Going local: Eastern Market

A week ago Saturday I visited Eastern Market with friend Amanda. Eastern Market is located in the upper-left corner of Southeast Washington, DC, not far from the Capitol. It's easily accessible by rail--it has its own Metro stop on the Blue/Orange line--or by car. Just park on the street in the surrounding neighborhood.

Unlike the other markets reviewed thus far, Eastern Market is open more than just one day a week, and it's much more than a farmers' market. The farmers' portion, plus the arts & crafts and flea markets are open on Saturdays and Sundays (farmers' market: 7 am to 4 pm, arts & crafts and flea markets: 9 am to 6 pm). There's also an indoor area known as the South Hall, open Tuesday through Sunday (Tuesday-Friday: 7 am to 7 pm, Saturday 7 am to 6 pm, Sunday 9 am to 5 pm). There. Logistics out of the way.

Now to the meat of the matter. A visit to Eastern Market, as you may have guessed, is much more than a visit to a farmers' market. If you go there and all you do is buy a sack of apples, you've missed the boat.

The first thing I do at Eastern Market is enter the South Hall and eat at Market Lunch. In spite of the name, my last visit here was the first time I'd actually ordered a midday meal. Usually I would go in the morning, but this particular Saturday I was looking to fill the afternoon. I ordered the crab cake sandwich with a side of collard greens. The sandwich was very good (not as amazing as the girl in front of us in line would have had me believe), and I liked the collard greens, but I could have used half the portion they gave me. Breakfast is really where Market Lunch shines. I especially recommend the blue bucks (blueberry buckwheat pancakes) or the French toast (paying extra for the pecan topping is a must). The fellow who works the counter is sassy in a way that keeps you coming back, the service is fast, and the prices are more than reasonable. And on any given Saturday morning, you're going to see Mormons standing in line with you. The rest of the South Hall is home to butchers, fishmongers, and bakers who sell high-quality, fresh products.

Next on my list of stops is Capitol Hill Books. Not technically part of Eastern Market, the used bookstore is located right across the street to the south of the old South Hall (the original brick South Hall building suffered an electrical fire last year; it is currently under renovation and should reopen next summer). Capitol Hill Books is probably the folksiest, most mom-and-pop-type operation I've ever seen. What's more, it pulls it off without feeling forced. I would be surprised if I found out the proprietors ever said, "Hey. Let's figure out how we can be more folksy around here." The ambiance is achieved naturally.

The view from the front window is indicative of the interior as a whole--stacks and stacks of books, not necessarily on shelves (look at the staircase). The store is organized in a patchwork manner, with genres assigned to general areas (fiction, mystery, poetry, and music upstairs; sci-fi and gardening in the basement; nonfiction main level), and subgenres posted on the shelves with helpful notecards. The notecards are spread throughout the store, wherever they might be helpful in your careful search for a particular author or title. "John Gardner on floor behind Hesse." "Gabriel García Márquez located under García." "M-R goes down and across (Arrows may help)."

A friend of mine refers to Capitol Hill Books (really one of her favorite haunts) as "the socialist bookstore;" she's sure that the owners and employees are teetering off the left-hand side of the political spectrum. I couldn't really say; I've never been indoctrinated or even engaged in any kind of political conversation. The gentleman seated at the checkout counter usually just makes humorous and good-natured comments about your purchases. Once he went so far as to quote an entire Yeats poem to Amanda. She melted into a puddle, but she remained a moderate voter.

Stomach full of blue bucks, newly purchased used books in hand, I then return to the market and pick up produce. The vendors line the sidwalk that runs on the east side of the old South Hall. Most of the vendors sell vegetables or fruits, though there is a regular table that offers homemade salsa and dips--both as samples and as packaged wares. The produce is good, nothing notable about the quality, though I did discover a handy feature at one of the vegetable stands during this last visit. The seller packaged small varieties of veggies together into food storage bags and sold them as a bunch for three dollars each. I got a bag with red potatoes, green beans, and a little bit of broccoli. A good deal for what you pay. I also walked further down the line and picked up some Nittany apples (my new fall favorite).

Finally, there are the flea market and the arts and crafts portions of the market. The flea market is located to the south of the temporary South Hall, and it's filled with all sorts of wonders: rugs, trunks, statuettes, jewelry, scarves, handbags, and so on. The arts and crafts booths are set up on the sidewalk opposite the farmers' market sidewalk, and also on the patio north of the old South Hall. Jewelers, potters, painters, photographers, and others show their handiwork. Even if you're not in the market for anything from here, it's always worth it to peruse. Some of the vendors are quite talented--Dan Kessler, whose work has been commissioned by the White House, is there every Saturday.

