theparkerfamily.org

Tag: Long Reads

  • i love hope solo, and harry redknapp, and not necessarily in that order…

    after a lovely Saturday of belated anniversary present shopping (we settled on a one-third off console table from pottery barn) the lady sparkler and I settled in for a long evening at home … watching two-month stale coverage of the Beijing Summer Olympics.

    a couple things, looking back two months:

    • it’s been at least a week since I had heard any one say “michael phelps,” which made me wonder if he had fired his agent considering his best post-Olympic gig has been for Rosetta Stone.
    • It seems like (back then) John McCain actually ran ads that weren’t entirely focused on trashing Barack Obama. heck, August was so long ago that I didn’t even know that MILF had a political context.
    • I once again contemplated changing my celebrity exception clause to be U.S. Olympic indoor volleyball team silver medalist Logan Tom, but quickly realized I am already married to some one who can kick my @$& so what would the point be?
    • Whichever Olympic scheduler put synchronized swimming, canoeing, water polo, and rhythmic gymnastics in the same four hour block should be fired … or shot.

    • I got to thinking about politics, the economy and my 401k, and actually got nostalgic for a minute, thinking “wow. that was a simpler time, wasn’t it?!?”. yeah, way back in august.

    so, back to the present. much of our weekend was spent on the couch watching soccer.

    the taped USA vs. Brazil woman’s gold medal match was one of the best this year. goalie hope solo (I heard she is Han Solo’s niece) pitched a shut out over 120 minutes, making her world cup benching last year — and USA’s subsequent 4-0 drubbing at the hands of Brazil — that much more inexplicable.

    but perhaps the best news of the weekend came from the English premier league, where my team (Tottenham Hotspur) finally won their first game after nine attempts (that, and the midnight firing of the entire management structure.) while the win wasn’t enough to get them out of last place, they are now just one win away from a once unthinkably-good 15th place. (weeee!)

    to be fair, Tottenham could have actually been the second best news of the weekend … the best may have been the news that the Anchorage Daily News endorsed *Obama,* saying something about “putting her one … heartbeat from the leadership of the free world is just too risky at this time.”

    in the words of conservative blogger Andrew Sullivan, the Anchorage Daily News editorial board is obviously filled with “goddamn East Coast elitist hippies.”

  • home installation: cropp-metcalfe vs. the aircraft carrier furnace

    so, i’ve been fibbing about how idyllic our life in dc’s mount pleasant is …

    sure the neighborhood is great, and the food authentic, and everything is walkable. our space is big, with lots of windows and beautiful hard wood floors. sure, we’ve decorated and painted just about every square inch of our abode.

    but, our ac/furnace sounds like you are living on the deck of an aircraft carrier.

    … right at the base of the aircraft catapult.

    … during the first 24 hours of the Operation Desert Storm.

    so, i did what any reasonable home owner would do, which is coincidentally what the lady sparkler did when she wanted a new coffee pot: i bribed our cat to destroy the heat exchanger with an acetylene torch so that it “had” to be replaced by a quieter model.

    (and, by “bribing our cat” i mean “it was at the end of its lifecycle” and, by “destroy the heat exchanger” i mean “it apparently kept catching itself on fire.”)

    being the expert and savvy city-dweller that my wife is, we quickly came to the conclusion that uncontrolled fire in our home was a bad thing, and that we should (indeed) replace our beast with a model whose white noise wouldn’t encourage me to kill the Beatles.

    so, we solicited ourselves some bids (by “we” i mean “she”), selected a vendor who ridiculously underbid the job for the equipment they were giving us, and i stayed home from work today to see it through (by “see it through” i mean “sat here and stayed out of the way.”)

    cropp-metcalfe was great. our home inspector couldn’t believe their price, and we had a friendly install team comprised of a 60-year old west african who couldn’t really speak any english and a 20-year old latin american who couldn’t really speak any english.

    the language barrier was funny enough during the installtion — they seemed to have fundamental differences of understanding on the words “up” vs. “down” and “back” vs. “forward” — but the situation became farcical when it came time to explain to me the many features of our brand spanking new (and shiny!) Carrier Infinity Series 2-stage, variable speed high efficiency furnace (58CVA).

