs wants to come back
And whoever returns cannot leave.
Over there Paris is crying out to us,
with a thousand happy voices,
about its eternal enchantment.

I hope I've convinced you that ordinariness or banality is no bar to glorious opera when at the hands of a real master.

Birthday fun

Exceat and the Seven Sisters, East Sussex, England -- by John Allen

While it's no fun having a zero in your birthday, we nevertheless made the most of it. Kim helped arrange for me to enjoy several of my favorite Bs: bassoon (playing Bach in Belmont), bridge, (draft) beer.  We made a weekend of it by overnighting in a super old inn in Marblehead: the Harbor Light Inn.  Added to that, the Patriots crushed the Bears on their home turf in their own weather (wind, snow).

I also wanted to share some photos with you from my cousin John who is a very talented photographer.  The one at the top, especially, is spectacular.  The one below was taken nearby during nature's icy grip early this month.

Icy Friston Church, East Sussex, England -- by John Allen

Central Florida

The "boil" pool at Blue Spring State Park

Way back when explorers were first getting to know Florida, they sent a party up the St. Johns river to find the source.  When they got to the area near present day Orange City, they followed the short tributary and found that it dead-ended in a blue pool that had occasional "boils" surfacing.  They had found the warm spring that feeds this little creek.  But the manatees had found it eons ago.  Manatees don't do well in cold water (below about 60F is deleterious to their health), so in winter they swim a couple of hundred miles up the river to this warm sanctuary.  The Blue Spring State Park provides a board walk along this stretch and we must have seen well over 100 individuals (which you can see if you look carefully in the photo below which Kathy took).

Manatees hanging out in the "hot tub"

As it happened, we also saw a Bald Eagle up close and personal when it swooped in just a few feet away (twelve perhaps) to harass a Cooper's Hawk, which later perched less than ten feet from us.  There was lots of other wildlife including alligators, anhingas, black vultures, white ibises, etc. etc.

We really had a very enjoyable morning there.  It felt really good to get out into the fresh air after all that bridge.  But it didn't stop Kim and I from going straight back in to the two-session open pairs at 1pm.  We did fairly well, although we definitely could easily have done better if tiredness hadn't intervened again.

The timeshare condo which we had this time at Cypress Point was really nice.  There was a very nice pool with large jacuzzi which was only a stone's throw from our door.  The apartment itself was palatial and included its own jacuzzi.  There were about five TVs altogether, none of which ever got switched on.  Furthermore, we also got lucky with the car from Alamo.  Not only are there no lines now (because they have an automated check-in kiosk) but they are also on-airport.  When we got to the compact row, we could choose any car, including one of several minivans.  That turned out to be a great boon as we several times had quite a few in the car with us.  And all for less than $20 per day :)  Alamo gets kudos from us!

Chef Remy

Our favorite place to eat was Tommy Bahamas' which we visited three times.  It was a 15-20 minute drive so wasn't the most convenient for the tournament but was well worth it.  They do a $33 prix-fixe menu which has smaller portions than the regular a la carte menu: perfect for people who have to go back to the tournament and think!  I had a great Dark and Stormy on the one evening we weren't going back to play bridge.  We also ate at Roy's which was actually even better than Tommy's and Bahama Breeze which I liked more than my fellows.

Our day at Epcot was very enjoyable.  No lines, lots of fun, and two pretty good meals (Chefs de France and the brand new La Hacienda de San Angel).  The former was enhanced by a visit from Chef Remy (Ratatouille) - see photo above.  The firework show at the end of the day was really terrific - I think they've improved it quite a bit in recent years.  At right is a picture of two happy Disney-goers at the start of the day.  Note the magic sunbeam which was a good sign.

Flying High

Not everything about air travel is increasingly irritating.  Yes, we have more complex scanners to go through, and we have to pay for baggage.  And of course, meals are a thing of the past.  Long gone are the days that you could run to your gate with 15 mins to flight time and get on the plane.

But with laptop computers and, now, wi-fi on the plane, I can sit here at 34,000' a little East of Washington D.C. on my way to Orlando and the fall North American Bridge Championships and write this blog :)

I've been chatting to Miranda on gtalk, I've checked my email and facebook.  It's all good.

This is my first time flying with Airtran and the experience has been pretty good.  Also my first time on a Boeing 717.  Must be one of the shortest take-off jets I've ever been on.  We'd barely made it to the half-way point when we were up and away.  I tried to take a photo with my cellphone of downtown Boston but yesterday I upgraded the iPhone version and it took about 10 seconds to update my library - then the view was gone.  Oh well.

We're really looking forward to our bridge experiences this week.  This is the first time that we've planned to enter all "National" events.  Usually we try one or maybe two National events and spend the rest of the time in the Regional events.

But our philosophy is that we can enjoy regional competition at, well, Regional tournaments.  The only opportunity to go up against the best in the world is at one of these NABC tournaments.  Why waste it?  As I'm fond of pointing out, Bridge is one of the few competitive endeavors where you can find yourself playing against current world champions without any qualifiers.  Some claim that poker is like that, but I'm not sure if that's really true.

Kim and I are playing with different partners in the first event, the Life Master Pairs.  In fact, Kim will be playing in the Women's LM Pairs.  Our partners are a married couple, Dave and Donna.  Kim and Donna have played lots before, but I've only had four sessions with Dave.  It's going to be interesting!  The Life Master Pairs (and Womens) are four-session events.  About half the field will make it to the third and fourth sessions.  So far, we've always managed to get through but who knows.  The competition is tough!  The good news is that if you get any points at all, they are "platinum" points.

Kim is busily planning a day at DisneyWorld which is scheduled for the third day of the Blue Ribbon Pairs.  But if we make it to the third day (wouldn't that be nice), we would have to go a different day, I guess.

So, we have a busy time ahead and all so far augurs well.  We'll keep you posted.  I probably will be posting a few bridge blogs so if you want to stray into that territory, go ahead :)

Watson and the Shark

Watson and the Shark by John Singleton Copley, Boston MFA

 There's a huge celebration in the Boston art world this week as the new wing of the Museum of Fine Arts is opened.  For the moment, members only (I gave up my membership about five years ago) but open to the public Nov 20th.

According to the MFA supplement in the Sunday Globe, one of the 10 must-see pieces in the new Art of the Americas wing is John Singleton Copley's Watson and the Shark.  I've seen it many times (and I've seen the smaller copy in the Detroit Art Museum).  I've also seen the original long ago, though only briefly and somewhat darkly.

