replete – Life In A Word

Fruit of the Bloom

On Monday I noticed a lot of the wearing o’ the green because, of course, Americans celebrate St. Patrick’s Day as if we are somehow Irish. It’s a fitting burst of color as winter slowly but inevitably surrenders the seasonal baton. Soon you’ll find a full-on rainbow of blooms in every garden you pass. For now however, let’s drink and dance in honor of another bright color this week: pink. More to today’s topic, cherry pink.

If you’re tuning in from Washington D.C. you already know where I’m going with this one. Today is the first day of spring, and the beginning of the Cherry Blossom Festival in our nation’s capital: four weeks of seemingly countless opportunities to celebrate the flowering of the graceful trees on the banks of the Potomac. If you’d asked me a week ago what the bloomin’ fuss is all about, I’d have said the festival’s significance is as shallow as the water in the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool. But now I’m properly informed. There’s more to this story than just pretty in pink.

In the early 1900s, America and Japan were unconditionally friendly countries (years before that little dust-up in the 1940s). To acknowledge the friendship, Tokyo’s mayor shipped 3,000 Japanese cherry trees to Washington D. C. There’s a longer, more convoluted history behind this gesture, including players from both countries making repeated efforts to populate the city with trees, but the details are about as interesting as pushing a bill through Congress. Suffice it to say cherry trees were planted along the river, up and down the avenues, and in numbers worthy of an annual festival starting in the 1930s.

I love cherries; always have. I think the flavor itself appealed to me before the fruit, in the popular junk food of the 1970s. Hostess Fruit Pies. Life Savers. Slurpees from 7-11. Or the proverbial maraschino on top of an ice cream sundae. As much as I got my fill of those, I could never get my fill of my mother’s homemade cherry pie, and I mean homemade. The cherries were passed down from her mother each year, picked, jarred, and ready to go. The crust was made from scratch, including the signature latticework on top. It’s a wonder the butter wasn’t churned from the milk of a family cow.

It’s also a wonder I’ve never been to D.C.’s Blossom Festival, considering my unabashed affection for the fruit. I’m sure I’d find a couple dozen new ways to enjoy cherries besides the usuals. I’d happily scarf down a serving of flambéed Cherries Jubilee over ice cream, or the cherry-filled sponge cake of a Black Forest gateau. For the more adventurous there’s a savory Hungarian soup made with sour cherries.

Of course, there’s a lot more to the Blossom Festival than just food. You’ll find parades, concerts, and kite-flying, with every shade of pink you can imagine. Tour the historic Anderson House, filled with art and floral displays (featuring the cherry blossom, of course). Compete in a “Petals and Paddles” boat race across the tidal basin surrounded by the trees. Or get wet in “Pink in the Pool”, a family-friendly swim party replete with colorful beach balls. There’s even an “Opening Ceremony” event on the first Saturday, (already sold out by the time I checked the website). The weeks-long agenda proudly declares “events are primarily free” but I beg to differ. Tickets to the first several on the list were decidedly pricey.

For all I’ve just written, it’s a wonder the word “cherry” appears less than ten times in the hundreds of posts I’ve published on Life In A Word. One time I referred to the children’s game “Hi Ho! Cherry-O”. Another I talked about Cherry Coke. The rest were the same things I mention here – ice cream sundaes, Slurpees, and so on. So let’s add the Blossom Festival to the list, shall we? With four weeks of celebrating, it’s safe to say life is a lot more than just a bowl of cherries.

LEGO Notre-Dame de Paris – Update #9

(Read about the start of this “church service” in Highest Chair)

What was once a giant box of LEGO pieces is finally starting to resemble a cathedral! Bags 15 and 16… of 34 bags of pieces, focused entirely on the body (nave) of the structure. We’re now building in the years 1220-1225, when the walls of the nave rise to the same height as the semicircular chancel at the east end.

The parishioners look rather tiny, now that we’re working so far above them. And notice all those free-standing columns from last week aren’t so free-standing anymore. We’ve capped them with structural elements to support what is still to be built up above. Also notice we’ve closed in the west end of the cathedral, which patiently awaits the addition of the soaring bell towers.

Okay, it’s time to address the elephant in the room; an elephant that gets bigger with every update. A few of you have sounded the alarm on my running count of leftover pieces. It’s a fair concern, considering the LEGO Grand Piano also started as thousands of pieces but only amounted to a handful of extras.

Here’s the truth of it: the twenty-six leftovers shown here amount to just a handful as well. Every one of them is among the tiniest pieces in the entire cathedral. It probably cost LEGO pennies to add in these “bench players”. And given the tendency of pieces to run away I’m grateful to have them. Heck, by the time the cathedral is finished maybe I’ll have enough leftovers to build a small elephant.

Running build time: 7 hrs. 57 min.

