Papillons on Parade: Pupsters Picnic in the Tidal Basin in DC

Beth and I don't make it into DC every year for the cherry blossoms, but the fantastic weather made this year a must-see, so I packed a picnic supper and loaded Didi, Chance, and Mr. Parker into the car and met Beth in Vienna after her late-afternoon petsitting appointment for the drive into the District.

In the early 20th century, the mayor of Tokyo gifted the United States with flowering cherry trees as a gesture of the then-growing friendship between Japan and the United States; the trees were planted all along the Tidal Basin near the National Mall in Washington, D.C., where late every March they provide a fantastic show of natural beauty.  Tracking the cherry blossoms ("sakura" in Japanese) as they bloom from the south to north through Japan is a national pastime there, and the National Cherry Blossom Festival each year in D.C. is likewise a huge tourist draw.

Indeed, fighting the crowds can be something of a nightmare, but going on Easter Sunday in the late afternoon seemed a decent bet to dodge some of the tourists (not to mention that the much-warmer-than-usual weather had the blossoms peak several days early--the leaves were beginning to show through on several of the earlier-blooming "indicator" trees already).

We've been in to see the cherry blossoms times when we needed a coats, gloves, and hats, and times when the wind has ripped across the Potomac like a frozen knife, so a clear early evening in the low 70s was really about as perfect as weather as I've ever seen this time of year here, and the dogs were thrilled to get out for an expedition (Didi started celebrating and leaping around as soon as she saw me filling up their water bottle at home).

Beth took Chance and Mr. Parker, while I had Didi and my camera gear (and our supper on my back).  It was something of a hike from where we parked (East Potomac Park) back to the Tidal Basin proper, but with landmarks always in sight, navigating was pretty easy: the Jefferson Memorial straight ahead, and the Washington Monument just across the basin.

We ran into another Papillon owner and had a chat for a while; I managed to keep Didi under control (and less barky than usual) for most of the walk, even when she passed a big hound dog--though there was no stopping her barking at the poodle, a dog for which Didi shares her Daddi's disdain.  What was really amazing was the number of tourists who wanted to stop and even asked us to pose with the Papillon!  I think we tried to get them all three to sit together in the middle of a crowded thoroughfare and all look at the camera ... well, at least six or seven times that I recall.  One Indian gentleman prodded his teenaged daughters to go pose with the dogs, despite the fact the girls were clearly terrified of dogs (hopefully they learned not all dogs are bad, and that even those who bark, are likely lacking in the bite department).

I managed nonetheless to get several great photos, inspiring me to want to make a return trip later (sans pupsters) to simply walk the National Mall at the right times of day to get some great shots.  I have to think of a good time to do so: May, perhaps?  When kids aren't yet on vacation, the weather not yet boiling hot.  But even whilst managing one Papillon and providing moral support for two others, I still managed several nice shots of the Jefferson Memorial.

We stopped in the middle of a field to have our picnic lunch, but unfortunately a couple of joggers cutting through (the pupsters hate joggers), then a small child running toward them, had all three of them yipping and yapping away.  We did get to enjoy some curried deviled eggs I'd made this morning--can't have Easter without hard-boiled eggs, can you?--as well as a ciabatta-bread sandwich with homemade pesto sauce and cheese, a few grapes, and for me, a nibble of prosciutto.  Before we could have our dessert, though, the doggies were out of control, and it was time to bag things up and head for home.

On the way back, several more groups asked for pictures with the doggies.  At one point, Chance got away from Beth and chased a cyclist a heart-stopping 20 feet or so right alongside the busy street--fortunately, he was recovered with no harm,  But Chancois! Mr. Poo! Must you scare your mommy like that?

Lucky for Chance (and Beth's cardiovascular system), Chance didn't really think of going into traffic--just after the cyclist who was riding illegally on the sidewalk.  It did curtail my opportunities to get shots of the fantastic twilight reflection on the Tidal Basin, all in the pink of the trees and the red-indigo of the deepening sky at sunset, unfortunately, but that's for another time.