    but, it’s up and running, works like a champ, and the whole unit makes just a whisper of a hum, compared to our old unit’s voice of God which passeth all understanding and causes our frail human melons to explode.

    if i sound giddy … it’s because i am. it’s like christmas, only in october. it’s like that independence day movie when the fireworks going off after the alien ship blew up, only better. or like when hellen keller learned to sign the word “water,” only more poignent.

    so, i’m going to celebrate tonight by (a) sleeping through the night, (b) watching TV with the sound about 20 decibels lower, and (c) going out with my wife to celebrate our anniversary.

    good night, and god bless you, and god bless the United States of America.

  • confessions of a (late blooming) red sox fan

    the red sox pulled another rabbit out of a hat, last night, and their improbably run through the playoffs continues.

    i hate to say it, but i didn’t think they’d make it out of the first round this year … with Manny almost single-handedly destroying the team and the team bogged down with so many injuries.

    So, when new kid Jed Lowrie slapped in new kid Jason Bay last night at the bottom of the ninth, the moment was that much more magical. and, all this excitement …

    … just made me feel guilty.

    earlier in the day, i had (yet another) water cooler conversation about playoff baseball.

    one was a brewers fan, who was (mostly) content with Milwaukee’s valiant run to the playoffs, which would have been the envy of every small market team in baseball if the Tampa Rays weren’t still in the thick of things.

    the other was an orioles fan was reminiscing about the last time they had young, promising talent good enough to win the rookie of the year award (answer: never) and bemoaning the groundswell of “fans” jumping on the red sox band wagon since ending their 86 year championship drought in 2004.

    that’s when i felt the guilt … i was an orioles fan (*gasp!*) as recently as 2002.

    it all started in earnest when i moved to a place about eight miles from Camden Yards. growing up, i had been raised to root for the home team: my Vermont brother (red sox), my Maine father (Boston braves, and then red sox) and my new york grandfather (Yankees) all supported the local teams. I’d argue that it’s your civic duty.

    but then 2003 happened. i moved to dc (who was desperately trying to get their own team, one which i root for in the National League) which relieved the Orioles of their position as the team next door. I also came to the realization that Peter Angelos, owner of the Orioles, was actually the anti-Christ based on his sad attempts to keep a team out of DC (a rant already rant-ed at length).

    so, without a team to cheer for (the Nats hadn’t arrived yet, and i had blacklisted the O’s) i started shopping around.

    basically, everyone in my family who follows baseball, follows the red sox … so there was some attraction there. also, i had already built up a healthy, low-boiling hatred of the Yankees (sorry, grand-pa) based lightly on those annoying 25 championships, but mostly on their thuggish jersey-based fans who streamed into Baltimore for the games each year. (if there is one thing the red sox and orioles share, it’s an un-abiding hatred of the Yankees.)

    so, after spending most of 2003 without a team to cheer for, the post-season saw me rooting *against* the Yankees yet again, which based on their ALCS match up with Boston, meant i would need to root *for* the Red Sox.

    i watched all seven games of the series that year, and got (what turned out to be) my only true flavor of the misery that being a Red Sox fan is associated with: series tied at 3 a piece, game tied 5-5, Yankees at bat to begin the bottom half of the 11th inning … first pitch is knocked out of the park by Aaron Boone. Yankees win the game. Boston loses the series.

    (ironically enough, Aaron Boon is now with the Washington Nationals, and is the one player i can’t bring myself to cheer for.)

    i barely knew what a baseball was during the last major Sox tragedy (Bill Buckner and the ball between the legs in ’86) but if it sucked anything like this did, I’m glad i was too young.

    and, from that point on, i was hooked. i even converted the lady sparkler into enough of a fan that she believes “@$%#$” is J.D. Drew’s middle name, knows that Big Papi needs to get his act together and start bringing in some runs, and thinks Jacoby Ellsbury and Dustin Pedroia are cute (I’ll take my in’s how ever i can get them).

    so, there you go. red sox nation member since October 2003. five years and two championships later, life on the bandwagon is great. i just want you new punks to know that i was hear first, even if it wasn’t by much.