Total leftover pieces: 26

Some content sourced from the National Cherry Blossom Festival website, and Wikipedia, “the free encyclopedia”.

Pride, Pomp, and Circumstance

I managed to get through high school literature class without having to wrestle with Shakespeare, not even once. To me, Romeo and Juliet are simply characters from a movie I’ve never seen. Hamlet is another name for a small village. Othello is a board game I played as a teenager. But hey, maybe I should be a fan of Shakespeare. After all, he gets the credit for penning the phrase “pomp and circumstance”.

It’s true – “Pride, pomp, and circumstance (of glorious war!)” is a line from Shakespeare’s play Othello, written way back in 1603. Somewhere in the hundreds of years since, “Pomp and circumstance” became the name of the musical march we all associate with graduation ceremonies. But for today’s purposes, pomp and circumstance (or “P&C” if you will) means “formal and impressive ceremonies or activities”. And Monday’s presidential inauguration ceremony was the perfect example of that.

I am a big fan of American P&C. Without it the inauguration ceremony would’ve been nothing but mundane repeat-after-me oaths. With it you get your heart fill-er-upped with pride. Monday’s ceremony was replete with red, white, and blue decor. American flags were everywhere. The guests of honor were escorted to their seats by men and women in splendid uniforms. The cannons nearby boomed over and over when the oaths were completed. And for my American dollars, nothing says pomp and circumstance like those patriotic anthems.

Having spent most of my years in Colorado Springs, “America the Beautiful” is close to my heart because its lyrics were born from the top of nearby Pikes Peak. All credit to Carrie Underwood for her performance of its first verse on Monday, enduring technical difficulties to sing a cappella. Then there was the charismatic Rev. Lorenzo Sewell, embellishing his prayer of gratitude with the opening lines of “My Country Tis of Thee”. And you’d be forgiven for shedding a tear during the soaring “Battle Hymn of the Republic”, belted out by the men and women of the U.S. Naval Academy Glee Club (and earning a standing ovation).

But I’m forgetting one more anthem. Or should I say, I can’t forget the one more. Yes, Christopher Dean Macchio (“America’s tenor”) sang “The Star Spangled Banner” to close out the inauguration ceremony, but he also performed another anthem to kick things off and I’m still humming it today. Why, I ask myself, have I never heard “O, America” before?

“O, America” – go figure – was written by an Irishman. Brendan Graham penned the lyrics into a big hit for the group “Celtic Woman”. You’d think the words would be from the perspective of someone overseas but “O, America” is clearly about someone here… and someone now. Have a listen and I think you’ll agree. In the words of Othello, “O, America” is all about “pride, pomp, and circumstance”. This week I am filled with all three.

LEGO Notre-Dame de Paris – Update #2

(read about the start of this “church service” in Highest Chair)

I’m glad I remembered my antiperspirant today. Bags 2 and 3 – of 34 bags of pieces – encouraged sweat, tested patience, and made me realize my fingers are anything but nimble. My hands are still shaking after the hour and change it took to build this section.

We started by tiling the cathedral floor. Look closely – those black and white pieces aren’t all the same shape or orientation. I installed one wrong and almost needed pliers to get it back out. Imagine if you made the same mistake on the floor of the real Notre-Dame. You’d get fired for wasting priceless marble!

Having said that, the floor was just a warm up for the colonnade that now rises up around the altar. It is made from tiny, tiny pieces! I think LEGO should invent special gloves that a) allow you to easily grasp these little guys while b) protecting your fingers from their sharp edges. Pressing them into place again and again can be painful! Those beige column supports you see on the tile floor left little round dents in my fingertips.

Finally, notice the repetitive structure of the colonnade, like a circle of rocket ships ready to launch. LEGO shows you how to build one of these vertical elements (each one is about twenty pieces) and then goes, “Okay Dave, do that fourteen more times”. The Grand Piano was also tough but I wouldn’t say it was repetitive. Notre-Dame de Paris has found a new way to test my patience.

Running build time: 1 hour 37 min.

Total leftover pieces: 5

Some content sourced from the Irish Central article, “Irishman’s song ‘O America’ performed at Trump’s inauguration”, and Wikipedia, “the free encyclopedia”.

Not-So-Sweet Jesus

If you take a stroll down your supermarket’s greeting card aisle today, you’ll find Valentine’s Day cards long gone and Easter cards in full force. It’s only the start of Lent, yet the aisle is bursting bright with pink bunnies, yellow chicks, and painted eggs. I won’t be sending Easter cards this year (haven’t done so since my kids were little) but I will give up something for Lent. I’m thinking “foods with added sugar”.

I know what you’re thinking. We live in an age where giving up tempting foods isn’t as difficult as it used to be. Whole foods are so available we have an entire chain of stores called “Whole Foods”. Sugar has so many alternatives I should revise my sacrifice to “foods with added sweeteners“. Even processed foods have matured to where “healthy snacks” are pleasing to the palate. I have options.