Well, it was a fun day and one which reminded me that it's not all just sprawling suburbs and endourbs piled with high-rise condo towers and offices with their on-premises trendy shopping options.  And its not just the natively-gardened corner of the neighborhood we're building one step at a time to flow into the nearby nature preserve.  No, there's history, and a beauty in what humans have done which isn't strictly nature, too.

Scenes from Snowpocalyse Now Redux

The December blizzard we experienced in the Washington, D.C., area should have been a once-in-a-generation event, yet here we are again in the same winter season with two feet or more of abominable whiteness on the ground.

Yes, it's only the first week of February, and we in northern Virginia are challenging a record more than a century old for total snow.  One part of me wants to see the rest of the winter break that record (set in 1898-99) and be a part of history.  The other part--probably the saner bit--thinks it's time for Old Man Winter to receive a visit from Dr. Kevorkian.

The doggies do love a good snowstorm, and Beth diligently dug them trenches all over the yard (doubling as access for us to refill the bird feeders and for me to knock snow off the tree limbs).  Even with those trenches, the pupsters managed to become little snowballs in short time, their long fur collecting bibs of ice and snow.

Unfortunately, Beth pulled a muscle in her shoulder doing all that shoveling, and I think we've a few plants which won't make it even despite all the work I put into dislodging the thick, heavy snow before it could do much damage.  Our beautiful American Holly in the front bed, for example, already was looking a bit peaked--likely due to root freeze after a lengthy cold snap struck ground soaked through with the melt of our last few snowstorms.  Now, it's broken in half by the weight of the snow.  I hesitate to guess what has happened to our other evergreen shrubs and young trees, all of which are currently visible as only slight mounds in the snow.  Somehow, our River Birch seems okay after a third time of having to be rescued from being bent in half by the weight of ice and snow.

Fortunately, we kept power through the storm and its aftermath.  Back in December, I thought to myself that things like a snow blower, tire chains, and a generator would be nice to have on hand, but the infrequency of storms necessitating their use really made them poor investments.  I'm sticking to that thought.  How many more snows can we get like this?

At least this time around, we got plows through our neighborhood, including down our cul-de-sac.  Thanks to the plows, I only had to shovel out the driveway, and of course the 5-foot-tall wall of plowed, packed snow at the end of it.  Needless to say, after that task, I wonder why I pay gym dues.

A beach home in the Bahamas is looking awfully good right now.

Christmas Dinner (Three Days Early): The Many Days of Christmas, Day Two

Day Two of the Christmas cheer at Chateau Papillon kicked off with more presents and our traditional Christmas dinner, only three days ahead of schedule.

Since Beth is a vegetarian and I do most of the cooking at Chateau Papillon, it's not that often that I get to enjoy a holiday treat like turkey, stuffing, and gravy, so understandably I look forward to the holiday feast-days, and with them the scent of turkey in the air and dreams of days of turkey salad, turkey soup, reheated turkey and gravy, and so forth. I'm like the dad in A Christmas Story, and we even have our own "Bumpus Hounds," albeit pint-sized versions of them--Didi did manage to snag a chunk of turkey breast two years ago (she got to the turkey even though it was sitting at counter-height!).

When it comes to cooking at Chateau Papillon, Beth is my she's my sous-chef, if one who can't be trusted with typical sous-cheffery like prepping the vegetables due to my fears she'd lop off a fingertip with her knife "skills." Nonetheless, she's invaluable in providing an extra set of hands--don't let me sell her short.

Together, then, we prepared our feast. Actually, I started the day before, brining the turkey by a method based on Alton Brown's recipe. Believe me, brining makes for the absolute best turkey by far, much better (and safer) than methods like deep frying. After defrosting the bird, it goes in a cooler with a mixture of salt, vegetable broth, sugar, several seasonings (allspice, ginger, peppercorn, etc.), and this year, apple cider. This stands overnight (at a minimum!), kept well-refrigerated, then after rinsing off the brine, I stuff the turkey's cavity with apples, onions, rosemary, thyme, sage, and a cinnamon stick or two, and into the oven it goes.