This all prompted me to do a little more research because I recall very well when my school, Christ's Hospital, sold the "monstrosity" to some Americans in my second year (1963).  In our naivety, we thought they must be mad or have made a mistake.  It was about this time that London Bridge was being sold to other Americans to end up in the Arizona/California desert.  In any case I decided to check which version that was, where it is now, and how come we had it at C.H

The original Watson and the Shark (National Gallery of Art, Washington DC)

Well, it turns out that "our" copy was indeed the original, commissioned in 1778 by Brook Watson (who later became Lord Mayor of London, and therefore the nominal patron of our school).  Watson was a friend of Copley's when the latter went to live in London and wanted to commemorate the incident when he lost his leg at age 14 to a shark in Havana harbor.  I'm not sure why he wanted to commemorate the event!  But in any case, he bequeathed the painting to my school in his will of 1803.

Our painting was hung in a side gallery of our dining hall, if I recall correctly.  It was at the other end of hall, and so I never normally went over there.  When we first heard that Americans wanted to buy a painting, we (or at least I) naturally first thought of the Verrio, a huge painting which takes up most of the long dimension of the dining hall.  There's a story to this one too.  Antonio Verrio began the portrait of Charles II and his court in 1684.  Charles II was the founder of the Royal Mathematical School which in some way I've never quite understood became part of Christ's Hospital (which had been founded over 100 years earlier).  However, before Verrio could finish it (in 1690), Charles was dead and his son James II was king.  The painting therefore has the body of one king and the head of another.  This painting is notoriously difficult to photograph (it is about 60 feet long) but the photo below gives you an idea (thanks to Julian Taylor Leigh-Hunt).

You can probably get a more succinct and objective view of the present and ancient history of Christ's Hospital on its Wikipedia page.

Fall (continued)

 

This (top) was the view outside my office building earlier this week. More fall color photos below.  Tomorrow will be Hallowe'en [interestingly, spell checker doesn't like that spelling even though it is technically correct] and winter isn't far off.  The leaves have been quite spectacular, although I don't think this is the best year ever.  Right now the oaks (my favorites) are pretty much at peak (below).

I'm sitting here with the dogs watching, of all things, Comedy Central's Rally to Restore Sanity and/or Fear.  It's fairly entertaining and, courtesy of Stephen Colbear, appropriately parodies the "right" as the merchants of fear.  It's beautiful weather in D.C. for this rather zany event.  Great to see Yusuf (a.k.a Cat Stevens) singing the Peace Train.

Pixie is now an apparently happy, comfortable monocular dog. She seems to be completely back to normal.  She's still a little rascal when it comes to protecting us from each other, but we're working on it.

The garden has been decommissioned for the winter, well almost.  There are still a few carrots to come and some winter crops.  But the tomatoes, all of those green ones, are gone as are the pumpkins and most everything.  The owls have been busy cooking lately.  A few nights ago, there were three quite close having a very animated conversation: who cooks for you, who cooks for you too?  And the Carolina wren is busy getting ready for the winter.

I recently finished reading Richard Dawkins' The Devil's Chaplain (a literary image originally created by Darwin).  It's quite unlike his other books, being a series of otherwise unconnected, personal essays.  Particularly good examples being eulogies for Douglas Adams and W.D. Hamilton.  There are also a few essays on the late great science essay writer, Stephen Jay Gould.  So I've gone back to re-reading some of the Gould essays.  They're great.  One of his great loves was baseball.  As he points out, Joe DiMaggio was running his 56-game streak while Stephen was undergoing gestation.  Incidentally, that streak is beyond all reasonable statistical expectations and is likely to remain intact for ever as it is 11 games beyond the next best effort.


Meanwhile, our dogwood and Japanese maples are a riot of color, see photos left and right.

Fall is here

The leaves have finally started to change color in earnest.  I had to smile ruefully when I spotted a "leaf peeper" bus a week or so ago.  They definitely picked the wrong week.  The weather over the last month has been a study in contrasts.  Cool with heavy rain, but then the sun comes out and the temperature rises quite high (up to the 80s sometimes).  Incy-wincy spider weather in fact.  Today we experienced the lowest temperature for a while (43) while back on 9/25 the high was 88.  In the photo (above) of the Greenough pond, you can see the mist rising from the water as the day began to warm up. And if you look very carefully, you may see a Great Blue Heron perched on top of a wood-duck nestbox (the left and further one of the two).

I'm so glad they got those miners out in Chile (actually they're still working on it)!  69 days, 690 metres underground!  Amazing.

The day I began this blog, a week or so ago, I noticed the phoebes were back.  I'm not sure where they'd been the previous couple of months: perhaps I just hadn't noticed them.  In any event, they'll be fattening up for the migration South.  I noticed something particular about their endearing habit of wagging their tail.  It seems to coincide always with a rotation of the head.  In this light it appears to be a reflex reaction.  More research is going to be required, as Sibley has nothing to say on the physiology or motives of the behavior.

Meanwhile, the tomatoes have stopped ripening.  Guess it's going to be fried green tomatoes for us!  Why is it that however smart we think we are, we always have to make mistakes before we can learn.  In this case, I neglected the tomato plants and, after pinching off the suckers early, I've not continued that through the summer.  Result: lots of branches, lots of (green) tomatoes.  Not much fruit available for good eating for about four weeks or so now.

Hands up those of us who are bothered, nay infuriated, by the modern trend of bringing smelly food into confined spaces such as trains, planes, bridge clubs, offices, theatres, etc.  It's part of the general reversion to selfishness that is all too prevalent among the younger set, rant, rant...  I heard a story from my mother the other day that made me realize why we have to suffer this now.  It's because of "fast food" outlets.  Back in the day when you had to go on a long journey and might not have food available (or it might be too expensive), you took sandwiches.  By definition, sandwiches are cold.  Yes, I know the American food industry has revised the meaning of the term to include hamburgers and the like, but in the original form, named after the Earl of Sandwich, it was cold meat positioned between two slices of bread.  This is what legions of commuters have taken to work for maybe a hundred years.