Eastern Market, as a farmers' market, is not a place I would regularly frequent. The produce is decent, but not spectacular, and the commute into DC takes much longer than a jaunt over to Arlington or a walk to Del Ray. But combining the farmers' market with the prospect of delicious breakfast and used books and local culture adds an allure that keeps me coming back.

Going local: Old Town Farmers' Market

Several weeks after my visit*, my review:

The Old Town Farmers' Market is situated on the fountain plaza next to City Hall, at the intersection of King Street and Royal, right in the liver of Old Town (I really think the heart of Old Town is the waterfront at the end of King Street and the Torpedo Factory--King and Royal is close, though). It's the earliest starter of all the markets I've reviewed so far; it opens at 5:30 and shuts down at 10:30. Like the Arlington Farmers' Market, Old Town is open year-round, availability of fresh produce notwithstanding.

It probably has the largest area out of the markets I've reviewed as well. In spite of the large fountain in the middle, Market Square has a lot of space, and the vendors sprawl across it. The large area provides for a wider variety of wares than I've seen in other places. Beyond the traditional produce, meat, dairy, and baked goods, crafts peddlers and florists dot the rows of booths. This is good for those looking for more than just food offerings. Bad for those creeped out by severed doll heads used as mounts.

Questionable display choices aside, I also haven't been as impressed with the quality of produce I've picked up in Old Town. Mealy apples, fresh cider that tastes like it's from concentrate--not up to par with Del Ray or Arlington, in my opinion. To be fair, I've shopped those other markets much more frequently than I've shopped Old Town. I shouldn't judge from this past experience; I may have picked a lesser vendor or just gone on a bad week.

The best thing Old Town does have going for it is its location. Like the Del Ray and Arlington markets, it's situated in the middle of a bustling area well known for its shops, haunts, and restaurants. At the Old Town Farmers' Market, you're within walking distance of the waterfront (the heart), several good restaurants, and a few notable historical sites (such as the Alexandria Courthouse and the John Carlyle House). It also has the feeling of community that exists at the other markets, only it's the Old Town community as opposed to the Arlington or Del Ray communities. Choosing a market out of the three to visit based on the neighborhood depends, then, on what you're in the mood for. Old Town is definitely more full of tourists. Arlington's Courthouse/Clarendon area is a target spot for yuppies, while Del Ray attracts former hippies, indie hipsters, and yuppies who are pretending to be hipsters.

Overall, I prefer the Arlington and Del Ray markets to the Old Town offering.

This past Saturday I also visited Eastern Market and took some pictures. I hope to have that review up by the end of the week.

*Special thanks to special guests who accompanied me for my site visit: Amanda, KE, and especially Katherine, who loaned me her camera and emailed me the pictures for this post (I forgot my camera at home).

Jared needs...

A friend of mine blogged about the virtue of googling the phrase "________ needs," with the blank filled by your name. The results can be quite humorous. For example, here are my top five:

1. Jared needs to go!
2. Jared needs to lay the smack down on these guys...
3. Jared needs your support.
4. Jared needs his own Backyard FX Show.
5. Jared needs to DIE!

Apparently the fellow from the sub shop who sullied my good name is not a popular guy on the interwebs.

Anyway, try it yourself for hilarity and jest.

Post results in the comments or on your own blog...

Going local: Del Ray Farmers' Market

Two months later, here is my review of the Del Ray Farmers' Market.

The best thing about this market, to me, is that it's a five-minute walk from my house. Located across the street from the Dairy Godmother in the heart of Del Ray, the market is actually pedestrian-friendly for a lot of local residents. The parking situation is a little worse than Arlington's (the market in Del Ray actually covers the only parking lot in the vicinity), but that is not an issue if you arrive on foot and carry out your produce. For those who might drive, there is usually some street parking not too far away. For those walking with dogs, you'll have to tie them up on the fringe of the market--no dogs allowed inside.

At first glance, the market seems much smaller than its Arlington counterpart. The parking lot it covers isn't really all that big, and staring across the street it looks like the number of vendors that can be crammed in under the few tents ought to be pretty limited. But after going to the market a few times and going back to Arlington, I've decided that the number of vendors at Del Ray can't be that much lower. Even if it is, the Del Ray market carries a competitive amount of variety and quantity in its offerings.

