from Cambridge to Madison

Yesterday, I called it a day. There were no more nails to pound. One last meal at Henrietta’s (she was the first to implant the the words “fresh and honest” in my brain), and, then, just one last decision to make, like these people, at Herrell's…




Mango with banana?

And finally, a rush to the airport. And a handful of flights home.

Home. No lobster rolls and corn grits here.


Still, after work, I can take out my bike and, within minutes, be surrounded by flowering goldenrod. And soy plants.








Ed, my occasional traveling companion, leads me on a loop around the town of Marshall. The roads are so empty that I could dance circles around myself and no one would notice. Maybe the cat and the rooster. That's it.




I didn’t even mind the hills. Such a day!

from Cambridge to Madison

Yesterday, I called it a day. There were no more nails to pound. One last meal at Henrietta’s (she was the first to implant the the words “fresh and honest” in my brain), and, then, just one last decision to make, like these people, at Herrell's…




Mango with banana?

And finally, a rush to the airport. And a handful of flights home.

Home. No lobster rolls and corn grits here.


Still, after work, I can take out my bike and, within minutes, be surrounded by flowering goldenrod. And soy plants.








Ed, my occasional traveling companion, leads me on a loop around the town of Marshall. The roads are so empty that I could dance circles around myself and no one would notice. Maybe the cat and the rooster. That's it.




I didn’t even mind the hills. Such a day!

from Cambridge: success, ltd.

Eventually I can do it. I can figure out how to drill in fasteners into tough walls. How to work blinds into uneven window frames. I can.

It’s easier to drive a nail through a brick wall than to change habits and dispositions, don’t you think?

Take this guy: will he always wear a tie? Even in the heat of the afternoon Cambridge sun?





Probably.

The day ends with grit. I mean grits. I mean both.

…heavenly corn grits with blueberries, poached peach pureé and lavender ice cream.

Now, if I could only have the daughters living within an hour’s drive of home, life would be so good…

from Cambridge: success, ltd.

Eventually I can do it. I can figure out how to drill in fasteners into tough walls. How to work blinds into uneven window frames. I can.

It’s easier to drive a nail through a brick wall than to change habits and dispositions, don’t you think?

Take this guy: will he always wear a tie? Even in the heat of the afternoon Cambridge sun?





Probably.

The day ends with grit. I mean grits. I mean both.

…heavenly corn grits with blueberries, poached peach pureé and lavender ice cream.

Now, if I could only have the daughters living within an hour’s drive of home, life would be so good…

from Cambridge: squash, lobsters and spires

I cross campus again and again. Always, there is the temptation to take a photo of the white spire against a blue sky. A classic for this place.





Less of a classic, but equally pleasing is the Farmer's Market. Also on campus. Just a few stalls, but a nice selection of fall foods. In the late afternoon sun.









Then, in the evening, I succumb to the New England temptation: a lobster roll with fries and slaw. I'm a sucker for it. And this one is pretty near perfect. How can one not love it here...

from Cambridge: squash, lobsters and spires

I cross campus again and again. Always, there is the temptation to take a photo of the white spire against a blue sky. A classic for this place.





Less of a classic, but equally pleasing is the Farmer's Market. Also on campus. Just a few stalls, but a nice selection of fall foods. In the late afternoon sun.









Then, in the evening, I succumb to the New England temptation: a lobster roll with fries and slaw. I'm a sucker for it. And this one is pretty near perfect. How can one not love it here...

from Cambridge: 'spires

Inspire, aspire, perspire, I’ve seen it all on this day.

Without truck, I am left to run errands on foot. Screw wont go in. Get drill bit from hardware store. Not big enough. Return for another. Sweat as I work brackets into the hardwood frames. All the while, hanging on a hot cellphone which is suffering from overuse. Ikea, you are not user friendly.

But, as the apartment of the young little thing (aka daughter) takes shape, I can see her there, through the Boston seasons. Third one in our family of four to get a law degree (all the more remarkable since, before myself attending law school, I don’t think I had ever even met a lawyer; it wasn't a profession manyof us contemplated back in the Poland of the sixties and seventies).

Her apartment is just at the edge of campus, but in a neighborhood that I like. Her blocks have an elementary school, a corner park, a community garden.

Still, you can’t hide from Harvard, not this close to campus. The café up toward Porter Square is so lovely, but, before the semester even starts, it looks dangerously like a classroom, all “desks” facing forward, all “students” focused more on what their reading than on each other, the food, or the prettiness of the day outside.




A few more days of Cambridge. Of building and setting up and even maybe of reading texts together – she hers, me mine. The summer slips into fall without anyone even noticing.

from Cambridge: 'spires

Inspire, aspire, perspire, I’ve seen it all on this day.

Without truck, I am left to run errands on foot. Screw wont go in. Get drill bit from hardware store. Not big enough. Return for another. Sweat as I work brackets into the hardwood frames. All the while, hanging on a hot cellphone which is suffering from overuse. Ikea, you are not user friendly.

