Snippets from the week:

Finding the soap we bought in France nearly three years ago just as we run out.

The car radio (which is on its last legs) does not die while we’re stuck in traffic, which allows us to sing along with Rudi’s fantastic playlist created just for our beach trip.

A fantastic fresh flounder sandwich and red birch beer for a late lunch on the beach.

Waves!

Dolphins!

My new beach towel (my first in nearly two decades) is gigantic and absorbent, and I snuggle into it.

Four flavors of fudge to take home.

Dinner for two at a roadside diner costs less than $15.

A drive to the country means two weekend days in a row with Rudi.

My new baseball book, Diamond Ruby is excellent, perhaps the best I’ve read this year.

Five of us around John’s table after a delicious dinner. Nicole gives me locally produced soy milk with my hunk of cake (my grandfather would have approved of her slice sizes), and we reminisce about jobs we had as teenagers and our first cars.

Dead a/c. At least it’s mostly sticking to highs in the 80s this week.

A cupcake with Elspeth post-work. She’s back in the area, doing important work in a field she’s excited about. I’d like to be more like her when I grow up.

Crackerjack at the ballpark. Two home runs from the Nats means a notch in the win column.

Dinner at the Argonaut post-game. My root beer hails from the south, and my fish taco does not disappoint.

The garden is not as sad as I feared it might be. The chili pepper plant is covered with buds and blossoms, and there are more flowers on the squash. We celebrate by having last week’s squash in a stir-fry.

Thunderstorms mean the music at the Yards ends just after I arrive. We snag a spot under the pavilion before the rain begins (although encroaching puddles would later force a shift), and John, Rudi, Nicole, and I have a picnic with a view of lightning. Local white peach butter on baguette is the hit of the evening. We are the last ones to leave, long after darkness falls.

My week, in snippets:

Up earlier on a Saturday to fill water barrels at the garden than I am to go to work during the week.

Rudi’s away for the weekend, but he’s left me a container of sesame noodles to eat for dinner, so I don’t have to scrounge.

I follow it up by baking the half-roll of Gramma cookies that didn’t go to Dad.

Sleep in the middle of the bed.

Farmers’ market: lots of fruit. An almond-plum muffin with strong tea for brunch.

Hot and humid, but there is one person’s worth of shade over the benches in front of Teaism. No one else joins me outside.

A brief, strong rainstorm brings no rainbow, but does bring Rudi home.

We sit at Starbucks as the sun goes down. Rudi talks about the weekend’s rides and festivities while I knit on a sock.

A weekend’s effort brings The Woman in White to a conclusion after nearly three months in progress.

Monday brings disappointment from a deferred deadline.

We seek consolation by watching Gentlemen Prefer Blondes on a screen down on the Mall and eating a picnic. The sky is pink and the Capitol gleams bright white. The tomatoes are sweet. My grape juice is fizzy. The crowd applauds.

A mid-week watering trip to the garden nets a two-color summer squash, two black cherry tomatoes, and three red chili peppers.

Just a smidgen of rain and the weather cools off to the mid-80s. So pleasant.

A late lunch at the farmers’ market offers me a lassi, a mushroom empanada, a cherry muffin, and a container of raspberries. I carry a bouquet of zinnias back to the office to split with some coworkers.

It’s nearly twilight when I leave the office to walk home. The sky is violet and the clouds on the horizon an inky indigo.

We are all running late, but I am still the first to arrive at the Yards. I get a scoop of blueberry white chocolate ice cream and people watch. Eventually, Rudi, John, and Nicole join me. We sit on a blanket for drinks in the dark and later head out for pizza.

Curling up on the couch with a book while I wait for some delicates soaking in the sink causes an hour to fly past unnoticed. I tell myself “Just one more chapter” over and over and over again.

Amanda does a post on Mondays that lists what she and her family did over a weekend. I thought I’d adapt it to share what I did this week:

Sleep until noon after Rudi leaves for a bike ride.

Then up for sock knitting and Beach Party on Netflix for a summer-themed afternoon.

A ball game in the evening with my favorite pairing — the Mets and the Nationals.

Our seats are in the full sun, so we stand on the concourse and watch the game from behind the pricey seats.

When the concession stand that serves veggie burgers turns out to be out of patties, the line cook offers to make me a patty-less burger and then gives it to me for free. It was delicious.

Our blueberry supplier still has blueberries — and a second crop of luscious strawberries.

Off to Georgetown to the National Pinball Museum. After an edifying trip through the museum portion, we spend an hour pulling plungers, flipping the ball toward targets, and aiming for high scores. Rudi is best at the Guns ‘n’ Roses game, while I excel on a Jurassic Park machine. We both struggle with the games from the 1940s, ’50s, and ’60s, which require a different set of skills than modern machines. [Note to locals: The museum is being booted out by new owners (who presumably are looking for higher-end clients) after Labor Day, so head over this month if you want to check it out.]

Time for nourishment! Cupcakes at an outdoor cafe table. Mine is called smurfette — lemon with blueberries. Slightly alarming name if thought about too long…

On to the garden! It hasn’t been watered in days… Long, grateful gulps of water. A few tomatoes to pick. A squash to watch. No beans yet.

Money back from Connecticut because my car lived there only one month out of 12 last year. Surprise money is the best kind. So are honest bureaucrats.

Fort Reno to listen to bands. And eat pie. But mostly to hear music. Loose Lips is the best of the three groups. Cooler air; cloud lightning.

A customer service plea finally gets the right answer. I am grateful.

Cooler weather lasts. Make time to sit outside for a few minutes to eat lunch.

Rain!

Lots of episodes of Numb3rs while I test knit a sock.

The second part of The Woman in White — finally! I didn’t think it was possible to read this slowly.

A blackberry and cream popsicle.

Jazz at the Sculpture Garden — and space on a bench to sit.

Home with the cats.

I try not to meld my work life and my real life, because, well, I’d rather not waste my time thinking about work when I don’t have to. However, every once in a while, I get to do something fun for work and then I like to share it.

Right now, I’m working on compiling some factoids that pertain to science. For instance, did you know that the 27 moons of Uranus are named after characters created by Shakespeare and Pope (Alexander, not The)? [Confidential to Karen: I said Venus earlier, but was not paying attention. Definitely not Venus, although Venutian makes a far superior word to … Uranian? Uranussian? Uranusian? Urani?]

Do you have a favorite science fact*? Care to share it in the comments? I can’t promise you fame or glory, but I can say that teachers and students will benefit from your knowledge. Or, at least that’s what I tell myself to get me through the day.

*Fact: A truth supported by testable evidence. Not something made up. But don’t worry if you don’t have a paper trail; I’m going to look it all up anyway, so include those Flying Spaghetti Monsters if you must.

It’s not until you spend a couple of hours listening only to birdsong and wind blowing through trees that you realize how much ambient noise there is in the city. Although I live near a happening area of town, I would describe my block as a relatively quiet one. And, yet, Sunday afternoon, I kept pausing along our hike to marvel at the lack of noise. Oh, sure, there were sounds — in addition to the birds and the wind, cicadas whirred past, unseen animals occasionally crashed through the woods, frogs kerplunked through puddles in their hurry to escape us, and the earth crunched under our feet, grass whistling in our wake. But they were actual, discernible sounds, rather than the omnipresent buzz of urban life that you don’t notice has settled into your head until it is lifted. (more…)

Every once in a rare July, you get an absolutely perfect day of weather. Should such a gem of a creature arrive in your life, I hope you hop on its back, hold on tight, and follow where it will lead you, even if it’s not remotely where you expected to end up.