The vendors at Del Ray sell produce as tasty and fresh as those at Arlington--especially notable are the tomatoes and peppers. Look around and you'll also find a variety of specialty products like jams, preserves, syrups, and vinegars. The central table-tent of the lot belongs to bakers who offer samples of breads, cookies, rolls, muffins, and cakes.

If anything suffers from the cutback in size, it's the variety of meat and dairy vendors available to shoppers. There is a good meat vendor that sells fresh eggs, and one or two dairy booths. My first week there I bought a container of maple syrup yogurt; it was good, but not as good as the Blue Ridge Dairy honey yogurt from the Arlington market.

For its size, though, the market is a great place to shop and it has the same friendly community feeling present in Arlington. The Del Ray community is famous for its small-town, mom-and-pop feel, and the farmers' market there fits right in.

You can shop the market on Saturdays from eight in the morning until noon. The market opens in the spring and stays open through the first Saturday in December--if you want to scrounge for produce in the winter you'll have to visit Arlington or the Old Town Farmers' Market.

Fringe benefits available to those who choose to patronize the Del Ray Farmers' Market include the Cheesetique (where the cheesemongers know everything there is to know about cheese!), Let's Meat on the Avenue (an old-fashioned butcher shop full of the freshest meats, run by an experienced Australian), and Tops of Old Town (not food, but the hats are cool and the proprietor is the sweetest lady you'll meet).

Going local: Arlington Farmers' Market

It has been spread abroad that white people love farmers' markets; I am no exception.

There are five farmers markets convenient to where I live in Alexandria: Arlington Farmers' Market, Del Ray Farmers' Market, Old Town Farmers' Market, Upper King Street Fresh Farmers' Market, and Eastern Market. It is my intention over the next three weeks to visit each of these in turn for the sake of comparison and contrast. If all goes as planned, I'll place a review of each of my market visits right here for your viewing pleasure.

I started this past Saturday with the Arlington Farmer's Market. Located next to the Arlington Courthouse, the market runs every Saturday from 9:00 am to 12:00 pm, and it appears to be open year-round, which is a plus.*

The market itself covers a fair-sized lot. The official website for the market claims to have thirty producers involved, but I don't know if they're claiming that all of them are present each week. Whether they are or not, there is certainly a large selection present, with multiple vendors to choose from for fruits, vegetables, breads, honeys, meats, dairy products, and flowers.

The last two times I've visited, I found the vendors quite friendly. They're willing to make change for a twenty and make recommendations regarding their produce, and they all seem very appreciative of your business. There's also a spirit of friendly cooperation and neighborliness among them--this surprised me a little, since I walked into the market assuming that two stands selling fresh vegetables would consider themselves at odds with each other.

I stopped at one particular stand that had a sign promising delicious and unique cherry tomatoes, tried one, and felt compelled to buy a pint. I already had a few tomatoes in a half-flat box that I had purchased from a vendor across the way, and as I payed for the cherry tomatoes the man at the cash box looked closely at them.

"Those don't look like our tomatoes"

"No, I bought them from one of your competitors over there."

"Oh, they're not our competitors," he grinned warmly. "We're all just neighbors here." Nevertheless, he did lean in closer and whisper, "Ours are better!" Then he chuckled.

The spirit of camaraderie extends to some degree to the patrons of the market as well. Everyone seems to be kind and deferential to one another. There's a sense of community--maybe it's the common interest in sustainable, local agriculture; maybe it's the smell of fresh basil and flowers that hovers in the air between stalls.

I've been quite pleased with all of my purchases from the market--particularly the colossal blackberries from Westmoreland Berry Farm and a batch of peaches I picked up from another stand this week. Those cherry tomatoes were pretty dynamite too. I'm also excited to finish off my store-bought yogurt soon so I can dive into the fresh honey yogurt I purchased from the booth run by Blue Ridge Dairy. The small spoonful I tasted promised a true, cultured yogurt flavor with just enough honey to soften the bite.

The two drawbacks to the market are the fact that it's about a ten-minute drive to get there (small drawback), and parking is fairly limited considering the popularity of the market (larger drawback). If you're lucky you can find street parking, but most patrons have to use a lot adjacent to the market. Cars are constantly moving up and down the lanes of the lot, searching for an empty spot or someone who is leaving. Once you finally park, each spot is metered. Make sure you have change on hand.
Overall, though, I've really enjoyed my experiences at the Arlington Farmers' Market. I recommend it to anyone who has the means to go on a Saturday morning and the desire for fresh, local produce.

