you put your left foot out, you put your left foot in…

If you only have five minutes to make decisions with lasting impact, you use the five minutes and move on.

That about summarizes my day.

My work continues to flood my waking hours. But in between, I have the time (measured in minutes if not seconds) to quickly, oh so quickly, create a future.

Working under pressure… I’m used to it. Manipulating time – a skill that has served me well. I think. Making changes, shifting perspectives – all doable.

Okay. Enough of this kind of writing. Tomorrow I get down to basics. I’m flying out east, snow and sleet permitting. Lots of travel ahead. Bear with me. It’ll be a month of movement in all ways.

you put your left foot out, you put your left foot in…

If you only have five minutes to make decisions with lasting impact, you use the five minutes and move on.

That about summarizes my day.

My work continues to flood my waking hours. But in between, I have the time (measured in minutes if not seconds) to quickly, oh so quickly, create a future.

Working under pressure… I’m used to it. Manipulating time – a skill that has served me well. I think. Making changes, shifting perspectives – all doable.

Okay. Enough of this kind of writing. Tomorrow I get down to basics. I’m flying out east, snow and sleet permitting. Lots of travel ahead. Bear with me. It’ll be a month of movement in all ways.

forward!

And now comes the movement, the sprint. I’m up for it, the move, the leap, I’m ready. Polish peasant stock. Mobile, adaptable. Taking on the Badger motto: forward!



The snow is wet but firm. So is my resolve. White box, I’m going to go for it. Out of your rectangle, I will create a space that will be home. After a trip across the ocean, I’ll return to you. Here’s my address, my permanent address…

Whoa! I haven’t an accepted offer yet! One step at a time.

forward!

And now comes the movement, the sprint. I’m up for it, the move, the leap, I’m ready. Polish peasant stock. Mobile, adaptable. Taking on the Badger motto: forward!



The snow is wet but firm. So is my resolve. White box, I’m going to go for it. Out of your rectangle, I will create a space that will be home. After a trip across the ocean, I’ll return to you. Here’s my address, my permanent address…

Whoa! I haven’t an accepted offer yet! One step at a time.

so what do you think?

This is it. The white box. Should I buy it? Say yes.

so what do you think?

This is it. The white box. Should I buy it? Say yes.

the afterwards

So. The storms have passed. And what do you do afterwards? Well, it depends on what the day has tossed you.

Oh, the ups and downs of life.

The toil:



The joy:



And the reality of work. Tempered by music. Or a few words on the cell. I’d like to believe it’s with her mom, but probably it’s with a friend.

the afterwards

So. The storms have passed. And what do you do afterwards? Well, it depends on what the day has tossed you.

Oh, the ups and downs of life.

The toil:



The joy:



And the reality of work. Tempered by music. Or a few words on the cell. I’d like to believe it’s with her mom, but probably it’s with a friend.

it continues

Madison is under a weather siege. Attacked by winds, snow, ice and lightening. Enough to make you hide under the table.

I spend the earlier hours of the day rocking a car out of drifts (that were the result of yesterday’s opening act to this madness) and looking at bottom-of-the-heap for-sale houses. The ones that have been sitting on the market for twelve months, where the owners still don’t get it. Lower it, you fools! Someone with a small income and fix-it talents would do wonders here. Let them in!

Me - I am not such a person. I can unplug a toilet by using product. And I can fix gutters by climbing on the roof and attaching a dislocated piece with a hairpin. I have done these things, but not a lot beyond.

And so I return to the condo market, reluctantly admitting that I am pedantic and with a small budget. The worst combination.

I walk through units with mouth open and an internal calculator screaming get me out of here, get me out of here.

But I cannot leave.

A shell. I think I will buy a condo shell, a white box, they call it. A place with no interior, nothing but a rectangle with studs, posts and pipes sticking out. The interior will go in when and however issues of affordability will resolve themselves.