After roasting, the turkey drippings come out and form the basis of a fantastic gravy--and if you know how, gravy is incredibly easy to make: you simply start with a roux of melted butter stirred and lightly cooked with an equal portion of sifted flour, then gradually whisk in the turkey drippings and cook until thickened. I like to finish the gravy with a splash of good cream sherry or perhaps some Irish whiskey, but the drippings themselves are so flavorful there's no need to add additional seasoning.

For Beth, I prepared a fillet of Chilean Sea Bass (MSC certified for the sustainable fishing folks amongst us) by pan-frying it after crusting with some panko and Parmesan cheese, then finishing it in the oven until cooked through. Yes, the vegetarian eats fish... though it took me years of wheedling and a Faustian bargain to myself eschew fois gras to accomplish that culinary upgrading. As sides, we had goat cheese and garlic mashed potatoes, fresh French-style green beans with a splash of olive oil and pepper, a sweet potato casserole I made up on the fly, and stove-top (not the brand, but the method) stuffing. Normally, I'd bake up some rolls from scratch, but due to time constraints, we went with a loaf of ciabatta from Whole Foods.

A nice muscadette from California (a fairly sweet white wine) finished things off.

Before I get into Round Two of presents, let me pause to point out the photo opening this post, which shows Beth enjoying the fimo clay owl figurine I brought back from Denver International Airport earlier this fall. Now, onto a second night of presents being unwrapped: above, you'll see me and Mr. Parker with a big, heavy package from Beth, which turned out to be a laptop stand--basically, a tray table designed for use with a laptop; quite a nice and very thoughtful gift indeed!

Beth's presents from me included an aged brass night light cut with a butterfly (or Papillon, if you will) design, which I picked up at the Elkhorn Slough gift shop out in the Monterey area earlier this year while birding. I also gave her a DVD of Point Break, a film Beth had mentioned as a favorite every time she watched Hot Fuzz (recall the many scenes where Nick Frost's character quotes American action-cop films, even reenacting the shooting-into-the-air scene from Point Break at one point...).

Onward the holidays march--what gifts might we unwrap next?

Ringing in the Yuletide: The Many Days of Christmas, Day One

For several years, we've toyed with the idea of juggling the holidays a bit and celebrating our Christmas on a date other than 12/25. When you have relatives living in three different states, that can make enjoying the holidays with each group--as well as having time for ourselves--a daunting bit of scheduling wizardry.

Because we have young nieces and nephews on each side of the family, too, that means we're almost certainly on the road come Christmas Day itself--and now that Beth is working her petsitting business, she's of course got many a booking for the most traditional of celebratory dates.

One date that always appealed to both of us was the Winter Solstice. Our wedding anniversary is exactly six months earlier, on the Summer Solstice (most years, anyway), and after all, the holiday season predates Christian times significantly: most civilizations throughout history have marked the longest night of the year and the coming of longer days with celebration. (Don't forget that based on the Bible, Jesus' birth would not have been remotely near December 25th--all Bill O'Reilly's protests aside, it's a historical fact that the Christian church set the date of Christmas deliberately to coincide with existing "pagan" celebrations like Yule and Saturnalia, so how about we put the Saturn back in Saturnalia for a change?)

So we made 12/21 our day of "Collation," which is a ritual Beth's family brought to the holidays based in some sort of Catholic tradition. Collation includes an evening (usually Christmas Eve) of feasting, for us usually hors d'oeuvres such as my Carta di Musica crispy flatbread and various cheeses accompanied by some wine and a few snackable sweets. Both my family and Beth's also have a practice of getting a Christmas Eve present (an "early" in the Foutz/Bottom family canon) or two, so we decided to exchange a few of our gifts on the Winter Solstice in addition to the meal.

Of course, the Papillons always love gifts and couldn't quite understand that the presents exchanged were for us and not them; they were understandably interested in each package we chose to open.