*Many fruits and vegetables won't be available during the winter months, but it's nice to know that a market is still open during that time, offering whatever is available.

Barack Obama for Childlike Emperor

A friend shared a link with me where you can go to generate your own inspirational Barack Obama quotations.

I thought it was important for Mr. Obama to address the current state of affairs in Fantasia, as he runs against the Childlike Empress for her position this year:

Generate a Barack Obama Quote!

"I think it's time we had a national conversation about Fantasia. We need to get past all the Swamps of Sadness and recognize that we are our own best hope for overcoming the Nothing. We need Falkors, not G'morks. Falkors are our imagination. And we need to have change in Fantasia."
Generate your Barack Obama quote at Buttafly.com

He goes on:

Generate a Barack Obama Quote!

"These people haven't had imagination for fifty years. So you can't be surprised if they get bitter and cling to their Swamps of Sadness and their G'morks and their the Nothing. That's what my campaign is about. Teaching all the little people in this country that they can have Falkors."
Generate your Barack Obama quote at Buttafly.com

I believe in the audacity of imagination; I believe in a new Fantasia. This is change we can believe in.

Bored scribblings

I was just cleaning up my little officeoid (it's not a full office--it only has 3.2 walls), and I came across a few "notes" I had taken during two different meetings. The first set of notes was torn off of a steno-pad. I think it's from something I sat in on up at my client site:

--Bees can kill me, but they haven't yet

--Jenn and I think we inherited a cooking gene

--Jazz, rock 'n' roll

--Let's talk about what we think we're going to talk about talking about, but never actually talk about it.

The second set of notes is from a meeting at my office that some of our clients were invited to. Chuck "Malapropism" Dogberry of the clients bought pizza to try and seem like a cool guy, and the thing went on for about four hours. Around hour three I drafted a will onto one of the pizza napkins in case I should die of boredom or take my own life:

Last Will and Testament
To whom it may concern:
If you are reading this, I have been found dead with my eyes burned out by a laser pointer and the pen attached to that laser pointer jammed deep, deep into my jugular.
'Twas CAP [the client program I support] that brought me here, and 'twas CAP that drove me to this end.
To my brother The Shark I bequeath my music collection and my DVDs, except Matt can have "Firefly." Everything else I leave to Matt Sztuk and Michele, who will play Rock, Paper, Scissors to decide who gets what.
To Jamie [my supervisor at the time] I leave a kick in the shins.
[signature]
Jared Gillins
28 FEB 2008

These are some of the most productive meetings I've attended with my clients.

Posted just to have a link for a comment in Shark's blog

I just needed to be able to refer to this in a comment I'm leaving in The Zap! Pow! Zoom! Initiative.

The Far Side was created by Gary Larson, who also holds the copyright. This cartoon was posted not to curb the legal purchase of Far Side materials, but rather to utilize it as an example in an ongoing discussion about the nature and validity of comics as art. This cartoon will be removed upon request by Mr. Larson or his legal representatives.

Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might

OR Ecclesiastes 9: 10

Finished with finals, I find myself flat-furnished with a fullness of Free Time. Which begs the question: What to do?

I want to make sure that these summer months don't slip past me without a serious effort on my part to make the most of them. Last summer I did some good stuff--I spent Memorial Day weekend at the beach, ran a 10k, visited Utah twice, did some hiking, got heat exhaustion and had to have two bags of fluid pumped into me intravenously, read several books, and put on weight.

Here's what I've got so far for this summer:

• Exercise regularly to finish recuperating my knee and lose the weight from last summer
• Read several more books
• Plant a garden (or at least plant the pots and boxes in my back yard)
• Play the guitar every day
• Blog weekly

• Fine-tune the papers I wrote for my creative nonfiction writing class--have at least one ready to be submitted for publication by the end of the summer
• Bike the many trails around here--including the length of the Mt. Vernon Trail
• Get out of the metropolitan area and do some hiking
• See at least two 80s musical legends in concert (here I come, Yaz and George Michael!)

• Continue to hone my grilling skills; allow friends to enjoy the meaty fruits
• Visit Polyface Farms in southern Virginia
• Find the Darth Vader gargoyle on the National Cathedral
• Learn to use my cool camera better

Those are a few ideas, anyway. I'm open to suggestions. Anyone? Anyone?