Anyway, my mother's story made me suddenly realize that it's the temperature of the food that is the essential issue.  As we know, the speed of chemical reactions increases with temperature according to the Arrhenius equation and I'm sure that this same equation relates to the energy levels (and velocity) of the molecules which cause food aromas (note the use of the word aroma: the Italians very sensibly have two words for smell, one for good: aroma, one for bad: odore).  But note also that soon after it's introduced, an aroma can become an odor.  Life is cool so as long as people bring cold food into confined spaces, or if we are all eating the same thing at the same time (as on a plane, at least in days gone by when they served food on planes) or, to some extent, in a restaurant where even if we aren't eating the same thing, at least we're eating or about to eat.  These are acceptable situations.

But when we are not eating (maybe we are actually hungry) and someone else brings hot food near us, then it's very anti-social. My pet peeve is microwave popcorn.  Ycch!   End of rant.

We went with Miranda and one of Kim's friends to see David Sedaris on tour in Worcester.  We had a great dinner beforehand but left our getaway a little late and arrived at the theater exactly at show time.  It took me 20 minutes to park and join my fellows inside.  He was funny. But not quite as funny as I was expecting. He didn't read for very long.  I thought he was about to take a break when he said "Thanks for coming."  Apparently he now lives near my old stomping ground in West Sussex (UK).  Although I do enjoy his stories, his earthy/bathroom style can be a little embarrassing to sensitive souls and there's no doubt that it is not the kind of humor appreciated by either my mother or my mother-in-law.  Let them be warned: the following may not be suitable reading - now would be a very good time to quit.

I suspect he may have been reading Chaucer lately, in particular the Summoner's tale in which the summoner pokes fun at the Friar.  A Friar dies and ends up in hell whereupon the devil claims to have "in his arse" no fewer than twenty thousand friars that apparently can come and go at will.  In Sedaris' new story, the Friar is a Great Horned Owl, the Devil is a Hippopotamus at the zoo (Sedaris uses the term rectum) and the friars are leeches. Now, is that plagiarism according to the modern obsession?  Or it just one writer showing his respect for another?

My new mission

The view shown here is the view from my new office.  Well, almost.  My office actually looks through another office to this view.  But it's very fine and is going to be especially lovely once the leaves turn (see photo below which is from the other side of the reservoir looking back this way, taken 10 years ago). This is the Cambridge Reservoir in Waltham which was created in 1910 by damming Hobbs' Brook.  I work in a beautiful office park with plenty of parking, some of it covered and generally a great place to work.  The only snag is that there is literally only one road into the complex in which, as a complete guess, 20,000 to 50,000 people work.  There have been road works on the highway interchange and access road for at least two years.  There are huge traffic jams in the mornings.  Fortunately, there is another way out (but not in).

In any case, I'm already having a lot of fun and there is a huge amount of important work to be done.  What a marvelous opportunity to do something that will improve people's lives!  I'd love to talk more about what I'm working on beyond "health care", but I really can't in such a public forum.

There's one other minor snag at the office which is that next-door-neighbors' phone conversations can be loud.  I combat this distraction with music from my iPod or iPhone (and headphones).  One of the pieces I've been listening to lately can justly claim to be one of the greatest of bassoon pieces of all: Il Trittico Botticelliano by Ottorino Respighi.  I just missed playing it with SPM 21 years ago.  Maybe we could do it again.  It also happens to be a brilliant composition, even by the standards of the exceptionally gifted (but typically under-appreciated) Respighi.  Incidentally, one of my lifetime ambitions (a bucket-list item perhaps) is to publish a book (most likely electronic) which talks about all the wonderful bassoon music that people so easily miss.

Meanwhile, I managed to pass the ACBL (bridge) director's exam so I am now a qualified director.  Of course I no longer have any time to direct games, but it could be done in theory!  I'm already suffering a little from bridge withdrawal (but only a little).

I have another blog in draft mode which I'm planning on getting ready soon, but I thought I'd better at least send something out or you would all give up on me.

Two early fall hikes

Concord River looking South

Concord River looking North

Last weekend, we took advantage of the very dry summer to walk the "dry season" river trail from the Greenough Land here in Carlisle along the Concord River as far as the National Wildlife Refuge (which doesn't allow dogs).  As expected it was incredibly easy and very satisfying.  The river along this stretch is completely unspoiled.  Apart from probably a more substantial bridge on the Nashua Road, the vista no doubt looks today much as it did when Henry David Thoreau and his brother John navigated it in 1839 as described in his A Week on the Concord and Merrimack Rivers.  I now have that book as an "ebook" on my iPhone and am planning on finding out what Thoreau was thinking as they paddled from one Concord to another.

From Mt. Pisgah looking East

From Mt. Pisgah looking towards the reservoir

Yesterday we drove to Southwestern New Hampshire for a more substantial hike: to one of our favorite places – Pisgah State Park.  See previous blogs Darwin and Newts and  Basking in an Indian Summer.  We hiked from the Reservoir Road access point to the top of Mt. Pisgah.  Well, almost to the top.  I didn't have my GPS loaded with topo maps and there were a lot of trees and not fantastically good visibility.  We actually missed the summit by about 1000' horizontally and 60' vertically.  Oops!  We did have a lovely view (see left and below) from where we were sitting eating our lunch though, just East of what we thought was the summit.  We could see Mt. Monadnock quite clearly (although in the photograph, it is obscured by a branch of a nearby tree, on the extreme left).  
The wonderful thing about this view is that, except for a couple of distant antennas and, I suppose, the reservoir (see photo on right), there is nothing in the entire view that is man-made.

Normally when we hike in this park we are entirely alone, apart from our dogs that is.  But on this particular day, there was a cross-country race through the park.  The distances were significant (23k and 45k) but most of the runners seemed to be at least 40 and many were 50+ I'd say.

If you'd like to see our actual track and more detail, go to Early Fall Hike to Mt. Pisgah.

Pixie, wait!

OK, but do try to keep up.

Pixie likes to hike at the head of the column, going forward like a scout.  Sometimes she wanders off on her own and can't be found.  This happened yesterday and delayed us for about half an hour while we blew the whistle and called "Pixie....".  Fortunately, we got her back, though through no effort of hers.  Here she is on the Concord River walk.  In the first picture (left) she hears "Pixie, wait".  In the second, she turns to wait for us to catch up.  Most of the time she's well-behaved like that.  Hopefully, she just needs a bit more training.

Drug testing and the chain of custody

Warning: this blog alludes to a certain bodily function.  Sensitive readers should skip it.

I had a new experience today.  I thought I'd share my thoughts with you.  I dare say that David Sedaris (whom we shall be seeing live in a month or so) could make this experience incredibly humorous – meanwhile, I'll simply try to keep your interest to the end.