In the meantime, I am remembering that it is February, not a decision-making month and still, I am making decisions and moving forward ever so rapidly. It is the only way. Asking me to stand still and wait a spell is like telling a chef to hang up his or her apron and order out pizza from Rocky Rococo.

The storm is in full force. The snow is blinding, but not enough so as to make it impossible for me to see beyond the parking lot below.

it continues

Madison is under a weather siege. Attacked by winds, snow, ice and lightening. Enough to make you hide under the table.

I spend the earlier hours of the day rocking a car out of drifts (that were the result of yesterday’s opening act to this madness) and looking at bottom-of-the-heap for-sale houses. The ones that have been sitting on the market for twelve months, where the owners still don’t get it. Lower it, you fools! Someone with a small income and fix-it talents would do wonders here. Let them in!

Me - I am not such a person. I can unplug a toilet by using product. And I can fix gutters by climbing on the roof and attaching a dislocated piece with a hairpin. I have done these things, but not a lot beyond.

And so I return to the condo market, reluctantly admitting that I am pedantic and with a small budget. The worst combination.

I walk through units with mouth open and an internal calculator screaming get me out of here, get me out of here.

But I cannot leave.

A shell. I think I will buy a condo shell, a white box, they call it. A place with no interior, nothing but a rectangle with studs, posts and pipes sticking out. The interior will go in when and however issues of affordability will resolve themselves.

In the meantime, I am remembering that it is February, not a decision-making month and still, I am making decisions and moving forward ever so rapidly. It is the only way. Asking me to stand still and wait a spell is like telling a chef to hang up his or her apron and order out pizza from Rocky Rococo.

The storm is in full force. The snow is blinding, but not enough so as to make it impossible for me to see beyond the parking lot below.

winter storms

So they say it will snow this weekend. I am attuned to the weather! My camera sits waiting.

A preshot: before the storm.



But is it really before? I have been storming around Madison all week long, looking through voluminous listings of a glutted real estate market. Glutted with awful awful structures (yes, I am now broadening my span: condos and houses, but cheap. I’m into cheap. Bottom of the heap).

All these unsold houses: let’s make a deal and start all over. They were never meant to last, I’m sure. Antibiotics or fertilizers artificially kept them alive. Pufff! Out they go. Yes?

Or, if that is too costly a solution, let me suggest this: let’s get rid of the large ugly garages and let’s put in big windows into structures that seem to have way too few to allow for any sensible light. Weird in a cold state such as ours that we should keep the sun out.

Late in the evening I go to a Dar Williams concert. It will surprise no one that I cry right through half the songs.

At the end of one, she tells how she used to ask people to flash their lighters during the last bars. Gimmick? No, with Dar, it's not that. But she has been around for a decade or more and so lighters, she has come to realize, are not that everpresent. Instead, out come the cell phones – our concession to light in dark places. And so we wave our cell phones and sing Iowa and go home.

But that turns out to be not so easy. The blizzard that was supposed to come tomorrow is here. It is pouring down by the baleful! I’m giddy with the early pile up of wet wet snow. The drive home isn’t long. No, not long. I live downtown after all. This year, this month, I live downtown.



Toward th end, Dar sings “February" and so I think of house keys (handing house keys is an idea much tossed around in that song; the keys are tossed around as well. I believe a set lands in a pond which freezes over -- such a WIsconsin story) – who holds the keys to my house?

winter storms

So they say it will snow this weekend. I am attuned to the weather! My camera sits waiting.

A preshot: before the storm.



But is it really before? I have been storming around Madison all week long, looking through voluminous listings of a glutted real estate market. Glutted with awful awful structures (yes, I am now broadening my span: condos and houses, but cheap. I’m into cheap. Bottom of the heap).

All these unsold houses: let’s make a deal and start all over. They were never meant to last, I’m sure. Antibiotics or fertilizers artificially kept them alive. Pufff! Out they go. Yes?