Sunday I was eloquent

I show no bravery of shining gems.
Truth, Independence, are my fluttering plumes.
'Tis not my form I lace to make me slim,
But brace my soul with efforts as with stays,
Covered with exploits, not with ribbon-knots,
My spirit bristling high like your mustaches,
I, traversing the crowds and chattering groups
Make Truth ring bravely out like clash of spurs!

-Edmund Rosamund, Cyrano de Bergerac, Act I, scene iv

I read Cyrano de Bergerac during the second semester of my sophomore year at high school. I remember being enthralled with the play--I couldn't get enough of the language. The title character's wit and ease with which he used words spoke to my young fancy and germinated an early desire to be... eloquent. That was the word I remember coming up with. Cyrano was eloquent. I would be eloquent too.

I may have told a few people about that desire shortly after it was espoused, but mostly I kept it to myself.

----

On Sunday this week, after speaking in sacrament meeting on friendship, fellowship, and regional activities, I was approached after services. A friend pulled me aside and told me plainly that she thought I was eloquent in my talk. Eloquent! It was the first time anyone had used that word to compliment me. Perhaps I am on my way.

Calling all ska fans!

I'm writing a paper on ska and its fans, and I created a little survey to help me collect some data. If you are a fan of ska (and only if you consider yourself such a fan), please click on the link and take the survey. It's pretty short--should really only take you five minutes or so. Thanks!

Click Here to take survey

The appeal of the blues

OR "I sing the body electric"

My first plan for today after work is to drive to Borders, pick up the Muddy Waters Anthology, and then proceed to bury myself in a dead black man's sorrows. This became part of my schedule after I woke up this morning with the blues.

I was feeling fairly rotten so I put on Eric Clapton's From the Cradle for the drive to work. Oddly enough, belting out "Blues Before Sunrise" along with Slowhand elevated my mood a bit. Each track made me feel a little better and then better, until the guitar solo on the bridge of "Five Long Years" (track 5) made me almost giddy.

So what is it about the blues that can take my cares away? It almost seems counter-intuitive, like it should have the opposite effect. Listening to a man moan about his broken body, destitute lifestyle, and cheating woman isn't really a pick-me-up. Listening to a woman pour out her sorrows over the man who left her for a better gal doesn't exactly make one think of better times. Or does it?

On the first episode of Ken Burns' Jazz, Branford Marsalis points out that to sing or hear the blues is to cathartically embrace the fact that life is full of problems and troubles. The blues, then, are there to "free" the singer and the listener. It frees them from the burden of pretending that everything's just fine all the time.

The blues are also intended to lift people--show them that they may have it bad, but it could be worse. Blues are often hyperbolic in their descriptions of suffering. Back to From the Cradle--in the song "Third Degree" Clapton sings verse after verse on the crimes and misdemeanors his woman has him accused of. Then, giving the reasons why each of those claims must be false, he slowly paints the portrait of a blind, lame, illiterate, broke, and possibly impotent man, whom bad luck is simply killing. Nobody is that bad off--and maybe that's what the blues listener realizes as he hears the guttural moans and weeping, wailing guitar.

I think that that guitar is also key. I mentioned that Clapton's solo on track 5 picked me up further than anything else on the album had thus far. I think that part of the power of the blues is its ability to transform emotional energy into music. You could probably make this argument with several other genres, but I contend that the blues is especially good at it. To play the blues you have to have "soul," which is to say you have to know how to express your soul through your instrument and voice. Human beings are vessels. Some of these vessels carry music, and only a portion of these musical vessels know how to pour out their contents. Fingers and throats become conduits, larynges and guitars become universal translators that communicate aurally what was previously stored internally. And for some reason, when that human musical message comes out in the blues, it speaks directly to the blues listener.

Reading back over what I just wrote, I don't know if I actually explained anything. But in the end it doesn't really matter, because either way the blues have made me feel better.

On random bits

So I guess I have a few random thoughts to throw out there and try to hash out. Feel free to help, those of you who have not given up on my blog:

THOUGHT THE FIRST: I have a silly e-crush on some blogger named editorgirl. Apparently a friend of Amanda's, she has a nice blog with a creative name and interesting and regular posts. In my estimation, she's an attractive writer--that is to say, she writes attractively. Whatever that means. Silly e-crush.