I reported to the testing facility in Lowell this morning for the drug test required by my about-to-be new employer, just a couple of blocks along Route 38 from I-495.  After waiting less than five minutes, I identified myself with my driver's license, and was asked to empty my pockets into a lock box (it was never locked as far as I can tell).  The lab technician then handed me a sample container, pointed to the line that I was required to fill to and shown the bathroom.   "I have to turn the water off while you're in there, so you won't be able to wash your hands," she said.  "Oh, and don't flush or we'll have to start all over again."  That sounded ominous.  I knew there was no way I would be able to produce two samples.

In I went, blessing the accident of nature that gave me a Y chromosome and prepared to perform my duty.  Do other people find this as tricky as I do?  I don't usually have any problems but somehow when you're required to produce a certain amount into a container, the brain goes into a kind of mini-rebellion.  It's similar to the experience we men sometimes suffer when flow is just about to begin and another guy comes and stands at the next urinal.  The entire waterworks can so easily be shut off at that instant.  "Let your mind go blank," I told myself.  It did the trick.

So, I went out and handed her the container and she flipped a switch and said "OK, you can go back in, wash your hands and flush."  But not in that order, I thought to myself.  She didn't go in for an inspection, so if I had put something in the loo, she wouldn't have known anything about it.  But what kind of thing might I drop in?  If I'd smuggled in a phial of pure stuff, wouldn't I just put it back in my pocket on the way out?  She never actually checked my pockets before or after.

I closed the bathroom door when I went back in (I'm not sure why) and I cleaned up.  I went back out and she started on the paperwork.  A sample container which certainly looked like mine (it was filled to the exact same level) was sitting on the counter.  I signed to the effect that she was now sealing it up in my presence (the "chain of custody"), took my copy and bade her adieu.  It was all over remarkably quickly.

But can I be sure that the container that is now about to be processed in my name is really mine?  Could she have substituted another while I was washing my hands and flushing?  I'm not sure just what incentive she might have to make the substitution but, still, it does seem to be a weak point in the process.  I suppose they think that I'm more likely to want to do the old switcheroo than the lab technician.

Meanwhile, they're also doing a "background check".  Who knows what might turn up there!  So, I decided to pay for my own background check.  I'm sure that my employer's agent will be much more thorough but still I was curious to see what information about yours truly can be bought for a mere $35.  Perhaps I should hire Kim's cousin Julia to do a more thorough preemptive check.  I did discover some interesting stuff.  Did you know for instance, that I had lived in Pasadena, CA?  Neither did I.  But somebody who until recently had the same name as me did live there and it shows up in my record.
I'm not on any FBI (or equivalent) lists.  But there are a couple of bankruptcies associated with my first and last name.  Fortunately, the middle part of the name is different and they're in states that I've never lived in.  I do hope that whoever evaluates the check on behalf of my new employer isn't going to be fazed by any of this.

So, when you see in this blog that I am actually starting my job, you will know that I have passed these two tests.  I'm looking forward to it very much!

Summer is drawing to a close

Still, we're having day after day of beautiful weather.  But the evenings and, especially, the mornings have a definite chill these last few days.

We're proposing to do the "river trail" tomorrow which is impassable at all times except when the ground is very very dry.  Like now.

We had a preview of what it will be like this morning when we joined the Search for Gracie in the woods of North Billerica.  Gracie is a Sheltie (Shetland Sheepdog) who's been missing since May when she was chased out of her own yard by a coyote.  Her "mom" has worked incredibly hard to try to find her and to begin with there were many sightings (although one wonders how reliable some of these were).  But nobody has seen her now for about a month.  Today, ten of us met at the McDonalds in North Billerica to comb through the woods on the East side of the Concord River between the Boston Road bridge and the River St. bridge.  See below for our track.  We covered about 2 miles in as many hours.  We weren't in a hurry: we were looking for possible dens and/or paw prints.  We didn't see anything and neither did any of our fellow searchers.  But it was certainly an interesting way to spend a morning!  We are very sad for Gracie and her family -- we just wish that they could get her back.



View Search for Gracie in a larger map

Meanwhile, football season is upon us!  The Patriots will host the Cincinnati Bengals tomorrow, one of last season's surprise contenders.  Tom Brady has a new contract worth $18 million annually.  You'd think that with all that money he'd be able to buy himself a really fancy car.  But no.  Some charity he works with bought him a really fancy car so he doesn't need to.  This all came out earlier this week when he was involved in a crash in Boston (not his fault).

And, today being the anniversary of 9/11, we've been threatened all week with a completely outrageous act of racial intolerance down in Florida.  Let's hope that cool heads prevail.

Separating the sheep from the goats

Earlier this week, I went to the last of the summer sings of the Paul Madore Chorale at the Old Town Hall in Salem, MA.  It was another sultry, not to say stifling, evening.  The program this time was the Verdi Requiem, one of the truly great pieces of music.  There was an accompanist, a small, volunteer orchestra, a somewhat under-staffed chorus and four absolutely fantastic soloists.  To say that running the whole piece without rehearsal and with such a motley crew (no oboes, or double basses and the entire brass section consisting of one paltry trumpet) was ambitious would be a serious understatement.  But because the soloists can pretty much carry the entire piece on their backs, it actually turned out to be a magnificent musical experience.

Surprisingly, there were three of us bassoons (only one part missing, therefore).  I was lucky to get to play the first part, and therefore to enjoy all the wonderful solo passages, particularly in the Quid sum miser and Ingemisco sections of the Sequentia (Dies Irae).  Verdi really created a wonderful score for the bassoon section.  I was reminded of the first time I played the piece (as 4th bassoon) in Peterborough Cathedral (UK) in 1973 (or 74).  Now, that was a fantastic experience: the off-stage trumpets echoing around the nooks and crannies of the magnificent edifice during the Tuba mirum section.  Truly unforgettable.

So, I was curious to take a closer look at the words of the requiem mass.  I've always been surprised at just how different the words can be in the different settings (and how they are frequently grouped together).  I looked up the Missale Romanum on the web and it certainly is confusing.  This is a good source of the text.

I hadn't really noticed before how the Sequentia is divided into 19 stanzas of rhyming triplets. To me there is something quite magical about these words, and I'm not even Catholic.  For example:

Tuba mirum spargens sonum Per sepulcra regionum, Coget omnes ante thronum.
Wondrous sound the trumpet flingeth, Through earth's sepulchres it ringeth, All before the throne it bringeth.