Doesn’t matter. Dropping added sugar will still be a challenge. My desk drawer (second one down on the left if you’d like to help yourself) is replete with black and red licorice, and some form of chocolate, be it a bar, a cookie, or those little baking morsels straight out of the bag. Giving up licorice for forty-six days and nights won’t be a stretch, but NO chocolate for all of March and half of April sounds like an eternity. What can I say? Everyone has a weakness and mine is chocolate. It speaks to me from my closed drawer with “come hither” seductiveness.

I’ll bet you’ll find thousands of blog posts about chocolate with a quick search. I’ll bet you’ll find entire blogs about the sweet stuff. I just checked my blog’s history and unearthed a dozen takes on chocolate (including this one from a year ago talking about the things people give up for Lent. Chocolate tops the list). So let’s make it a baker’s dozen because I invented a chocolate challenge. I call it the “85 Percent Ascent”.

Let me explain. There was a time when I liked my coffee sweeter than a Starbucks Sugar Cookie Frappuccino. Together with artificial creamer I’d dump in sugar cubes or pour the white stuff straight from whatever you call those pourable glass containers. That was a long, long time ago. At some point (probably, er definitely my college year abroad in Italy) I realized coffee tasted pretty good all by itself. I started to wonder why you’d “taint” coffee by adding the other stuff. But let’s be real: it’s not like you go from Frappuccino to Americano cold turkey. You’ve got to ease into the one extreme from the other. Slowly I backed down the sugar (like years-slowly). Slowly I backed down the creamer. One day I eliminated the sugar altogether. Today, I still go with a tablespoon of (almond-coconut non-dairy no-sugar) “creamer” but otherwise it’s straight dark-roasted coffee for me. I even fancy an espresso shot every now and then.

It’s a good analogy for my Percent Ascent challenge. 85% cocoa content is seriously dark chocolate (meaning not sweet at all). If your go-to is a Hershey’s Bar or a Milky Way you’re down below 50%. And moving from 50% to 85% is a serious ascent with chocolate. It’s like standing on top of Kilimanjaro and seeing how much further you have to go to summit Everest.

A recent article on chocolate lists nine criteria for the healthiest and best-tasting bars in the world, including:

The first ingredient must be cocoa, cocoa mass, or chocolate liquor (not sugar or milk chocolate). In other words, put down the Nestle’s Crunch; it’s not even close.
Ingredients must include real cocoa butter instead of (cheaper) vegetable oils. 95% of America’s chocolate manufacturers just dropped out of the race.
The cocoa must come from an “Equator country” like Ivory Coast, Ghana, or Peru.
The bar should be labeled “Organic” and/or “Non-GMO”.
Bonus points: should be fairly traded and ethically harvested.

As if the search isn’t already difficult, NOW you have to go with >85% cocoa content. Not so hard to find actually, especially if you go online. I purchased a bar from five different manufacturers meeting every one of the above criteria, including Green & Black’s from the UK, and Theo from Seattle. All five bars fall between 85% and 90% cocoa content (and yes, 100% is an option). All five use scary words like “strong”, “super black”, and “extreme” to describe their product. Not gonna lie; I’m a little nervous to take a bite.

As bitter as these chocolates are sure to be, I still have to give them up for Lent. Every one of them has “added sugar” (albeit way down on the ingredients list). So let’s just agree – I’m not going to break my Lenten covenant on a food that doesn’t even taste sweet. Think I’ll opt for a piece of fruit instead. I just hope it doesn’t come from the Garden of Eden.

Some content sourced from the “Experience Life” / Life Time article, “How to Find the Healthiest Dark Chocolate”.

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Lego Grand Piano – Update #7

(Read about how this project got started in Let’s Make Music!)

I worked outside of the box again this week. Bag #7 – of 21 bags of pieces – assembled a second layer on top of the section I can’t yet attach to the bigger section behind it. From “Last week” to “This week”, you can see I worked almost entirely in black, which suggests I’m creating more of the outside of the piano.

Despite the majestic wash of Debussy’s “La Mer”, Bag #7 was completed in less than thirty minutes, with only one heart-pounding moment where I thought I’d left out pieces in the Bag #6 build. Thank goodness I was wrong. Still on track.

Running Build Time: 6.0 hours. Musical accompaniment: Debussy’s La Mer and Prélude à l’aprés-midi d’un Faune (try and say that ten times fast). Leftover pieces: One (clearly an extra, whew!)

Conductor’s Note: Today’s build wasn’t very exciting, so it helped to have Debussy booming in the background. However, as I turned the page of Mr. Instruction Manual in anticipation of Bag #8, I saw pictures of… long, thin, reed-like pieces. Holy buckets, Maestro, it’s time to make this piano a stringed instrument!