  • first attempt at anniversary fails, couple reshedules for friday

    it’s our anniversary, and the lady sparkler and I packed up Saturday for some light camping along the Delaware shore (cape helopen, near rehobeth).

    the first problem is that she’s been fighting a cold, and it seemed to take up residence as the weekend went on. second problem was that the beach town was packed with old white people and their funny accents (the origin of which we never did figure out).

    but besides side-stepping octagenarians, we had a good lunch (authentic, takeout fish and chips) at the beach before heading bailing for the quiet serenity of the nearby state park.

    turns out that the economy really is in the toilet, because while every motel had bountiful vacancies, the campsite was quite literally packed with miserable looking middle-class white people. we checked in, and found our allotted 8 foot square patch of sand surrounded on all sides by kids, dogs and cars.

    our site seemed to have the special designation of being the dog run for the neighbooring sites, which would have been about 2 feet from our tent once pitched. i am pretty certain that I have never seen such a small “campsite” before, and (we decided) hope to never again.

    so, given the illness, the kids, the dogs, and the funny accents, we decided to take a long walk around the cape, eat some cheesy-so-bad-it’s-good Mexican food (Chevy’s) along the highway home and call it a day.

    in full disclosure, the day was by no means a wash … we had gorgeous weather, a beautiful hike, and a wonderful day trip. we’re going to celebrate our anniversary on Friday instead, with a meal at our favorite-est fancy restaurant in the world — Acadiana — like good affluent, married white-people should.

    hopefully we’ll have less sickness, and we’ll definitely have less funny accents.

  • hiking in rock creek park (why we love dc #9)

    it turns out that rock creek park (of Chandra Levy fame) has a network of trails … *actual* trails with switchbacks, elevation gain, wildlife, streams, and mud. not just the paved rec paths or glorified sidewalks you would imagine in a city park.

    it amazes me that residents of Mt. Pleasant won’t shut up about the glory that is the National Zoo — though it is pretty awesome — and yet they neglect to mention the National Park-grade liking trails less than three blocks away.

    even more stupefying is that we had the trails to our selves. sans a couple or dog owners and a pair of septuagenarians warning us about the perils of poison ivy (they had just been interviewed by News Channel 8 on the topic) there was nary a human in sight on a stunningly beautiful Sunday afternoon.

    there are two main trails around the park … the western ridge trail and the valley trail. we looped through the bottom third of both in about two hours. the trails go from the Zoo all the way up to Maryland, but we weren’t that brave (and, frankly, should have been in better shoes).

    we did get lost (yes, in rock creek park) and used my fancy-pants new iPhone’s GPS locator-thingy to save our bacon. I’d like to think that the coolness of the iPhone balances embarrassment of actually using it in the “wilderness” … but, sadly, it’s still just humiliating.

    speaking of maps, those provided by the Park Service show the trails as one unintelligible smudge, which makes navigation (without an iPhone) that much more exciting. there are larger, more printer friendly rock creek trail maps here:

    Map: Hiking Trails in Rock Creek Park (South)
    Map: Hiking Trails in Rock Creek Park (North)

    Explore the Photoset:
    Hiking in Rock Creek Park, Washington, DC

  • kids on campus

    It’s that time of year again … when drunken freshman boys roam the streets, parkour-ing off downtown curbs to impress non-existent girls.

    When young women move in packs of eight or more, with anorexic blonds leading the way (pressing the less-than-skinny into service as “rear guard”).

    When you see athletically mismatched couples running together, the result of conversations that must have gone something like this:

      Buff Girl: I love running. Do you run? (Please say yes, please say yes…)

      Flabby Boy: Um. Yeah. Of course! I, uh, run all the time. (Shoes. Did I bring anything other than flip-flops?)

      Buff Girl: Great! How about Saturday night? (That’ll get me off the hall, and if it’s dark people won’t be able to tell he’s a dork …)

      Flabby Boy: Sure, that’d be great. (I hope she puts out quick. I haven’t run since that presidential skills test in 7th grade, when I puked on the second-to-last lap.)

