Democracy, alive and well

With less fanfare and significantly fewer tears than in 2008, I walked the two blocks from my house to the neighborhood school that doubles as my polling station.  As the chilly, 7:30 am sun crept higher in the sky, a long line of residents in DC's Ward 4 gathered to vote.  Over an hour and a half later, my warm winter coat, hat, gloves, and scarf could not keep my toes from going numb (nor could they prevent the parking ticket that appeared on the windshield my car for "failure to properly affix registration stickers").

On a day when Nate Silver makes dizzyingly positive predictions about the national election and when I learned, to my great relief, that my mom voted in favor of same sex marriage in Maryland, it is difficult not to feel optimistic about the possibilities to come. No matter who prevails tonight, however, I simply hope that he leads our citizens forth to success, security, and opportunity; that he projects humility, confidence, and intellectual curiosity; and that he conducts our foreign affairs in a way that earns the respect and admiration of the world.

My feet are still cold, but I feel great.  Like the broad cross section of society present at the polls this morning, I proudly took part in the most important of civic duties.  That alone is reason to smile.

Along the shores of the Bosphorus

About a year ago, I bought an impromptu ticket to visit Istanbul between Christmas 2011 and New Year's Day 2012.  Though the city and, more broadly, Turkey both deserve a much longer visit, we packed as much as we could into a short time.  One of the most relaxing things we did during these busy few days was to take a cruise along the Bosphorus Strait, the body of water that slices through the city and separates the European side from the Asian.

The cruise lasted all afternoon, but the highlight was the sweeping view of the sunset over the spires and minarets of Sultanahmet, the Old City.  Cliched as it may be, there is something undeniably contemplative and peaceful about watching the world's progression from day to night.  From the warm light and long shadows of late afternoon spring vibrant streaks of orange, crimson, and purple before all gives way to a graceful darkness, like the soft, inevitable lowering of the curtain after an engaging performance.  And in that reflective moment, all is beautiful, and heartbreaking, and good.

Blue line to Houlton

This map, posted on a website called Visual.ly is a graphic look at America's major interstates, represented as numbered subway lines.  Very compellingly done, in my opinion.  Also, for some reason, visualizing highways as commuter train lines seems to shorten sprawling cross-country distances into very manageable journeys.  As in: if I just hopped on the Blue Line toward Houlton and transferred to the Green Line in Boston, I could be in Seattle in no time.

To see a larger, higher resolution copy, visit Visual.ly directly and click on the map.

An early spring

It is now officially spring, though, judging by the weather, winter checked out sometime around the end of February.  Aside from the occasional rainstorm, we have had three weeks of nearly perfect weather.  I can't remember the last time that's happened, in any season.

Despite the apparently nasty, cascading ecological consequences of a warm, nearly snowless winter, I am basking in it for the moment.  And, in our backyard, the lack of cold has had a bonus effect on last year's garden: the parsley, arugula and rosemary survived and are now thriving in all of their spring glory.

Our rosemary has actually survived a couple years now - I think it is quite hardy, though its size is limited by the shallow window box that it calls home.  But parsley is not supposed to be a year-round plant.  I should not be able to walk out the backdoor with a dusting of snow on the ground in January and fetch a handful of fresh parsley to garnish a pot of lentil soup.  Yet I cooked with it throughout the winter and here it is, standing tall and approaching bush-like vitality in March.  Let's see if my brown thumb can keep it alive through the actual growing season.

Parsley: Too Bushy for March

Dinner with some true loves

To celebrate Valentine's Day, my roommates and I sat down for a candelit dinner with some of the true loves of our lives: meatloaf and mashed potatoes.  Broccoli tagged along too, just for kicks.

All that we see or seem

As I've noted before, I love when I am up early enough to hear the Writer's Almanac.  The poignant poem for today, Edgar Allan Poe's "A Dream Within a Dream," nearly brought me to tears in the car.  Although, maybe that says more about me than the poem.

Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow—
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand—
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep—while I weep!
O God! Can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! Can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream

And isn't the music beautiful?  Rest in peace, Jim.