One of my favorite triplets is:

Inter oves locum praesta, Et ab haedis me sequestra, Statuens in parte dextra.
With Thy favored sheep, oh, place me; Nor among the goats abase me, But to Thy right hand upraise me.

But, I wonder, what is it about sheep that is so wonderful? And what's wrong with goats? Haedis (sometimes spelled hoedis), by the way is perhaps better translated as kids. Perhaps there's an element of age discrimination, too.  I will develop that theme in my latest Letter from Europa.

A little fall of rain

What a summer we've had!  Day after day of beautiful sunny days.  We've hardly seen a mosquito in Carlisle for about a month now (with the exception of the one that gets delivered on Fridays).  Incredible.

The photo above is from a point close to the summit of Mt. Albany (1930') looking towards the Caribou-Speckled wilderness. We hiked it last week while staying at the pet-friendly Paws Inn (see left) in Bethel at the end of our Maine vacation.  Since the hike wasn't too strenuous we added another two mile out-and-back to a beautiful pond called Round Pond (see below, right) near the Crocker Pond campground.  Pixie (aka Madison) was an incredibly active hiker on this day: always leading the way, sometimes taking a detour but never tiring or lagging behind.  What a difference we've made to that dog!

While we were up there, we also visited with Kim's cousin Kristin.  That was really nice to get to know them all better.  What a wonderful place Bethel is!  The air really is different up there.

Last night, we had a little fall of rain ("... can hardly hurt me now", as Eponine sings) and it prompted me to check how many rainless days we've had recently.  We were rain-free between July 23rd and Aug 5th.  Then the 7-9th, then the 12-15th.  And the rain we've had has generally been in drops: the total rainfall for August so far has been 0.15" and for July was 2.37", of which about 2/3 fell on just three days (10, 11 and 23).

And temperatures have been high too.  100F was the max for July, 93F so far in August.  But our weather has been nothing compared to that of Europe and, especially, Russia.  Indeed, the period January 2010 through July 2010 is officially the warmest such period ever, when global temperatures are considered.  July itself was either the warmest July ever, or the fifth warmest, according to who you believe.  Here in the U.S., July was only the 17th warmest (of 116 previous Julys).  February, March, April, May and June have all been the warmest, globally, on record.

But you mustn't jump to any conclusions about global warming.  These are just anomalies whose significance has been overblown by the liberal scientists we put in charge of our meteorological agencies.  Right, and the tooth fairy really exists.

Trouble is of course the ground is parched.  Wildlife must be having a hard time of it.  But our tomatoes are doing extremely well (left).  Indeed, we are very much enjoying having BLTs, open-faced sandwiches (kind of like a Caprese), and anything else tomato based (yes, we also have Basil).

Oh what a beautiful morning!

The weather has really changed this morning.  There's a refreshing breeze, the humidity is reasonably low and the temperature is about 74F.  Lovely!

Ella is off to Maine on the Downeaster, Kim is in New Orleans, Miranda is at work, the dogs are happy/quiet and I have some time to myself.  I've been a little too busy for blog posts lately.  All five of my blogs are experiencing the dog days of journalism, although I did just post something for Letters to Europa.

Gastronomically, we've been having a wonderful time.  Fresh vegetables from the CSA, a new pot of Ella's marmalade, a visit to Vincenzo's, brunch at Tryst in Beverly before going to see Gypsy at the North Shore Music Theatre.  Five of us, including Will and Nilo, went to brunch and the show.  We all enjoyed it, the production was actually very good (I particularly liked the theatre-in-the-round format), including a truly excellent orchestra with three fantastic trumpeters.

I have to admit a blind spot of total ignorance in respect of Gypsy, its history, background and its composer (Jule Styne).  To be perfectly honest, I had never even heard of Gypsy, despite there being a Broadway revival as recently as 2008.  Turns out that I did know a few of the musical numbers (Everything's coming up roses, for instance).  At the intermission, after a somewhat tedious and over-long first act, I wasn't totally surprised that Gypsy hadn't been much of a success on Broadway.  How wrong I was.  The second act is totally different and much more entertaining and interesting as we now realize that it's Louise, the one with no talent, who is going to go on to stardom as Gypsy Rose Lee.  And now, having researched it a little, I had misjudged it entirely: Gypsy has been a great Broadway (and West End) success over the years, having won boatloads of awards.

And I'm interested to learn more about Gypsy Rose Lee herself, someone I had only the vaguest notion of previously.  The name was something of an accident as she had always been known as Louise before that first fateful Burlesque appearance and she was certainly no gypsy.  Next year will be her centenary.  And, as the nation remembers the McCarthy era (which ended more or less 50 years ago, see Truth, justice and the law), her name comes up as one of the celebrities who successfully challenged the reds-under-the-bed brigade.

Vermont

We had a wonderful weekend in Southern Vermont, mixing a little bridge and a little hiking with just plain taking it easy.  This picture is from the top of Shrewsbury Peak (3710'), number 21 on the Vermont list, which we hiked on Friday morning (we were on the trail at 7:30am to beat the heat).  We're looking East towards Bald Mountain (3315') and thence to Ascutney (3143'), I think.  Pixie needed a ride up the steep part of the trail but otherwise was fine.

We rented a small cottage (right) down a long grassy driveway off a dirt road in a quiet part of the state (West Windsor, to be precise).  What a lovely spot!  There were barred owls nearby (heard only), yellowthroats, wood thrushes, robins and various other unidentified birds.  Out the back are trails heading up and around Hurricane Hill.  We came across an even more remote and smaller cabin.

On our way home from our first bridge session (in Rutland), we had just passed a Moose Crossing sign on a quiet road when lo and behold there was the moose (a huge ole bull, the size of a horse) in the act of crossing!  A firm application of the brakes ensured that we didn't collide.  Venison might be tasty but it would be no good if we didn't live to eat it!  On our return we heard about a fatal car/moose collision on I-95 in Maine.  Nasty.

We had some great meals, especially at a small local eatery in the middle of nowhere called Keepers.  They were serving an excellent beer called Switchback.  The dogs seemed to enjoy it all too (except the restaurant visits and bridge sessions when they were cooped up alone).  On our last day, we hiked a small portion of the Long Trail (and Appalachian Trail) down to the lovely Big Branch (see left).  Pixie seemed to really enjoy this hike.  Perhaps she's finally become a hiking dog!

