new england

Leaving Cambridge (MA) this week-end means saying so long to the colors of ivy and maple.



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Going north. I'm looking good and hard at this part of the country. I remember it. My first American winter escapes. I have plenty of childhood memories of New England. It's a mixed bag. I'm more than happy to make substitutions and changes so that my final take on this places comes off as a positive.




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As we cross from Massachusetts to New Hampshire to Vermont, we lose the leaves. The air gets colder too. We stop for a cup of coffee and comment on the chill. They’re making snow at nearby Killington tonight.

Killington. I skied there thirty five years ago! I remember the week-end: I briefly contemplated downhill racing then (my ambitions were often out of line with my skills). I was fast! And afterwards, I kissed a man with complete infatuation and abandon. Even though we never really exchanged more than a dozen words. He was from Canada, I was from New York and I never saw him again after. We truly had nothing in common.


My daughter and I pass the village of Quechee, Vermont. We’ll be back here for dinner. Right here, in this room hanging over the river and the dam. Right next to the covered bridge.



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The sun is pretty much done with the day by the time we get to Woodstock, our place for the night.



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That’s okay. We’re tired from the drive. We stop at the Woodstocker, an inn just off the road.



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It’s a good time to be here. Off season. The stars outside are just as dense now. More so, I should think.

I pick up a bottle of Vermont wine for later at the butcher’s. Vermont wine. With a cow on the label. Weird confluence of symbols, no? Life’s funny.

new england

Can you tell what's down there?



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Boston. I'm following the steps of my younger daughter who lives here. For now.

Late, I walk through her campus, liking the leaves and light that hit her law buildings, in much the same way that I like it when the sun hits the trees outside my own law school office.



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New England. It conjures up a wealth of pretty images.

And food wise? Oh, it's good. I hear on the news that lobster prices are at a twenty year low. Sad for the fishermen. They're hoping that at least people will buy what's brought to shore. We help by eating lobster rolls for dinner.





And we retire. In anticipation of tomorrow’s journey north.

the last ride

Surely I do not need to check the air pressure on my bike tires anymore. It’s the tail end of October. Next week is November. I’m not happy on the bike when it’s cold. The wind cuts through everything. The lake path is murderous. At that point, I prefer the bus.

And yet, this morning, I check the air. Low. I pump it up to 125 where it belongs. And I set out. It may be the last time this year. The last time under this administration. The last time before Spring.

I zip by the playing fields. Onto the lakeshore path. Past the plaid coated figure. So Fall.



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...and past the morning emptiness of the Union Terrace.



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On Bascom Mall – pumpkins. Hi, jack-o-lanterns.



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And then, toward evening, it is the reverse. Bye, jack-o-lanterns. And pink toned sky over the Capitol.



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I pass bikers coming back from band practice. I pass the barns and silos next to our agricultural school.



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Warm. I’m warm. Amazing. Sun’s gone, it’s the end of October and I have to unbutton my coat.


At home, I lock up my bike, thinking that I may not touch it again until 09. Weird, isn’t it?

for hire?

I thought of posting this ad on Craig’s list:

Wanted, part time job.
Qualifications: various.

I am motivated and hardworking. Unfortunately, I already have a full time job and oftentimes I don’t get home until after 7 p.m., so I am available only in the evenings before I fall asleep, or on week-ends (unless I am away – like this coming week-end and several others in the near future). Actually, come to think of it, between work, writing, photos and blogging, and being away, I guess I don’t have a huge amount of time for an additional job, but what time I have to give will be quality time.

I don’t mind boring work, so long as it’s well-paid.
I would like to earn at least $25 per hour – in my head that translates into $100 in four hours, which is pretty cool.

I like children, so long as they don’t have some contagious bug. Children like me, too, which does not mean I am immature, only that I find most kids engaging. We get along.

I can teach languages if you need to learn languages. I realize no one in this country wants to or needs to learn languages, but still, you may consider it, just for the heck of it.

Please send me an email if you think I am qualified to do whatever in the next several weeks.


What do you think?

Are you suggesting that I should do the search rather than just post and wait for attention? Oh, but I did!

The best ad that I came across asked for someone to come and be intelligent around her 12 year old son while she was away on a business trip. $25 per hour. Pay non-negotiable, the ad read. Wow. The pay seemed pretty high to me. I surely could at least fake great wisdom for that amount! But, somehow, I felt the ad was strange.

Almost as strange as the ad I put up on match.com a little more than three years back in which I said I wanted to meet someone who was brilliant at what he does (and I placed no limits on what kind of activities that someone could be engaged in). Ed responded to that one. Amused. At once putting forth the disclaimer that he was not such a person (we’ve argued over that, with me taking positions on both sides, depending on the issue), but still wishing to congratulate me on not simply wanting to walk on beaches at sunset or to eat all dinners by candlelight. Never mind that he himself likes to exist in perpetual dimness and would not mind if lights were off for most everything except reading. And he likes beaches. Though not for reasons of romance.

Ed and I became great pals. Occasional traveling companions even. So perhaps I should be more open minded about the ad on Craig’s list asking for intelligence.

Or, to the ad wanting to hire a chocolate seller at Fannie May. I mean, no one likes the name these days, but their chocolates are alright. Even though I would have to wear a bonnet and what’s the point of getting my hair done if it then has to be concealed by a bonnet.

Yes. There you have it. I decided to visit Jason one more time. Tonight. Hence the search for additional employment. You need to pay as you go in our new economy. I get it already.

A photo for today? How about this, the first that I took with my new camera. Out on the balcony. I wont take it further than that. Too scared of dropping it. I’m titling the photo “still, life.”