Or, if that is too costly a solution, let me suggest this: let’s get rid of the large ugly garages and let’s put in big windows into structures that seem to have way too few to allow for any sensible light. Weird in a cold state such as ours that we should keep the sun out.

Late in the evening I go to a Dar Williams concert. It will surprise no one that I cry right through half the songs.

At the end of one, she tells how she used to ask people to flash their lighters during the last bars. Gimmick? No, with Dar, it's not that. But she has been around for a decade or more and so lighters, she has come to realize, are not that everpresent. Instead, out come the cell phones – our concession to light in dark places. And so we wave our cell phones and sing Iowa and go home.

But that turns out to be not so easy. The blizzard that was supposed to come tomorrow is here. It is pouring down by the baleful! I’m giddy with the early pile up of wet wet snow. The drive home isn’t long. No, not long. I live downtown after all. This year, this month, I live downtown.



Toward th end, Dar sings “February" and so I think of house keys (handing house keys is an idea much tossed around in that song; the keys are tossed around as well. I believe a set lands in a pond which freezes over -- such a WIsconsin story) – who holds the keys to my house?

where the grass is greener

It struck me last week that I should move. That I am spending much and benefiting little from lining the pockets of my (quite nice actually) landlord. That I should worry about things like equity. That I should look forward to spring by imagining pots filled with flowers out on my nonexistent deck. That I should create a space where (frequent) visitors can disappear at the end of the day and not be on top of each other (lofts are so… open). That Madison’s condo boom has passed me by and I should jump back into the fray and be a part of the hip set.

My winter weeks have been extremely packed with work commitments, but finally, late this afternoon, I set out to look at what’s out there.

I am still reeling from that effort. Updates will follow. In the meantime, let me just say this: in the twenty years that I have been less than even marginally interested in acquiring space (looking for an apartment rental does not count) the real estate world has turned up side down. That is one crazy marketplace out there! I may shut my door to it all and never leave the loft again. Or, by season’s end, I may be downsizing and stacking boxes once more.

It cannot be said that I am not open to the idea of change.

where the grass is greener

It struck me last week that I should move. That I am spending much and benefiting little from lining the pockets of my (quite nice actually) landlord. That I should worry about things like equity. That I should look forward to spring by imagining pots filled with flowers out on my nonexistent deck. That I should create a space where (frequent) visitors can disappear at the end of the day and not be on top of each other (lofts are so… open). That Madison’s condo boom has passed me by and I should jump back into the fray and be a part of the hip set.

My winter weeks have been extremely packed with work commitments, but finally, late this afternoon, I set out to look at what’s out there.

I am still reeling from that effort. Updates will follow. In the meantime, let me just say this: in the twenty years that I have been less than even marginally interested in acquiring space (looking for an apartment rental does not count) the real estate world has turned up side down. That is one crazy marketplace out there! I may shut my door to it all and never leave the loft again. Or, by season’s end, I may be downsizing and stacking boxes once more.

It cannot be said that I am not open to the idea of change.

second day without camera explained by the fact that little camera got dropped last week and big camera is too ostentatious

But who’s counting.

second day without camera explained by the fact that little camera got dropped last week and big camera is too ostentatious

But who’s counting.

hatching

When you embark on the road to hatching great plans, you get easily distracted. At every indentation, every momentary pause, you revert back to hatching plans. They may not be great in the scheme of things, but there is no denying, they are substantial plans.

And so you study the possibilities, you get back on the Net, or to the drawing board, or both and you forget about the world.

Were you to remember the world, you would have remembered to take the camera and take a photo of the warmth outside. So warm that I biked to work and did not suffer. Amazing.

You especially want to remember this warm-ish week because by week’s end, it will all be over and winter will return again.

So remember. Today, it was a warm thirties plus. And I biked. Got that?