The evening's gifts included a new burr coffee grinder for Beth (the "coffee slut" if you believe the t-shirt I gave her a couple of Christmases ago), along with a beautiful handmade clay owl I bought from one of my favorite stores in the Denver airport, Colorado Collection--the latter in and of itself a holiday tradition going on five or six years now for me. (In fact, I made a trip connecting through Denver in November entirely so that I could visit the shop for this year's gifts!) Beth gave me a book on fairy houses for our garden, along with a more practical gift in the form of a pocket-lined bedskirt to get our shoes and the like in order.

We've left plenty more gifts for each other for the days to come, as we do indeed expect to celebrate the many days (if not twelve) of Christmas this year.

Winter Wonderland: The D.C. Area's Record-Setting Snow

I'm pretty used to calls for incredible snow and winter weather going off like a wet firecracker--a fairly common occurrence for the Washington, D.C., area--so when forecasters initially projected the potential for record-setting snow this weekend, I took their claims with more than the FDA's daily recommended dose of salt.

I took the afternoon of the 18th off from work so that I could get some handmade presents finished up in time to deliver to family in Lynchburg. Imagine my shock that apparently everyone else in the Washington area had also taken off early: in stopping at Safeway for some groceries for our planned Yuletide feast, I had to search the parking lot for a cart (even the cart returns were empty), and lines for checkout stretched almost to the back of the store. Seeing as how I wanted milk to make some homemade Nolly 'Nog, I was happy to discover the frantic pre-blizzard shoppers had not cleaned out all the proverbial bread and milk yet.

So fast forward to 11:00pm on the 18th; the snow had started around nine, and after two hours, didn't look like all that much. The long-exposure photo (above) taken from my home office window shows the back yard shortly before I went to bed.

I got up with Beth at 5:00am on the 19th; she had a diabetic cat petsitting client who needed an insulin shot, and I went outside to help dig out her car. At that point, we had about 6-7 inches of snow on the ground, but Beth tried her car and found it drivable, so once we got the drive and walk shoveled clear, I bid her a safe trip and went back to bed for a couple more hours (cell phone at the bedside in case I would be needed to rescue her).

Another long-exposure photo (above) taken in the pre-dawn cold and gloom shows my car still covered in snow, with Beth on her way to her kitty client--whose owners were due to fly back to National later in the day.

A week or so ago we got the first snow of the season, an incredibly wet and heavy batch which wreaked a merry path of havoc over the plants we'd interred in our yard with such care over the spring and into the fall. That snow bent one trunk of our river birch all the way to the ground (the tree had yet to shed all of its leaves, leaving that trunk vulnerable to collecting snow and ice); I think it pulled through once I rescued it. Our front yard hollies likewise had been weighed down and then frozen to the ground by the treacherous, wet slush.

You can imagine my dismay then when I spoke to my sister Erika (in Lynchburg, VA) before our snow even started and took her report of "huge, wet snowflakes." After digging Beth's car out on Saturday morning, then, I spent a while rescuing the hollies from the weight of so much snow. A few branches and stems had been broken, but I am hopeful the plants pulled through on the whole--though several are still completely buried beneath the snowfall, like the little male pollinator holly.

The doggies absolutely loved the snow, as they always do. Even th0ugh it was deeper than the Papillons are tall, they bounded out the side door into the yard, and Didi made a beeline (or a bunny-hop line?) straight for where her ball lay buried beneath several inches of snow. Beth followed behind with the snow shovel, clearing a deeper trench for the boys to follow. I don't know how Didi knew so accurately where in all that mess of white her ball was, but it was hilarious watching her furiously excavate around it. (Yes, she can actually carry that big yellow ball around, too.) Above, you can see her proudly demanding her Daddi throw her ball.

The back yard birds weren't as thrilled by the weather, though they did put in such appearances in abundance that we had to refill the feeders twice during the day. We had avian visitors from the normal flocks of juncos and sparrows of various ilk to Pileated Woodpeckers, crows, and jays.