Unfortunately, we were rubbish at bridge.  It's hard to switch from rustic getaway to bridge and back smoothly.  But it didn't matter one jot.  It was a wonderful place to visit.  Definitely a place we'd like to revisit.

Meanwhile, I was very happy that Spain won the World Cup.  Their skill level was considerably higher than that of any other team and while their forwards didn't always capitalize on their chances, the midfielders passed them up a seemingly endless supply of balls.  I was disappointed to see that Holland, inevitably, had to resort to a physical game and several fouls were not called.  Fortunately for those of us supporting Spain, the fairly obvious foul on Robben's scoring opportunity wasn't called either, otherwise the game would have ended in regulation time with a win for the Dutch.  All in all, a very enjoyable and well run competition.  Brazil is up next in 2014.  Guess who's going to be the favorite?

Dog days

We're now in the dog days of summer.  The weather is sultry and oppressive.  It's just plain hot.  Sirius (the "dog" star) is in conjunction with the Sun (and therefore invisible) but gives rise to the name.  Our dogs certainly find it too hot to go out.  Yesterday, the Bedford temperature was 100F with high humidity and no wind.  Boston recorded its highest temperature in several years.

I took the opportunity of driving down to Dedham for a "summer sing" with the Masterworks Chorale: Carl Orff's Carmina Burana.  I've performed it (in the orchestra) three times but had never before sung any of it.  It's tricky stuff!  The melodies and harmonies are reasonably easy but the words, rhythms and timing are definitely a challenge.  Consider for example two verses from the drinking song [bibit = (he/she) drinks]  (all sung with essentially no breaks):

Primo pro nummata vini;
ex hac bibunt libertini;
semel bibunt pro captivis,
post haec bibunt ter pro vivis,
quater pro Christianis cunctis,
quinquies pro fidelibus defunctis,
sexies pro sororibus vanis,
septies pro militibus silvanis.
octies pro fratribus perversis,
nonies pro monachis dispersis,
decies pro navigantibus,
undecies pro discordantibus,
duodecies pro paenitentibus,
tredecies pro iter agentibus.

Tam pro papa quam pro rege
bibunt omnes sine lege.
Bibit hera, bibit herus,
bibit miles, bibit clerus,
bibit ille, bibit illa,
bibit servus cum ancilla,
bibit velox, bibit piger,
bibit albus, bibit niger,
bibit constans, bibit vagus,
bibit rudis, bibit magus,
Bibit pauper et aegrotus,
bibit exul et ignotus,
bibit puer, bibit canus,
bibit praesul et decanus,
bibit soror, bibit frater,
bibit anus, bibit mater,
bibit ista, bibit ille,
bibunt centum, bibunt mille.

Getting to know the music better made me realize that Orff was essentially a minimalist, in the way that Philip Glass and John Adams are. The music is fundamentally very simple (not in the sense of ease of performance) with many many sections which repeat almost ad infinitum.  I think this must be a large part of its universal appeal.  I don't know any classical music fan who doesn't love it.  And even non-classical-music folks all know and love O Fortuna which probably holds the record for uses in movies, commercials, etc.  Of course the universal and ageless subject matter, including fortune and fate, the seasons (esp. springtime), drinking, eating, gambling and sex, doesn't hurt even if there are at least three quite distinct languages represented in the text (none of which are English).  But there is a reference to the English Queen (supposedly a reference to the beautiful Eleanor of Aquitaine who established in Poitiers a cours d'amour, the title of the last part of Carmina Burana).

And while we're on the subject of classical music, today is the sesquicentennial of Gustav Mahler.  Happy Birthday, Gustav!  He even made it to the front page feature article of the English-speaking Wikipedia (but not the German or Czech pages).

Speed kills

No, this doesn't have anything to do with road accidents.  What I'm referring to is speed in football (soccer in the US).  This World Cup has demonstrably answered the old question: speed or experience?  No game exemplified the dichotomy as clearly as that between perennial rivals Germany and England.  England went with a very experienced team, sidelining the one player (IMO) on the team with any turn of speed, Aaron Lennon.  Germany went with youth and speed, with one notable exception.  The result was depressingly predictable.  Germany's one exception, 32-year-old Miroslav Klose, was nevertheless the fast man on Germany's goal kick which went deep into England territory and where the English defenders were simply outrun.  Klose continues to dominate defenders through his speed as he did against Argentina.

Meanwhile, our weather (sunny and 89F as I write this on July 4th) has been lovely lately.  Just like the good old days.  It's been relatively dry and hot.  The mosquitoes appear to be a thing of the past.  On the debit side, the grass everywhere is looking parched.

We really enjoyed watching Invictus. What a great story: the role of the 1995 Rugby World Cup in the crucial early months of a new (or reborn) nation.  It reminded me what a great game Rugby is.

For our annual fireworks show, we selected Lincoln this year.  For some reason, the fireworks displays of the various towns were on any of three different evenings, the 2nd (e.g. Bedford), the 3rd (e.g. Harvard, where we went last year), and the 4th (e.g. Lincoln and of course Boston).  It's interesting to compare the experiences of these two years, perhaps with a mark for the various aspects (all very subjective of course):

Feature	Weight	Harvard (2009)	Lincoln (2010)
Fireworks Length	3	9 (a good length)	9 (a bit too long)
Fireworks Quality	4	8 (very good)	9 (excellent)
Viewing Distance	2	8 (good)	10 (maybe a bit too close)
Scenery/Atmosphere	4	10 (fantastic)	6 (zilch)
Space	3	10 (spacious)	5 (sardines)
Wait to get in	1	10 (what wait?)	7 (long delay)
Wait to get out	2	7 (wet grass: delays)	7 (so many cars!)
Facilities	1	7 (OK)	6 (what facilities?)
National Anthem	1	7 (don't recall)	9 (lovely)
Weather	3	8 (short shower)	10 (perfect)
Bugs	2	8 (mucho deet)	10 (what bugs?)
Finding the way back to car	1	9 (no worries)	6 (night orienteering)
Vehicular transportation	1	7 (two cars)	10 (brand new Murano)
Overall	28	7.57	7.04

Today the good weather broke somewhat. The temperature was high 97F with a little more humidity (82%). Tomorrow is supposed to be hotter and stickier.

A flying visit

We were very pleased to see Miranda this last week on a flying visit.  In practice, what with her trip to New York to attend her third wedding of the month (see photo, left) and our bridge tournament, I hardly got to see her at all.  But she'll be back soon :)

By all accounts, the wedding was a very fancy affair, with the reception at Cipriani, 42nd Street.  The Amelia Earhart gang is now almost all married (in some cases to each other). 