Otherwise, nothing else counts. I hatch plans and give a little boost to others who are hatching their own.

hatching

When you embark on the road to hatching great plans, you get easily distracted. At every indentation, every momentary pause, you revert back to hatching plans. They may not be great in the scheme of things, but there is no denying, they are substantial plans.

And so you study the possibilities, you get back on the Net, or to the drawing board, or both and you forget about the world.

Were you to remember the world, you would have remembered to take the camera and take a photo of the warmth outside. So warm that I biked to work and did not suffer. Amazing.

You especially want to remember this warm-ish week because by week’s end, it will all be over and winter will return again.

So remember. Today, it was a warm thirties plus. And I biked. Got that?

Otherwise, nothing else counts. I hatch plans and give a little boost to others who are hatching their own.

a quiet finish

If I promise a brilliant March, a month full of insightful, splendid, voluminous words and images, will you forive me as I phase out of February meekly, spiritedlessly?

Thank you.

Statement of the day: I so appreciate the thermometer inching up beyond freezing. It did not go by unnoticed. Movements in fine directions are always welcome.

Is there a photo for today? Of course. A new visitor on my eating table:

a quiet finish

If I promise a brilliant March, a month full of insightful, splendid, voluminous words and images, will you forive me as I phase out of February meekly, spiritedlessly?

Thank you.

Statement of the day: I so appreciate the thermometer inching up beyond freezing. It did not go by unnoticed. Movements in fine directions are always welcome.

Is there a photo for today? Of course. A new visitor on my eating table:

yes, it's Mineral Point, Wisconsin: the southwest of the Midwest.

Mineral Point. That’s right. A town, a village really. Fifty miles southwest of Madison. With great pommes frites at the Brewery Creek and very very nice people up and down High Street who want you to come visit. Are there many (any?) places where you feel like your appearance is a gift to others?

I buy my morning espresso at the Spotted Dog and I watch two Chicagoans come up to get their coffee. Cold people, both of them. The week-end did not fix their relationship. Too bad. Cheer up. Back in the city, you can work on it again.

A man with soiled hands picks up his fair trade coffee and says – I need to go open my gallery. Funny town, this is. People start the day at the café and go open galleries on a Sunday morning.

Meanwhile, Ed is eating two eggs over easy next door, at the Red Rooster. This is the kind of place I used to stop at in my days of hitchhiking! Why do men like to relive days of hitchkiking for you? Is it because there is a certain freedom inherent in that act, something that is gone, wiped out now that they’re no longer…hitchhiking? I watch him wipe the plate with buttered toast. A classic American diner breakfast. Mineral Point has both – the classic and, right next door, the café with the fair trade stuff. And jewelry.



We drive off to do a two hour (meaning short, compared to yesterday) spin on skiis, around the trails of Indian Lake. Lots of climbing up and shooshing down. I hate the climbing up, Ed hates the shooshing down. I am so terrified, my eyeballs freeze from the horror of it; I force myself not to look at the tree I am likely to crash into, he says.

He does not crash, but he does look terrified.



Me, I have the demeanor of the confident one. You can say this about me: there walks (skis) the person who does not fret about small dangers.



People are so quick to form impressions.

It’s 19 degrees outside and climbing. Tomorrow the snow may start to melt. The end of the cross country skiing season in southwestern Wisconsin?



I come back to the loft, the Wireless service crashes, I dash out to get a new router, it takes three hours to set it up, I eat late, I post late… welcome back.

yes, it's Mineral Point, Wisconsin: the southwest of the Midwest.

Mineral Point. That’s right. A town, a village really. Fifty miles southwest of Madison. With great pommes frites at the Brewery Creek and very very nice people up and down High Street who want you to come visit. Are there many (any?) places where you feel like your appearance is a gift to others?

I buy my morning espresso at the Spotted Dog and I watch two Chicagoans come up to get their coffee. Cold people, both of them. The week-end did not fix their relationship. Too bad. Cheer up. Back in the city, you can work on it again.