For Beth's evening petsitting visit, I knew she wouldn't even make it out of the neighborhood in her car. Problem was, she'd parked behind me when she got home in the morning. So that meant shoveling enough space to back her car out of the way--as well as clearing a path for mine, too; the snow was so deep it left even SUVs designed for offroading struggling to make it up our cul-de-sac. The snow had continued all day, leaving an additional 8 inches or so of snow atop Beth's car, and we had to go out for the third time that day to clear the walk (no mail ever came though--I don't blame the mail for not running, though don't they say something about "Neither rain nor snow..." and all that?) and the driveway.

The trip out to petsit for the diabetic kitty client was an adventure in and of itself, which I'll post about shortly in another entry.

We ended the day around 9:30pm with flurries still falling and the yard clocking in at 21 inches of snow in the flat areas, and drifts well over 30 inches deep in several places.

Renovating an Antique, Part I: Reupholstering a Chair for the Library

Growing up, one of my vivid memories was of the furniture in my grandmother's upstairs sitting room, which had arms that looked like they ended in hands--something that creeped me out to no end; amidst the quiet clicking of the grandfather clock and the ticking floor register of the gas furnace, I imagined turning my back for just a moment and then finding the antique chair had come up to grab me from behind.

Several years ago, my aunt Mae had taken the sitting room furniture off when my aunt Marian wanted to redo the room; Aunt Mae never got around to having the chair and couch reupholstered, though, and recently, she offered them to Beth and me. As the wood itself was in great shape (particularly given the furniture is at least 100 years old), we decided to do the upholstery ourselves. Above, you can see the "before" shot, with Mr. Parker, enjoying the ratty old fabric. Aunt Mae must have tossed the cushions at some point (probably just as well, given the state of the fabric underneath).

After a lengthy, hot afternoon pulling out dozens of upholstery tacks, Beth and I finally got all the old fabric off, and the springs removed. To make things simpler, I used the table saw to cut a base platform to replace the springs; above, you can see that Didi quite approves of the chair which will soon be added to our library.

A couple of years ago, I repaired one of our antique kitchen chairs after its seat broke; in the process, I removed the old cushioning and replaced it with memory foam, making it the envy of the dining room table. Taking similar inspiration for the antique claw-armed chair, Beth and I cut a block of 3" thick standard foam, topped with an inch of memory foam padding from an old bed pillow top we'd quit using; a bit of foam glue pieced the layers together nicely.

I covered the cushion with the same velvet I used on our repaired dining room chair (we'd bought the entire bolt of the stuff when the Vienna location of Hancock Fabrics went out of business a couple of years back). Now, we need to sew the back cushion and do a bit of trim work to finish things off; more on that when we're done.

Meet Silver Whiskers Petsitting

You may recall from an earlier post that Beth lost her job on Christmas Eve, a victim of the economic downturn despite over a decade at her job as Publications Manager for the Institute for Connecting Science Research to the Classroom.  Although she's been applying to several jobs a week, so far, she's not even getting nibbles.

As a backup plan, Beth is working on establishing Silver Whiskers Petsitting, which offers quality in-home petsitting specializing in senior pets and birds in the Fairfax, VA, area.  Given her experience raising three dachshunds--one from his birth to his death at age 17--Beth knows the special needs of senior and geriatric pets and is able to offer them the patience and care they need.  Plus, unlike most petsitters, Beth brings experience with birds to the table as well, having cared for our flock of the "Silly Birds" and her transgender Senegal parrot, Sam, for years.  In fact, shortly after Beth and I met, she bird-sat my then-two cockatiels (the "Silly Birds," Rydia and Locke) while I went to England for a week.

So do you need quality in-home care for your pets?  Beth is willing to travel within Fairfax County, Virginia, in the D.C. suburbs to give mid-day walks or up to four daily visits for your beloved pets, be they young or old, all for an affordable price in today's economy.

Visit her Web site at www.silverwhiskerspets.com to learn more and to schedule a free consultation today!

Chateau Papillon

Monday morning's closing went off without a hitch--so we're now the proud owners of "Chateau Papillon!"  After months of waiting (between the three-and-a-half months it took from our initial offer and winning acceptance from the seller's bank for the short sale to the month of getting ready to close--not to mention our other misadventures in real estate), we're chomping at the bit, so to speak, to get our new home ready and to move in.