Now, she's off to Nicaragua to do more rural veterinary service (a.k.a. spaying and neutering).  I'm sure she'll have a wonderful time.  Her Spanish is reportedly pretty darn good now, though I dare say the Limeño dialect is quite different from that of Managua.

For those of you with a healthy skepticism of the things that we do here on Earth, and especially in the United States, you might enjoy my new blog: Letter to Europa.  It's where I rant about the zany things we do on earth.  But heed the warning: politics, religion and other such subjects may be treated with all due disrespect.  By contrast, this blog will continue to be family-friendly and, going forward, rant free.  So far the new blog has received one thumbs up and one thumbs down.  Be the first to follow and/or comment.  There should be a new entry every Monday morning if all goes according to plan.

Un buon pranzo

Or, as my former colleague Paul Tissandier would say in his inimitable French accent, A good dinner where dinner rhymes with thin air.

Kim and I continued our punctuated wedding anniversary celebrations with a fancy Italian dinner at Il Casale in Belmont,  highly recommended by the Boston Globe and, more importantly, by our gourmand friend Gloria.

My one deviation from a pure Italian experience was a draft Blue Hills IPA which was the best beer I've had in more than a year.  While, I've not been drinking much beer lately (since the fateful Reno trip), I haven't yet taken beer off the list of topics this blog supposedly covers.  The insalata semplice was really good, though not exactly simple.

From i primi I chose gnocchi, something I nearly always choose if it's available.  They were very tasty, if somewhat tired looking.  But I know how hard it is to get gnocchi both to look alert and also to taste good.  From among i secondi I decided on the trout, a big hit with the reviewers.  It was really excellent.

Fortunately, we had left a smidgeon of room for i dolci.  I ordered something called bűnet which I admit I've never heard of before.  It was a thick kind of custard (or a very thick blancmange), known over here as flan, with a robust chocolate flavor with caramel sauce.

Their menu is a strange mix of Italian and English, I must say.  I detect a certain degree of Harvard MBA influence here.  It must be a tough choice: use all English words and lose the sense of authenticity; use all Italian words and have the waiters playing translator all evening.  But occasionally there are odd combinations such as tomato sugo instead of sugo di pomodoro or simply tomato juice.

But the evening was very enjoyable and I would definitely recommend Il Casale to anyone who doesn't mind spending well north of $50 per head (or should that be pro capite?).

And while I'm on a culinary theme, I should also note that there was one restaurant in Saratoga Springs that I especially liked: Tiznow.  The fairly large dining room was entirely empty while the four of us were there, so we get pretty good service.  The food was very good too.

World Cup and Bridge Ups and Downs

Here we are playing Germany in the round of 16.  It's tense.  The problem is that it isn't the final, nor the semis, nor even the quarter final.  One of these teams will be going home after today.

Yet, I think the World Cup is better for all that.  The Europeans no longer dominate as they once did.  All five South American teams made it through to the round of 16 and one each from Central America (Mexico) and North America (USA).  There are two teams from Asia (South Korea and Japan)!  Only one team from Africa (they probably deserve better) and six from Europe.

It's half time and already it's the usual heartbreak for England.  An erroneous offside call in the first few minutes robbed Rooney of a chance to score and then there was the equalizing goal that was disallowed even though it was obvious from all angles that the ball went into the goalmouth.

Meanwhile, we had a great time at the bridge tournament in Sturbridge.  Some of the highlights were culinary.  A great dinner at Bocado in Worcester on Friday and then a terrific picnic at a lake cottage (no mosquitoes!).  Pixie was in her element.  Who knew that she was a party dog?  She loved it.  With 30 people, you'd think she'd have plenty opportunity to bark.  But she never did.  She let everyone pet her.

There were also some highlights (Kim/Donna won a side game simultaneously with my and my teammates winning a single-session Swiss).  On Thursday, I was part of a team that placed in an open Swiss.  But yesterday's bridge was unfortunately one of the low-lights.  I had a good time playing with my partner Peter but the bridge gods were definitely not on our side (see my bridge blog: Sometimes You're the Windshield...).

A day at the beach

What a wonderful day we had!  We went to Rexhame beach in Marshfield, one of only two Massachusetts that allow dogs during the summer days.  The dogs must be leashed, although they don't specify that the leash has to be tied to anything at the other end!  Several beachgoers, including ourselves, took advantage of this slovenly wording (as W.S. Gilbert put it) to allow our dogs a little more freedom of movement than they otherwise might get.  All five of us enjoyed the day very much.  The photo (play "spot the dogs") shows the other four under our new parasol, which worked brilliantly.

Puga had great fun chasing a gull (greater black backed?), including a (leash-less) swim of about 10 yards seaward.  Here (left) she is plucking up courage for the chase.  As you can see, this part of the beach was not at all crowded.  Here, we are looking towards Scituate.

And here (right) are Kim and Pixie (the latter in her favorite place).  Last evening, we watched Beverly Hills Chihuahua (well, we skipped a bit).  But we realized that Pixie is a dead ringer for Chloe.

We will celebrate "Fathers' Day" on Wednesday when Miranda returns and, with Will, we watch England's last gasp effort to get into the World Cup knockout rounds.  They will be playing Slovenia, having tied the U.S. and Algeria, the best French team in the event (17 of the 23 were born in France).  It should be an easy win, but it won't be.  So far, the team has been pathetic.  They couldn't knock the skin off a rice pudding!  What with ineptitude in the goal and middle-aged torpor among the strikers (yes, Mr. Rooney, that's you), England is embarrassing us all.

But we now have some good bridge to look forward to (K & I will be on the same team but at different tables).  And we're planning a little belated celebration of June 12th at a much recommended authentic Italian trattoria in Belmont (or should that be Belmonte?).

We went up to Saratoga but our team didn't win

I just returned from a very enjoyable week of bridge with my friend and relatively new bridge partner, Steve.  We stayed in his cottage in Stockbridge (near Tanglewood) and thence commuted to Saratoga Springs (about 75 minutes).  I enjoyed hearing Steve practicing his viola while working on my computer.  Steve was a very generous and welcoming host.

Although we enjoyed playing together, we didn't have much bridge success.  So it goes.  We had a very tough time finding teammates.  Why is it so difficult?  Well, I think I know but it's a long story and I won't go into it here.  We started on Monday evening with a non-stellar pairs game, then peaked Wednesday and Thursday in team games that eventually were unsuccessful.  Finally, we played quite dreadfully on Friday after which, as planned, we went home. 