THOUGHT THE SECOND: My friend Erin asked me last night how much longer I have in my MA program here at George Mason. Usually when people ask that, I give a nebulous answer akin to the Israelite "40 years" approximation. But I actually thought it out last night and realized that if I keep my current pace, I have five more semesters, including the Spring 2008 semester that starts in January. So that's two and a half more years. If I take one course during the summer for the rest of my MA program, that eliminates one semester, making it an even two years left. That would make for a grand total of three years in the MA history program at GMU. I can manage that.

But what next? Perhaps I'm a little ahead of myself, but I've been thinking already about where to go for my Ph.D. I'm assuming, first of all, that two more years of juggling full-time work with part-time school won't make me swear off academia forever. I'm assuming that I'll have been wise in those two years and saved and invested enough to be able to plausibly quit my job and be a full-time doctoral candidate. And I'm assuming that Ph.D programs will want me.

Just to throw this out there (that's what this post is all about, after all), I think that the ideal place for me right now is Rutgers University's American Studies Ph.D program. It'll be just like a history program, really, with the path I would take. And Rutgers Newark has, get this, the Institute of Jazz Studies, which, according to their website, is "the largest and most comprehensive library and archive of jazz and jazz-related materials in the world." Guh.

So I'd do a doctorate in American Studies where I could interdiscipline myself in 20th century American history with some cultural and musical studies. Throw in a little early-to-mid-20th century literature, and I'd be golden. You could all call me Doctor Jazz.

THOUGHT THE THIRD: I finally got my license plates last night from the dealership up in Silver Spring. I didn't know they weren't going to let me choose my license plate design. I mean, I didn't want to spell anything fancy or anything like that, but they gave me the plain old white plates, when I would have prefered the ship. The ship!

So anyway, the real issue here is a matter of obsessive compulsion. When I was a lad, my mom and I would play a game where we'd make words out of the letters on license plates of other cars on the road. The only rule was that you had to maintain the order of the letters. You got extra points if you could find two words: one that started with the initial letter in the series, and one where the initial letter was not the first letter of the word. For example, if the letters on the plate were HTL, you would say "hotel" and then "shuttle" for the bonus.

My license plate letters are KFF. I'm having some trouble making words. The best I've come up with so far is "kickoff," but you all know I'm not really a football fan.

Moments in Toast History

Orville Wright had a penchant for our favorite means of preparing and consuming bread:

Fond of toast, he developed two special implements to guarantee a perfect product every time: a gauge to ensure that each slice of bread was cut to a precise thickness, and a toaster, constructed of two sheets of metal, to compress each slice as it was toasting (Tom Crouch, The Bishop's Boys: A Life of Wilbur and Orville Wright, 479).

Just thought you'd like to know.

Where is Jared?

If any of you have tried to email me, or tried to call me between the hours of 7:00am and 7:00pm EDT, you may have noticed that I'm simply not there. Where am I?

Once a year the client I work for, the Naval Treaty Implementation Program (NTIP), carries out a Challenge Inspection Training Exercise (CITE). For those interested in international law and arms control regimes, read the next few paragraphs and find out what a CITE is. For those of you already bored, skip a bit.

The 1997 Chemical Weapons Convention (CWC) prohibits the production, development, stockpiling, or use of any and all chemical weapons, and the United States happens to be a party to the treaty. Being a party isn't a huge deal for a lot of nations, but it is for the USA. The Cold War arms race wasn't just about stockpiling nukes; the USSR spent a lot of money developing and stockpiling chemical munitions as well, and we followed suit. Now the USA and Russia literally have tons of chemical weapons to destroy, and we have until 2012 to do it (neither country will make the deadline, by the way).

The U.S. Army is in charge of properly storing and destroying all of the United States' chemical weapons. The Organisation for the Prohibition of Chemical Weapons (OPCW), an international body created by the CWC, takes charge of verifying the proper storage and disposal of the agents. So really, the Department of the Navy should have nothing to do with this.

However! The CWC contains a provision allowing for challenge inspections. A challenge inspection is the result of one state suspecting another state of not abiding by the rules of the treaty. For example, Belarus could accuse the United States of hiding undeclared CW agents in unused bunkers at Marine Corps Base Hawaii, Kaneohe Bay. Or Senegal could accuse the Navy of developing chemical weapons under the guise of defense research at Naval Surface Warfare Center, Dahlgren Division (NSWCDD).