A man with soiled hands picks up his fair trade coffee and says – I need to go open my gallery. Funny town, this is. People start the day at the café and go open galleries on a Sunday morning.

Meanwhile, Ed is eating two eggs over easy next door, at the Red Rooster. This is the kind of place I used to stop at in my days of hitchhiking! Why do men like to relive days of hitchkiking for you? Is it because there is a certain freedom inherent in that act, something that is gone, wiped out now that they’re no longer…hitchhiking? I watch him wipe the plate with buttered toast. A classic American diner breakfast. Mineral Point has both – the classic and, right next door, the café with the fair trade stuff. And jewelry.



We drive off to do a two hour (meaning short, compared to yesterday) spin on skiis, around the trails of Indian Lake. Lots of climbing up and shooshing down. I hate the climbing up, Ed hates the shooshing down. I am so terrified, my eyeballs freeze from the horror of it; I force myself not to look at the tree I am likely to crash into, he says.

He does not crash, but he does look terrified.



Me, I have the demeanor of the confident one. You can say this about me: there walks (skis) the person who does not fret about small dangers.



People are so quick to form impressions.

It’s 19 degrees outside and climbing. Tomorrow the snow may start to melt. The end of the cross country skiing season in southwestern Wisconsin?



I come back to the loft, the Wireless service crashes, I dash out to get a new router, it takes three hours to set it up, I eat late, I post late… welcome back.

notes from M.P. (Mystery Place)

Late yesterday, Ed, my fitful traveling companion, packed a backpack, I packed a whole little suitcase and we headed south. (Southwest, if you want to be precise.)

I have been working hard on convincing him to break away with me sometime this winter and this is as close as we got to an agreement. In March and April, we’re traveling in quite opposite directions, but this February week-end, we are both turned southwards! (Southwest. Have to be precise here.)

Last year, we were more ambitious. Far, far into the northeastern provinces of Canada, right into the frosty climate of Quebec we went. Splendid!

This year, we are more tame. We’re staying in a cottage – here, this is it:



…right at the edge of this town:



They say it’s almost European. Sort of. M.P. (Mystery Place) has the markings of a small English village – the stone houses, places once inhabited by miners who came here in droves many many decades ago…

And here: this café with very excellent coffee… it’s quite European, isn’t it?





Possibly not. European cafes give you choice. You want something spirited? Fine. You want a warm soup? Cheeses? Pastries? It’s here for you, daily. Fresh and honest. Our coffee shops in the States tend to sell, well, coffee. This one also has nice jewelry. A dead giveaway that I did not travel beyond the borders of this country.

And the High Street is quiet. It needs a bakery or two, a grocer maybe? Commerce that will breathe life into the blocks of stone houses. No, no more gift shops, no more antique places, no, please no. Give us a reason to stroll here, tempt us, lure us with something credible.

Idle thoughts. Fact is, this is one of the region’s nicest – a town with a deep history (and you can feel it, right here on High Street), with a great bed and breakfast, a fine brewery (actually, the bed and breakfast and the brewery are one and the same), and don’t forget the landscape – hills and vales. Snow-covered now. As I said yesterday, not south enough. Not beach weather here. No, we’re out and about, spending the most beautiful week-end of the winter doing this:



Amidst these scenes:




Down these trails:



Splendid cross country skiing terrain. And sunshine. A real southern getaway to M.P.

notes from M.P. (Mystery Place)

Late yesterday, Ed, my fitful traveling companion, packed a backpack, I packed a whole little suitcase and we headed south. (Southwest, if you want to be precise.)

I have been working hard on convincing him to break away with me sometime this winter and this is as close as we got to an agreement. In March and April, we’re traveling in quite opposite directions, but this February week-end, we are both turned southwards! (Southwest. Have to be precise here.)

Last year, we were more ambitious. Far, far into the northeastern provinces of Canada, right into the frosty climate of Quebec we went. Splendid!

