Excuse me?

I just found out that the presentations a week from to-day are going to be held in the largest lecture-hall on campus (of two, but still). And I'm presenting. It won't be full, but still. Not a fan.

Listing

I've come up with some goals. Here it goes:

#Triscuits and a Naked are not a meal. Not even with hummus. Act accordingly.
#Get more fresh air. I have no excuse.
#Carry my camera with me everywhere.
#Read for more time each day than I spend online (even if I'm online reading).
#This sounds really hokey, but get more creativity into my life. Play the piano, sketch a tree, whatever. I should do that every day.

The uglies kept falling off the bed, so I put them on time-out in a drawer.

Des misérables? non, mais au rang des heureux.

(Ronsard)

I was held up on the way home from the grocery store (where I bought some Guacamole, which has yet to prove itself) by something involving police cars and fire engines all over the middle of the road. I came almost right up to the mess, because I couldn't see it with the sun slanting in my eyes the way it always does on Union Street, but I got turned around just fine.

The grocery store had brought up the topic of pasta between Reginald Query and myself, and Reginald, having ridiculously expressed "Noodloos" in description of Penne, I of course demanded to know WHAT ON EARTH he was talking about. And what did he have to say for it? Only this: "There is hardly a word that would not profit from an extra double-o." There's a strange logic in it, if you think about it for too long.

Come Winter

That is roughly the view I'll have from my window when I come back from France next winter. Minus the green, plus some snow, one floor up (this was taken from the porch below, a place of general congregation). And I'm excited about this. It's strange that what I can't stop thinking about right now is getting back from my highly anticipated semester in France, I know. But this is the case for two reasons:

1.
I love snow. Anyone who has ever seen me during a snowfall will tell you that it makes me absolutely batty. Fall is my favorite season, but snow is probably my favorite thing. period.
2.
Winter cooking is the best cooking. And the baking! I think pound cake is a great summer dish, and indeed it is, since it lends itself so well to fresh fruit and ice cream (or custard, if you're in Wisconsin!). But it also lends itself quite well to some good, fortifying, home-made whipped cream. And hot drinks. And there's no baking like baking in Wells House. I just can't wait to squeeze back into our tiny closet of a kitchen/laundry room.

Post Scriptum: In titling this post, I was definitely thinking of the Daphne Loves Derby song, which always makes me think of home.

funnydo

A little update, in not-so-many words.



I like that song about the church.

Albany, New York

Apparently Albany has several farmer's markets. Of course, I should have figured that out when I googled it and came up with directions to multiple locations. But did I think this out at the time? Oh, no, I just picked a set of directions at random, and followed them, yesterday, Saturday, to the exact location of a farmer's market that takes place every Thursday all summer long. Neat. I never did find the one that was taking place on Saturday, but I did wander around Albany a bit, so I thought I'd share.

Of course Albany, like most cities, is full of juxtapositions like these:

Sometimes I find it charming.

Old architecture and new stand very close together, creating some odd aesthetics, and a sense of time. But to me, Albany seemed even stranger than what I'm used to along these lines. Maybe it's because I'm from Milwaukee, and things aren't quite as old. It's true that back home, we pretty much missed out on the Gothic style altogether. But I've been to other cities: St. Louis, Indianapolis, New York, Boston, and Paris, to work my way east, and there's something weird about Albany. I kept trying to figure it out as I walked around.

I saw this building, and for whatever reason, was very attracted to it. So I turned off the main street. If there had been few people on the main street, there were even down this way. Though I passed a car that was on with the radio blaring, I didn't see a soul until I had turned the corner two more times.

But I did see this Institute for Humanist Studies, and wondered what they do there; isn't Humanism a little dated?

Across the street was this empty parking lot, next to this building in rather a poor state of repair:

For all that these things are all based on European models, I think they come off American in their execution. But I don't really know anything about it.

This street actually looked that white in the sunlight.

There was a whole row of doors with steps like this, fenced and hedged in by shrubbery. Only every three doors or so on this block was operable, with an accessible staircase. It looked strange.

Then, just a couple of blocks away from the Capitol building, I found this ghosttown. There was a stairway down to it, but it was so eerie I didn't make it all the way down the steps.

I walked past an Epsicopal church whose signboard said they had "Holy Eucharist" daily at 12:05. It was two minutes to twelve.

So I walked up along by the side door, and listened to the organ music a while. This was the view I had through the open door. That little row of lights was electrical, and it somehow seemed very appropriate. Maybe it was just the quality of the light, but that row of lights in the dark church seemed as good as candles, from here anyway. I would have gone in, but I was wearing a low-cut, strappy tank top; I was hardly dressed to enter any kind of church.

This was one of several side doors of another, bigger Episcopal church that I passed on my way back.
I was fascinated by that little turquoise dome that you can see in the background. I didn't get around to finding the building to get a better look at. On my way back, I was still very fond of this building on the right.