Good performance at the bridge table depends on a number of factors: Bridge knowledge/experience, (technical) Sharpness, emotional/mental Readiness, Teammates (actual or, in a pairs game, virtual), and plain old Luck.  When all of the variable factors (SETL) come together, any really competent pair (i.e. with a decent amount of factor B) can win or place in an event.  But when they're all wrong it can be awful.  Our first two sessions were low on L; T was a problem for some of the sessions in between.  On the final day, we a little worn out I think and suffered from both E and S. 

But, here's the good news.  We never really got fed up with each other.  We both made some bad decisions at the table, and we weren't always exactly on the same page.  Overall, we had remarkably few partnership misunderstandings.

The big disappointment of the week was that the Celtics lost the NBA finals.  I'm not much of a basketball fan, but I do like to see Boston teams win.  What I saw of the game (most of the final half) was shocking.  The refereeing was really bad (for us, that is).  Basically, our opinion (backed up by most of the totally independent fans in the bar where we watched) was that the officials won the game for the Lakers, not the players.

Speaking of officials, did you see the pathetic job they did in the US/Slovenia game?  Now, you know that I'm not a die hard fan of the US soccer team, although I do like to see them win (as long as they don't beat England of course).  And I like to see smaller, less powerful nations such as Slovenia (a place I've actually been to) do well.  But the officials made two blunders, each of which made a one goal difference in the game.  Instead of winning 3-1, the US drew 2-2.  The second Slovenian goal was off-side but not called.  On the third US goal (what a second half they had!), the whistle was blown and the goal disallowed for no apparent reason.  We still don't know what the infraction was!

Finally, my title refers to that wonderful song by Carly Simon, You're so vain (incidentally, the identity of the vain one is still not really known). Saratoga Springs is a really nice small city with a very wealthy and comfortable feel to it.  Lots of good restaurants in the center of town, including Tiznow, at which we had a very enjoyable meal (we were the only diners).  I may write up my specific thoughts somewhere else like TripAdvisor. 

Well I hear you went up to Saratoga and your horse naturally won
Then you flew your lear jet up to Nova Scotia
To see the total eclipse of the sun
Well you're where you should be all the time
And when you're not you're with
Some underworld spy or the wife of a close friend
Wife of a close friend, and...

You're so vain, you probably think this song is about you
You're so vain, I'll bet you think this song is about you
Don't you? Don't You? Don't you?

Short and sweet

Our shortest foster dog project was completed in slightly over a week.  Kim collected Osito (little bear) from Great Dog Rescue after his two day quarantine at noon on Friday, May 28th and his new family picked him up from us on Friday June 4th.  I didn't get much in the way of photos of him, but this is perhaps the best one (right).  His face is a bit of a mess, and still healing, after some problems before we got him.

He's a very exuberant, cheerful dog.  Loves to go out (destination immaterial), especially if it involves a ride in the car with the back windows half-way down.  Nobody knows for sure how old he is but he behaves like a puppy so is probably around two years old, or something like that.  He's gone to a very nice family in Stoneham, first time dog owners, but they seem to have done their homework and know what they're getting into.

Meanwhile, after six and a half weeks, oil is still gushing, though possibly at a slower rate, from the hole in the bottom of the gulf of Mexico.  Are you as surprised as I am that these deep-water oil projects were authorized with no credible plan for how to fix it if things went awry?  Is that because the laws in international waters are lax?  Or, as I suspect, the oil companies have paid off the key decision makers along the way?  After all, the only casualties are a few seabirds and some fisherman from states that don't have a lot of political significance.  There's an excellent interactive map that shows the extent of the oil at the NY Times web site.

In the world-wide bridge game on Friday (anyone can enter), the good news was that we managed to beat 2783 other pairs.  The bad news was that 1954 pairs beat us.   In other words, we didn't distinguish ourselves.

Pixie (Madison) is still with us.  She is really beginning to fit into the family ways: for example she's more interested in walking in the woods.  She still barks at strangers but she quickly gets used to them.  When Miranda was here for the weekend (she was an attendee at one wedding and a bridesmaid at another), Pixie became very friendly with her.  I've tried to publicize her plight on the Carlisle internet bulletin board, but so far, nothing.

Kim's Game

Look at the items in the photo (right) for 10 seconds and then remember as many as you can.

Well, you can skip the game, but these are some of the items a dog marshal needs to take on the morning walk in the woods.  It's quite a long check list: doggy back-pack (for Pixie), electronic collar and zapper (for Puga), baggies (for all dogs), bug dope (for the humans, although we also have doggy bug-dope for longer walks), three leashes (two for emergencies), whistle, hat (to keep the bugs off my bald spot), dog treats, water (for all of us), etc. etc.

Our general plan is that we take Pixie out in the back-pack and then, at the turnaround point, get her out and let her walk back.  Like the proverbial horse to the barn, she much prefers walking back to walking out.  Her adoption plans have stalled.  What she needs is a nice, mostly-stay-at-home senior who can keep up the regimen of drops in her eye.  Ideally, that's once per hour, but in practice she sometimes has to go a few hours without (at night, for instance).  She is such a sweet, loyal, and loving dog!

Lately, we've been feeling quite pleased with Puga's electronic collar and her recall training.  She is definitely better behaved when she's wearing it, so it is rare that the dog marshal (that would be me) has to use it.  There have been some annoying needle-in-a-haystack searches along the trails for the antenna, which keeps falling off (it's faulty and needs to be replaced).  Thus far, we have managed to find it (once each).

But, this morning, we suffered a dog-training relapse during our morning perambulation of the woods.  Puga ran off through the woods to a house and either couldn't or, more likely, wouldn't (i.e. preferred not to) come back.  Some very nice people helped us retrieve her.  I think the conclusion is that the training has to be continuous.  It's not enough for her to wear the collar – we need to go through the training steps every few days.  Let's hope that will keep her on the straight and narrow.

These two photos of Puga show her new "do".  

When perambulary duty's to be done,
    to be done,
A dog marshal's lot is not an 'appy one,
    'n'appy one.

with all due apologies to Gilbert and Sullivan and definitely not to suggest that I'm not happy with my dog marshalling duties.


Incidentally, if you're not familiar with Kim's game (the title of this piece), you can look it up here.