This year, we are more tame. We’re staying in a cottage – here, this is it:



…right at the edge of this town:



They say it’s almost European. Sort of. M.P. (Mystery Place) has the markings of a small English village – the stone houses, places once inhabited by miners who came here in droves many many decades ago…

And here: this café with very excellent coffee… it’s quite European, isn’t it?





Possibly not. European cafes give you choice. You want something spirited? Fine. You want a warm soup? Cheeses? Pastries? It’s here for you, daily. Fresh and honest. Our coffee shops in the States tend to sell, well, coffee. This one also has nice jewelry. A dead giveaway that I did not travel beyond the borders of this country.

And the High Street is quiet. It needs a bakery or two, a grocer maybe? Commerce that will breathe life into the blocks of stone houses. No, no more gift shops, no more antique places, no, please no. Give us a reason to stroll here, tempt us, lure us with something credible.

Idle thoughts. Fact is, this is one of the region’s nicest – a town with a deep history (and you can feel it, right here on High Street), with a great bed and breakfast, a fine brewery (actually, the bed and breakfast and the brewery are one and the same), and don’t forget the landscape – hills and vales. Snow-covered now. As I said yesterday, not south enough. Not beach weather here. No, we’re out and about, spending the most beautiful week-end of the winter doing this:



Amidst these scenes:




Down these trails:



Splendid cross country skiing terrain. And sunshine. A real southern getaway to M.P.

a February redirect

Don’t you think that on a cold February day reading about the icy air outside is boring? I agree.

I'm south now, but obviously not south enough. A photo of the snow-topped, icycled chairs outside:



More on this later. Right now I recommend that you head for Ocean View and click on the Armchair Roaming tab, where I confront the issue of summer crowds of tourists at popular destinations. Bottom line … no, why should I give you the bottom line here? Ocean View has the story ("Walking the Beaten Path"). Go there.

a February redirect

Don’t you think that on a cold February day reading about the icy air outside is boring? I agree.

I'm south now, but obviously not south enough. A photo of the snow-topped, icycled chairs outside:



More on this later. Right now I recommend that you head for Ocean View and click on the Armchair Roaming tab, where I confront the issue of summer crowds of tourists at popular destinations. Bottom line … no, why should I give you the bottom line here? Ocean View has the story ("Walking the Beaten Path"). Go there.

tomorrow

A post explaining a no post is not a post at all, but it is all I can give tonight. After a long, long work day, I am spent. But I promise double vigilance in the days ahead and, to compensate for my low energy levels tonight, I am determined to deliver many notes and photos from the week-end. Even if I did just drop my camera and lose a whole back portion of it as a result. So what. It’s just a camera, I’ve done it before, it’s not the end of the world. Cameras are made to be cracked, bruised, dropped and mistreated, right? Right?

Until tomorrow then. I am finally heading south. Surprised? Tune in to read about the where and why. You'll be surprised on at least one count.

tomorrow

A post explaining a no post is not a post at all, but it is all I can give tonight. After a long, long work day, I am spent. But I promise double vigilance in the days ahead and, to compensate for my low energy levels tonight, I am determined to deliver many notes and photos from the week-end. Even if I did just drop my camera and lose a whole back portion of it as a result. So what. It’s just a camera, I’ve done it before, it’s not the end of the world. Cameras are made to be cracked, bruised, dropped and mistreated, right? Right?

Until tomorrow then. I am finally heading south. Surprised? Tune in to read about the where and why. You'll be surprised on at least one count.

the heart side of love

Images from the day, ending with a bunch of blooms from me to… well, me.


be my State Street Valentine



please, be my State Street Valentine



dude, how many roses do I need to get her?



what should we get for mommy? wine and cheese?



two

the heart side of love

Images from the day, ending with a bunch of blooms from me to… well, me.


be my State Street Valentine



please, be my State Street Valentine



dude, how many roses do I need to get her?



what should we get for mommy? wine and cheese?



two