But, as the apartment of the young little thing (aka daughter) takes shape, I can see her there, through the Boston seasons. Third one in our family of four to get a law degree (all the more remarkable since, before myself attending law school, I don’t think I had ever even met a lawyer; it wasn't a profession manyof us contemplated back in the Poland of the sixties and seventies).

Her apartment is just at the edge of campus, but in a neighborhood that I like. Her blocks have an elementary school, a corner park, a community garden.

Still, you can’t hide from Harvard, not this close to campus. The café up toward Porter Square is so lovely, but, before the semester even starts, it looks dangerously like a classroom, all “desks” facing forward, all “students” focused more on what their reading than on each other, the food, or the prettiness of the day outside.




A few more days of Cambridge. Of building and setting up and even maybe of reading texts together – she hers, me mine. The summer slips into fall without anyone even noticing.

from Cambridge: day one

It has been suggested that I may do well with a get to know Cambridge kind of day. You know, one with a solid brunch and a few pokes here and there to get a sense of the place.

My previous visits here have always been very goal directed. This one, too, has an agenda. It includes (for today) getting the truck unloaded, finding a Home Depot and returning the truck to its home base somewhere in the bowels of the city.

Oh, sure, I found plenty of stellar moments. Like locating the farmer’s market just outside our (hotel) door. Most markets I have gone to, outside Madison, seem shoddy little things, where abundance translates to a few bins of this or that. But the Cambridge one was bursting with good stuff. So how can you not love a day that starts with a look at these?





And, too, Cambridge has cool alleys and side streets. Ones like this:





Then, on the other hand, there are the scenes that cause you to wince at the juxtaposition of it all. You can’t miss them here. Like this one:




Not to forget though, I am here to be helpful, so my camera rests for significant portions of the day as I unload, wipe down, install. I figure it’s the last of the big moves for me. May as well go out with a bang. Have to maintain my reputation as being the one who can lift over and beyond what you would imagine. Hearty Polish peasant stock, you know.

from Cambridge: day one

It has been suggested that I may do well with a get to know Cambridge kind of day. You know, one with a solid brunch and a few pokes here and there to get a sense of the place.

My previous visits here have always been very goal directed. This one, too, has an agenda. It includes (for today) getting the truck unloaded, finding a Home Depot and returning the truck to its home base somewhere in the bowels of the city.

Oh, sure, I found plenty of stellar moments. Like locating the farmer’s market just outside our (hotel) door. Most markets I have gone to, outside Madison, seem shoddy little things, where abundance translates to a few bins of this or that. But the Cambridge one was bursting with good stuff. So how can you not love a day that starts with a look at these?





And, too, Cambridge has cool alleys and side streets. Ones like this:





Then, on the other hand, there are the scenes that cause you to wince at the juxtaposition of it all. You can’t miss them here. Like this one:




Not to forget though, I am here to be helpful, so my camera rests for significant portions of the day as I unload, wipe down, install. I figure it’s the last of the big moves for me. May as well go out with a bang. Have to maintain my reputation as being the one who can lift over and beyond what you would imagine. Hearty Polish peasant stock, you know.

road trip! (finalé)

Well now.

Well now!

That was a road trip to end all road trips.

I had it all this day – 800 miles of traffic, non traffic, rainy skies, clear skies, stormy skies, STORMY SKIES, so stormy, more lightening crisscrossing the skies than I’d ever seen in the space of a day. A week. A year! I swear!

800 miles with no food, bad food, super bad nothing food.

... of getting lost (how can you get lost following just one road across the country???? – hi, Ed? could you please google…). Of realizing that we set out too late (shouldn’t have watched the motel movie last night, shouldn’t have posted, should have been up at the crack of dawn). Of road construction. Of parking lots that do not like truck drivers (why do we have to park five miles away from the rest stop?).

Of New York state vineyards, in colors that I cannot describe. Setting sun colors (for at the time, there was, briefly, a sun).

I must return here to the storms: oftentimes, we were fooled into thinking we were done with them, but we never were, not to the end. Such downpours, such angry heavens. Such lightening!

…Of foxes darting out in front, of music, of rainbows, and even of fireworks, somewhere, randomly south of Albany.

We pulled into Cambridge at midnight. With a sigh of relief. And a huge smile.

What a hell trip. Loved every minute of it.

(just one photo,shot from the right side of the speeding truck: an optimistic little number, with skies of blue and grapes of gold)

road trip! (finalé)

Well now.

Well now!

That was a road trip to end all road trips.

I had it all this day – 800 miles of traffic, non traffic, rainy skies, clear skies, stormy skies, STORMY SKIES, so stormy, more lightening crisscrossing the skies than I’d ever seen in the space of a day. A week. A year! I swear!

800 miles with no food, bad food, super bad nothing food.

... of getting lost (how can you get lost following just one road across the country???? – hi, Ed? could you please google…). Of realizing that we set out too late (shouldn’t have watched the motel movie last night, shouldn’t have posted, should have been up at the crack of dawn). Of road construction. Of parking lots that do not like truck drivers (why do we have to park five miles away from the rest stop?).

Of New York state vineyards, in colors that I cannot describe. Setting sun colors (for at the time, there was, briefly, a sun).