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trivial pursuits

If occasionally you can distract yourself with something completely inconsequential, do so. It’s so refreshing to indulge in (one’s own) stupidity.

Today, for example, in between classes, I thought about hair. I began to think that perhaps I should tighten my belt around my scalp. I believe Jason, my hair man, is as talented as they come. But talent is expensive.

So, cut it less? Touch it up not at all? Maybe. If no one in the world cares about the color/length of your hair, why should you?

In the afternoon, between classes, I looked around me. People have interesting hair.




curly hair in café





60s hair on State Street





very blond hair on Bascom Mall




I have to say, it was a cold day. So that very many people, even student type people, covered their scalp. This is odd, given that so many insist on staying with the short pants. I suppose one does lose heat more front the head than from the shins. Still...



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flurries, cat claws and bird noises

Suddenly, it is very cold outside. The wind, the bursts of freezing precipitation – all of it is very uninviting.

But didn’t I just put into a book format an effusive rhapsody about how beautiful outdoor Madison is, year round?

(It’s interesting that I chose that theme at the time that crickets chirped, and dragonflies buzzed, and raspberries turned red, and the sun felt too warm.)

As it is, I had no choice but to head out today. True, I have no classes on Monday, but appointments forced me to go downtown. And then, since I was just a stone’s throw from Ed’s farmette, I visited his cats.



Isis
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Larry
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I did not need to do this. Ed hired a cat lady to come in his absence and prowl around and feed his two strays some of that awful looking 9-lives stuff out of a can. But I wanted to demonstrate my respect for his two "kitties," which are really sort of like his two "kiddies." Sometimes, I’m sure Ed thinks I would shove the cats off their territorial perches if I could (they can be overbearing), but really, I do not mind them. You can’t expect much from cats who survived in the wild before showing up at his door. I remain grateful for the occasional purring noises that they throw my way. I pet them and then we go on doing our own thing.


Outside, the robins were out furiously going after the crab apples, the snow showers came and went -- in short, it was a perfect end of October kind of day. If you like the end of October.



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decadence

It was time to do a thorough cleaning. You’d think those who are ridiculously fastidious and who routinely clean their home Sunday mornings should not have to binge clean. You’d think.

Five hours later I was tired. And still, there was (law) work to do.

Late in the afternoon I had had enough. I did what I never do: I borrowed a car and took a drive.

I felt that Fall had passed me by. My coastal travel had been to places (California and New York City) that don’t do Fall very dramatically. Somewhere in there I had missed the show.

And so I drove. Too tired to hike, I took a car spin west of Madison. Some of my favorite country roads are here, a handful of minutes away. The sky changed from partly cloudy to gray, but it did this in a stunning way. Many of the trees had dropped their leaves, but not all. The fields were mostly bare, though some still had corn. Cows were pulling at the last bits of green grass. It was a gorgeous drive. (Pulling off the road to take a photo can be challenging. Toward the end, I abandoned the car and hiked some, although most of these shots were taken with a car by my side. Total gas used: one eight of a tank. Decadence.)




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he is, after all, an OCCASIONAL travel companion

Today, Ed set out to hike the Smokey Mountains (in North Carolina) with his buddy John.

Over the years, he and I have struggled to figure out ways of structuring trips and getaways that would please and delight both of us. It's been tough, given that the very first words we ever spoke to each other were around the theme that we have nothing in common.

You want to suggest compromise? Well sure, Ed and I are familiar with compromise: he bends, I bend, neither of us likes it, we sigh with resignation and toddle on. For some things in life there is no perfect middle ground.

I have thought for a while that I should quit trying to like danger and clean water and bad weather and no roof over my head. And so today, off Ed went, to pursue adventure with someone loves discomfort as much as he does.

As we shopped last night for pouches of food that they would eat in the days (weeks?) ahead, I felt both nostalgia and relief. Suckers, I envy you. For the first three days anyway. Not after.

There is another element in the story and it has to do with the fact that Ed and his buddy have both recently retired. Their time is unconstrained. It has been a valuable experience for me to watch what happens to people who retire early and whose time becomes infinitely intractable. (At the same time as I remain at home, with a stack of midterms to grade. No, not jealous. Really. I love teaching. But I also love infinitely intractable schedules. So, more like envious.)



This morning, before Ed’s Great Adventure, he and I went to the Westside Community Farmers Market. There are only a couple of Saturdays left for the outdoor market. How sad. The tail end of anything is difficult. In spite of the fact that the shades of autumn today were so very beautiful.








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After, I drove Ed to the airport. In Milwaukee (you got it: cheaper airfares!). Originally, we had wanted to stop at the Milwaukee Art Museum prior to departure, but predictably, things got out of control and we barely made it in time for him to check in before the gates closed.

Except that the gates did not close, because the flight was canceled. Here I am, zipping back to Madison and Ed is borrowing someone’s cell phone to call me with the suggestion that maybe we should spend a sweet afternoon at the Museum after all (prior to his now very late departure).

I turn around, pick him up and zip to the downtown waterfront, to the magnificent Santiago Calatrava structure (first one of his to be completed in the US, granting him the “Best Design” award of 2001).



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We saw it with the wingspan open and then, on the way back, because it was so windy today, we saw it closed.



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And inside, all was immensely sleek gorgeous. What, you doubt me?



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At the close of the afternoon, I grabbed a latte and a cookie, dropped my OTC off for his bold and daring trek and headed home. I’ve learned how to find the pretty way back to Madison. I know when to get off the highway and veer toward the hill from which you can catch a glimpse of the city ahead.



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Closer, I could see the windsurfers do their thing.



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I was happy that they got in a good day of flipping and gliding. It’s getting colder by the hour. I bet it’s warmer in North Carolina. Sigh... Hi, Ed...