Fall Break, sunny skies--where have you gone?
I ate at the Red Iguana twice.
Robert, Catie and I purchased clothing and a typewriter at Salty Streets Market.
No, we did not purchase the sunglasses.
Robert and I walked around the block and peeked in windows. It is a rather strange, and mostly abandoned block.
I did errands on my bicycle, but most of my errands were failures. Shops were closed or didn't have what I wanted. But diversions from the errands were successful, which might be better?
It was a quiet week?
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
LIKE A SAILOR IN A DEAD CALM SEA
September meant peaches, plums, and pears falling off trees all over the neighborhood and slicking up the sidewalks. I picked these a few blocks from my house, off the littlest peach tree. I went back for more, but these people had responsibly harvested the entire tree. Anyway, they were delicious.
September also meant junk collection month. In my determination to glean something good, I found a mirror, which was actually meant to reside on my mantle, although Andy thought maybe it wanted to be discarded, that it might be tired of reflecting us in all our narcissism. It is a hard to be a mirror, he said.
Oh tired mirror, bounce the light around for me and I'll put nice things in your view. I'll wash you once in awhile.
The library got a new website and I couldn't find the button to have my book delivered to the Marriott Library instead of the medical library, so I took a field trip. The medical library was not what I expected. Not pale and contemporary. No glassy blue-green emptiness and high, arching city view floor-to-ceiling windows. Only old carpet and study carrels and a very long line to pick up a book. The requested books were on the smallest cart within arm's reach of the circulation clerk--there may have been fifty books waiting. It all felt tiny and very low-tech. But while waiting in line for my book, this glass case of brain anatomy models caught my eye.
Like broccoli or intricate tree trunks or lungs or coral.
Maybe these are Alzheimer examples?
Really, September blurred past. I barely took my camera out. But there were a couple of trips to the farmer's market.
And completely separate from junk pick-up month, someone put this tent out on the curb with a free sign, along with empty old fruit crates and a little dresser and a chair and all sorts of other junk. My new tent is only missing the rain fly, and it is so lightweight.
And St. Teresa's gas station got a new bit of paste paper.
I want that whole awning to be covered...
And then October arrived, and the nights instantly got cold, and I made the first soup of the season--red lentil--and ate it every night for almost a week, although this batch was really a bit too salty.
September also meant junk collection month. In my determination to glean something good, I found a mirror, which was actually meant to reside on my mantle, although Andy thought maybe it wanted to be discarded, that it might be tired of reflecting us in all our narcissism. It is a hard to be a mirror, he said.
Oh tired mirror, bounce the light around for me and I'll put nice things in your view. I'll wash you once in awhile.
The library got a new website and I couldn't find the button to have my book delivered to the Marriott Library instead of the medical library, so I took a field trip. The medical library was not what I expected. Not pale and contemporary. No glassy blue-green emptiness and high, arching city view floor-to-ceiling windows. Only old carpet and study carrels and a very long line to pick up a book. The requested books were on the smallest cart within arm's reach of the circulation clerk--there may have been fifty books waiting. It all felt tiny and very low-tech. But while waiting in line for my book, this glass case of brain anatomy models caught my eye.
Like broccoli or intricate tree trunks or lungs or coral.
Maybe these are Alzheimer examples?
Really, September blurred past. I barely took my camera out. But there were a couple of trips to the farmer's market.
And completely separate from junk pick-up month, someone put this tent out on the curb with a free sign, along with empty old fruit crates and a little dresser and a chair and all sorts of other junk. My new tent is only missing the rain fly, and it is so lightweight.
And St. Teresa's gas station got a new bit of paste paper.
I want that whole awning to be covered...
And then October arrived, and the nights instantly got cold, and I made the first soup of the season--red lentil--and ate it every night for almost a week, although this batch was really a bit too salty.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
GREAT SKY UNSMUDGED, BONES EXPOSED
TS came out for a visit and, with Catie, we drove south to Escalante. Since I've lived in Utah, I haven't gotten down to crazy landscapes of the south much, but in college I found myself there fairly often--a couple of spring breaks or long weekends, a training trip when I lead backpacking trips for kids. The last, and only, time I'd been to Escalante was for spring break of my senior year of college. I went with two friends. Apparently I laughed in my sleep on that trip.
The road to our chosen trail was washed out, but the ranger recommended another one, which was actually much closer.
We spent a lot of time looking for the trail, which kept disappearing. In the end, the river was the trail. We wore sandals the whole time, leaving our boots swinging from our packs. The water was mostly shallow, and not very cold.
We saw strange birds and a coyote, and lots of little footprints in the sand--maybe otter prints. We did not see any rattlesnakes. We were often surprised by patches of quicksand.
By far, the greatest challenge came in swarms of vicious mosquitoes.
We slept on an anthill-really, the entire hill was their home and all night we slid downhill. The "2-3 person" tent was really more of a 2.25 person tent. Catie was the hero, finally giving up and crawling out of the tent to wrap herself in the unused rainfly as defense against the insects. Maybe we all slept for a couple of hours after that. But I think we'd all do it again.
The road to our chosen trail was washed out, but the ranger recommended another one, which was actually much closer.
We spent a lot of time looking for the trail, which kept disappearing. In the end, the river was the trail. We wore sandals the whole time, leaving our boots swinging from our packs. The water was mostly shallow, and not very cold.
We saw strange birds and a coyote, and lots of little footprints in the sand--maybe otter prints. We did not see any rattlesnakes. We were often surprised by patches of quicksand.
By far, the greatest challenge came in swarms of vicious mosquitoes.
We slept on an anthill-really, the entire hill was their home and all night we slid downhill. The "2-3 person" tent was really more of a 2.25 person tent. Catie was the hero, finally giving up and crawling out of the tent to wrap herself in the unused rainfly as defense against the insects. Maybe we all slept for a couple of hours after that. But I think we'd all do it again.
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