      Buff Girl: 9 o’clock? (Oh, I’ve got the perfect outfit. I hope his cute roommate sees me.)

      Flabby Boy: Great! (Dude, I *love* college! It’s exactly like I saw in that movie…)

    When on Thursday night, girls in impossibly impractical shoes — and with nary enough clothes between them for one good outfit — block up metro escalators by standing to the left.

    When on weekends, shell shocked parents lead miserable looking children around Target buying those last minute essentials, like toilet paper and granola bars.

    *sniff*

    Boy, I miss college.

  • choose your superpowers

    I’m reading a fun (read: trashy) little book called Who Can Save Us Now?: Brand-New Superheroes and Their Amazing (Short) Stories, and while I don’t normally do fiction, this one is pretty good.

    so, each hero in each story has a strange new power to meet a modern threat (to become a meerkat, to mind-control televangelists, to never forget a name) which got the lady sparkler and i to thinking about what powers we would take if given the choice …

    mine was easy. ever since i was a child, i wanted (a) to have bionic eyes which would zoom, see infrared, take pictures, etc. and (b) the power to be invisible. i’d totally be the little monkey boy who’d come back with the intel and then let the main characters go off and do the dirty work.

    she floundered a bit, but soon settled on the ability to fly (“that’s be so cool! zooming in and out of the clouds…”) and to time travel, which — i’ll have you know — includes *both* going backwards and forwards in time, *and* stopping it all together. she also wants a costume that kicks major heiney, too (first draft is above, right).

    I thought my desired superpowers say a lot about my personality, but her’s seem an even better match. i’m curious, tho … are we the only ones who have thought this through?

  • the “silly” season

    so, i don’t know about your team, but mine spent $121 million this offseason to grab nine players off the open market.

    sound too “spendy” to be true? not in brave new world that is the english premier league.

    as a long time footy player (mostly in goal) and footy fan (college, national teams, d.c. united), i always wanted to follow the epl … but it wasn’t until recently that state-siders had the means (via two dedicated cable channels and al gore’s birth of the interweb) to actually follow an english club.

    so, for the last three seasons, i’ve been following Tottenham Hotspur, a side from North London that is probably best compared to the pre-2004 Boston Red Sox … a storied club, with a good bit of success early in their history, but lately there’s been a lot of, um, “potential.”

    quick detour …

    so why pick the Spurs, as oppose to one of the more successful english clubs?

    well, there’s manchester united … who are the new york yankees of the league and they annoyingly win pretty much everything (well, “the yankees” back when they actually won things). there *is* a good club in liverpool, but they are, well, in liverpool.

    there’s chelsea, which is funded by a vaguely scary russian oligarch who spends money as if his team were the yankees (but they aren’t, which makes the spending that much more offensive). then there is arsenal, a team staffed almost entirely by the french.

    as you can see, the decision wasn’t terribly hard at all.

    back to the $121 million …

    as you might guess there isn’t a salary cap in the epl, but that’s okay because the money we are talking about isn’t actually the player’s salary — it’s the money that the team spends to get permission to sign another team’s player. (yes, you read that right.)

    for example: some bureaucrat at Tottenham watched the European footy championships this summer, and noticed that one of the Russian players (Roman Pavlyuchenko) scored a lot of goals. well, “we like scoring goals,” mr. bureaucrat thought, so he rang up Pavlyuchenko’s team (Spartak Moscow) in Russia and gave them a lot of money ($25 million) for the right to sign Roman to a contract worth even more money (5 years, at $100,000+ a week).

    now, if you made it past the made it past the “veritable orgy of money” part and noticed that we had to bring in *nine* players this off season … you may have thought that so much turnover could be good (boston celtics!) but probably isn’t (florida marlins).

    right now, only eight Spurs (out of 40+ on the expanded roster) have been on the team for longer than two years. and, (oh, by the way) we are on our 6th manager in ten years.

    fortunately for spurs-fans’ sanity, there are only four months out of the year when players are allowed to transfer between teams (three in the summer, one in January). the summer transfer window just closed, which should bring much needed (if temporary and obligatory) stability to the team. so, for now, no more “silly season” and we’ll have to shut up an play, for better or worse.