As of yet, there have been no challenge inspections under the CWC. Every state that could initiate one can also be relatively sure of a reciprocal challenge from the state they accuse. But if there were to be a challenge inspection, Russia and the United States would be the two most likely candidates.

So we practice, we exercise. And that's what I'll be doing this week. Many of the employees of my company and most of the government workers at my client site will be staying four nights at the luxurious Dahlgren Comfort Inn, right next to NSWCDD. There I will spend several humid days pretending like I'm helping prepare the base for a challenge inspection carried out by the OPCW and the fictitious Republic of Simón Bolívar, our accuser. Most of my days will last 10-12 hours, after which I will eat dinner at any number of fine local restaurants (from Uncle Dave's Somethin' Different Café to the appetizingly named Crabby Oyster). I'll be back Thursday night, at which time I will regain email access.

In the meantime, do feel free to drop me an e-line or to comment on the blog. I'll let you know how everything went on my return.

Constant vigilance!

Is Congress causing global warming on purpose?!?

In light of Warren's recent exploits into the field of global warming, I thought that this editorial was particularly exigent. Read and wonder:

And I post again

I have a little black book

I post! I post!

Many of you have been wondering if I would ever post again. Some of you may think that I purposely put off posting to prove a point. Some of you may even think that I simply don’t care any more. Not so! I post!

It seems that my previous musings on not making time for writing inspired my friend Nick, administrator of Salsa Night (the other blog I contribute to), to be a more frequent writer himself. More than that, he invited others to join him in a month-long effort to write something at least once a week for the month of April. Thus began the Salsa Night Month of Writing.

I claimed Mondays and I’ve been posting regularly all month. It only recently occurred to me that I should mention it here.

So if you miss me, or my writing, or if you’re simply bored, feel free to check out any of my posts:

I work best under pressure

Goals, planning, and Free Time

Sounds often heard at my client site

And while you’re there, feel free to peruse around. There’s some good stuff to be found.

Why Don't I Write (more)?

A monthly post is better than no post at all, right?

Let me tell you: I enjoy writing. That is to say, I enjoy writing the type of writing that I like to write. Some writing I don't like: quantitative analysis, filler for meeting page requirements, dry topics that don't interest me and that I can't imagine would interest anyone else, quantitative analysis, and quantitative analysis (to name a few types).

But some writing is fun. I like to tell a good story. I like to be excited about a good qualitative analysis I've done and then describe it succinctly. I like to rant sometimes, and occassionally to rave (sans ecstasy and glow sticks). Writing can be cathartic. Writing can make me learn more about a topic that I love. Writing can help me express myself. It keeps me connected to my friends. It broadens my views. It makes me happy when I feel I've done it well.

So why don't I write more? Why isn't this blog updated more often? Why hasn't "A Piece of Poetry" become a regular feature, as I imagined it would?

This post is incomplete because I don't have an answer for that. I have several partial answers, but none of them really address the bigger question from which "Why Don't I Write?" stems: what keeps me from making time for some of the things that I like? If writing (or anything) is important to me, what keeps me from it? Or why do I keep myself from it?

Feel free to wax philosophical. I await your wisdom.

Free Jared! And Tibet if you’ve got the time

Today, tomorrow, and Monday I am bound to a desk that is not my own. Part of my company’s contract with the Naval Treaty Implementation Program (NTIP) is to have an on-site contractor that remains, well, on-site. The man with this job is named Darnell, and he knows the ropes quite well. But what happens when Darnell takes leave?

Rather than go for one or two or, heaven forbid, three days without Johnny on the Spot, our liaison at NTIP insists on having someone fill Darnell’s chair. And fill his chair I can.

Unfortunately, I can’t do most of the other things associated with this particular job. Darnell has access to many things that required a lot of processing and account-making and approval. NTIP doesn’t want to bother with all of that for a guy who will only be here for three days, so I basically have a mouse, a keyboard, and a screen. The internet works (hooray!) but I have no email access, either business OR personal (boo). Nearly all of my business correspondence has to happen over the phone. Not that that’s inconvenient, it’s just not SOP.

Where is this all leading? To this point: I have nothing to do. I’m supposed to be performing Darnell’s duties, but I don’t have Darnell’s tools and resources. There are a few things that I can do, and do have access to. If I look hard I can find things to keep myself busy. But guess why I’m writing this post—I’ve already done them. I’m actually quite proud; I kept myself busy for four hours this morning. And now? I have a couple of things that I can look at, but nothing I can do. Thus I blog.

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