First things first: this is, after all, Chateau Papillon, so we've several steps to make it a friendly home and yard for Didi and Chance.  We've gotten a few bids for fence construction and are moving forward with a privacy fence (both for our sanity and that of the neighbors--we want to prevent as much barking as possible!), compliments in part of Beth's mom, P.A.T., who wanted to give us a fence as a housewarming gift.

Next, the carpet has to go; once either doggie or any of their friends mark, it would become a sponge for pee.  The basement is getting environmentally friendly, sustainable cork; the bedrooms are either getting their existing hardwood refinished or will be receiving a new coat of solid bamboo (again, a "green" floor--sense a theme?)  Beth and I will be doing all the work, so within the limits of our finances, we'll largely be going with new floors vs. refinishing (it's actually cheaper that way--refinishing can cost an average of $5/sq. ft. and is a task we'd contract out, whereas our bamboo and cork cost, respectively, $2 and $3/sq. ft., and is a task we'd tackle on our own).

And there's repainting; not necessarily a task done for the benefit of the papillons, per se, but something we want (and in the case of the pink princess rooms, need for our own sanity).  And let's not forget the many small details that need to be addressed with any new home.

I can't wait to get back from my last business trip of the year and get to work!  Beth's already hard at painting prep and painting itself for the basement, and there's so much carpentry I have to get to, too.

Chateau Papillon!

Deux Papillons--C'est Tres Adorable!

Having previously shared my "Papillon Gothic" photo of Didi, I wanted to follow-up with a photo of our other Papillon, Chance aka Chançois aka Poop, with a little bit of backstory to explain his scatalogical nickname.




Chance is technically my wife Beth's Papillon (Didi being mine); she adopted her "little bundle of poo" after being won over to the breed by Didi. As to Chance's nickname... well, so far, he's lived up to it while sleeping in my sister's bed, in my wife's shoes, and, worst of all, in the captain's chair on the bridge of the Exerda (yes, he pooped in my office chair!)

Lest Didi feel left out, here's a photo of the precious puppy herself, "celebrating" being such a cute Papillon. (Didi will perform said trick on the command "celebrate" or with the appropriate hand signals--a perfect example of adding a signal to a pre-existing behavior.)

Didi's and Chance's photos here won for the "Cutest Bitch" and "Cutest Dog," respectively, in the United Papillon and Phalene Association's online dog show. Chance and Didi may not be eligible to compete in conformance events (aka dog shows), but at least they can be champions of cuteness!

I took the photos in our living room, with a sheet hastily hung on the wall behind them (hence the many folds--I should have dragged out the iron!), atop our dining room table with a soft throw placed atop it. I experimented a lot with the lighting, using a Canon 580 EX II atop my camera with a 420 EX slaved to it from the side (hence the light cast evident to the right in Didi's portrait) and aimed to break up the shadows cast onto the sheet behind them. One of these days, I'll pick up some real studio lights, but I think my setup worked fairly well--don't you?

Papillon Gothic

Darth Deedlit the Devious, aka Didi, is going to be incredibly displeased by our impending move back into an apartment while we work out a proper home purchase (more to come on this soon)--largely because she absolutely loves the back yard.

For some reason, this photo of Didi calls to mind for me the iconic Grant Wood painting, American Gothic, and thus I've titled it "Papillon Gothic." I guess there's something of Munch's The Scream to the image, too, though only in passing--and besides, that's a much less-pleasant comparison for a little Papillon.

It's certainly one of my favorite portraits of Didi (and believe me, there are quite a few from which to choose), and though far from unbiased, my wife Beth calls it her "favorite photograph, ever!"

I'll be sharing more photos--particularly of Didi and her half-brother Chançois, aka "Poop"--in the days to come.

Anyway, I thought I'd share it as a swan song of sorts, a requiem for the good times we spent at the Vienna home. I know Didi will be quite in mourning for the yard and her romps across it chasing her ball.