    while we gained a bunch of good players during this window (a keeper from Brazil, midfielders from Croatia, Mexico and England, that Russian striker I mentioned) we lost two players who scored more than half of our goals last season. (ouch.)

    if i was a cubs fan, i’d say “well, there’s always next year” …

    … except that’s actually not always the case in the epl. as a special brand of torture for english footy fans, if your team finishes as one of the three worst teams in the league, you are “relegated” down to a lower league and have to win your way back up some later season.

    imagine the washington nationals getting booted to the minor leagues, the memphis grizzlies getting demoted to the nba’s “developmental” league, or the miami dolphins playing a year of college ball next season (… yes, they’d all still lose).

    so, *hopefully* there’s always next year …

    (oy, vey.)

  • fenway park, south

    MVI_1583 — Originally uploaded by [ecpark]

    the red sox had a home game today in baltimore, maryland … with more red sox fans in attendance than they can even fit in fenway park north (i.e. the one in boston).

    you think i am exaggerating for effect, but:

    • there we no orioles fans in three rows below, six rows above, and one section to either the right or left. zip, zero, none.
    • two or three times an inning, the “lets-go-red-sox” chant would take over the stadium (see audio/video above). during the first two innings, a handful of orioles fans booed, but by the third inning they had all but given up.
    • red sox garb outweighed orioles garb (conservatively) by four to one. even in the season ticket seats down each baseline.
    • a sox bus tour in left field started “the wave” immediately after Jason Bay’s second homerun, and there were enough Sox fans in the crowd to sustain it for four or five circuits around the yard.
    • the only time i saw flash bulbs the whole night was when papelbon took the field in the 8th, and when they came there were enough for an olympics opening ceremony.

    i actually feel bad. it’s incrediably tough to be an orioles fan at these sorts of games — i followed the O’s myself for neigh on two decades, until i finally had my fill of peter angelos being nasty to d.c. — and the true fans must just stay home.

    as proof, some of the people behind us were kidding with one of the beer guys about how the only people who wanted beer in our section were the ones on the top row, but the beerman snapped back, saying: “i can’t wait until friday when the real fans come back.”

    the sad thing is he’s right … the fan’s just didn’t show, obviously biding their time until the sox (or yankees, who actually manage to have even more offensive fans) leave town. even the ushers looked beleagured.

    funny aside: we played “count the manny ramirez jerseys” today at the park and got up to just four. four! and he was only traded from the sox to the dodgers (for jason bay) three weeks ago.

    now, for reference … there were 200+ papis, 100+ papelbons, 20+ becketts/dice-ks/youks. there were even a dozen brand-spanking-new jason bay tops. but the manny jerseys have been euthanized from red sox nation.

    i’d wonder what that says about red sox nation’s feeling for manny, but i think it’s pretty apparent that it translates to “don’t let the door hit you in the !@#$@# on the way out.”

  • wanted: stupid, drunk people

    [Photo]
    ECPA20080816_1578, originally uploaded by [ecpark].
    i don’t like picking on the d.c. government (mainly, because it’s not as bad as everyone makes it out to be) but tonight has temporarily pushed me over the edge.

    so, there was a sobriety checkpoint tonight, southbound on 16th street. southbound, as in going *into* the city. obviously, lots of people get drunk in residential areas on Saturday night and *then* drive into the city after midnight … as opposed to vice versa.

    interesting hypothesis, but not my main complaint: they setup the roadblock just past the exit for park road.

    for those of you playing at home, park road — which was left wide open — leads to (a) a residential neighborhood, (b) a great cut-through street for people going to the bars of georgetown, dupont and woodly/cleveland park, and (c) one block away from a road that will let you drive around the checkpoint entirely.

    to make matters worse, they put the “sobriety checkpoint” sign at the top of the block, to ensure that anyone who could read knew they should take this right.

    how drunk do you have to be to get caught by this checkpoint? were they hoping to catch drunk people who were leaving their homes, but weren’t going towards the clubs, who weren’t able to read, and were too upstanding to drive drunk through a residential neighborhood?

    who’d fall for that? was paris hilton in town? mark foley? Vito Fossella? the bush twins?