I must return here to the storms: oftentimes, we were fooled into thinking we were done with them, but we never were, not to the end. Such downpours, such angry heavens. Such lightening!

…Of foxes darting out in front, of music, of rainbows, and even of fireworks, somewhere, randomly south of Albany.

We pulled into Cambridge at midnight. With a sigh of relief. And a huge smile.

What a hell trip. Loved every minute of it.

(just one photo,shot from the right side of the speeding truck: an optimistic little number, with skies of blue and grapes of gold)

road trip! cont’d

In Chicago: packing, lifting, stacking, carrying down to the curb. Finally, furniture and daughter, loaded in. Ready to go.

Wow, is it noon already?

Get on the Kennedy heading south and east.

Misleading first minutes:





Reality: worst traffic issues ever. Time spent driving from north Chicago to south Chicago: 3 hrs 50 mins.

There’s a sign saying trucks have to stick to the two right lanes.
I’m not a truck! I have two axels.
You are a truck.
Damn.

The truckers’ lane is at a standstill.

Cars edge in, truckers stand still. We are standing still.

For five minutes, let me not be a truck.


Books on tape!
Computer gets plugged in, selections are made.

Can’t hear a blasted word. The road, the truck, they’re all loud. The CDs are quiet.

We switch to music.

Finally. We lose the traffic and pick up speed in Indiana. Ha ha, ryan, in the comments said Indiana has great storms. We have blue sky, ha ha.





You know what? That’s not a clear blue, that’s a storm blue.

The rain comes, Thunder. Lightening. Whoa, need to slow down. The friendly skies are back in Chicago. Behind us.





We are chasing the storms.
By Toledo, we’re ready to quit for the night.

Road food!
A glass of wine, may I please have a glass of wine?
I’ll find out for you. People don’t normally ask for wine here.


Highway 90: it makes it’s way from my home in Madison, straight to Cambridge. I’ve done this trip more times than I care to remember.

This time, it came with storms.

And with a rainbow. No photo this time, but trust me. A rainbow.

Road trip!

road trip! cont’d

In Chicago: packing, lifting, stacking, carrying down to the curb. Finally, furniture and daughter, loaded in. Ready to go.

Wow, is it noon already?

Get on the Kennedy heading south and east.

Misleading first minutes:





Reality: worst traffic issues ever. Time spent driving from north Chicago to south Chicago: 3 hrs 50 mins.

There’s a sign saying trucks have to stick to the two right lanes.
I’m not a truck! I have two axels.
You are a truck.
Damn.

The truckers’ lane is at a standstill.

Cars edge in, truckers stand still. We are standing still.

For five minutes, let me not be a truck.


Books on tape!
Computer gets plugged in, selections are made.

Can’t hear a blasted word. The road, the truck, they’re all loud. The CDs are quiet.

We switch to music.

Finally. We lose the traffic and pick up speed in Indiana. Ha ha, ryan, in the comments said Indiana has great storms. We have blue sky, ha ha.





You know what? That’s not a clear blue, that’s a storm blue.

The rain comes, Thunder. Lightening. Whoa, need to slow down. The friendly skies are back in Chicago. Behind us.





We are chasing the storms.
By Toledo, we’re ready to quit for the night.

Road food!
A glass of wine, may I please have a glass of wine?
I’ll find out for you. People don’t normally ask for wine here.


Highway 90: it makes it’s way from my home in Madison, straight to Cambridge. I’ve done this trip more times than I care to remember.

This time, it came with storms.

And with a rainbow. No photo this time, but trust me. A rainbow.

Road trip!

road trip

It is my sixth move this year. Let me clarify: it is the sixth time that I am assisting with a someone’s move this year (one of the assists was to myself, you know, to get to the condo).

But this one is no ordinary, down a few blocks kind of move. It's to digs out on the East Coast. After surveying the options, it was determined that the cheapest and the most reliable alternative was to have me me (me!) drive a truck to the final destination – Cambridge, MA.

So, late this afternoon, I set out. Just to Chicago today. No easy feat!

I hit the storm extravaganza of the year. Lightening, downpours, winds… Downed trees, flooded streets, really – it was a mess out there. And in that mess you could find me, bravely edging forward.

Roadtrip!

By the time I got to Chicago, I knew that boredom would not be the problem for this particular journey. No indeed, survival in the face of storms, power outages and downpours, would be the goal of the days ahead.

And if I am going to go -- you know, be done in by forces of nature and global warming, let me at least record my own demise. Here you have it – scenes from the first in a series of days devoted to trucking across this great big nation.

Roadtrip!!!



clouds ahead




downpour




flashing and pouring




flooding

road trip

It is my sixth move this year. Let me clarify: it is the sixth time that I am assisting with a someone’s move this year (one of the assists was to myself, you know, to get to the condo).

But this one is no ordinary, down a few blocks kind of move. It's to digs out on the East Coast. After surveying the options, it was determined that the cheapest and the most reliable alternative was to have me me (me!) drive a truck to the final destination – Cambridge, MA.

So, late this afternoon, I set out. Just to Chicago today. No easy feat!

I hit the storm extravaganza of the year. Lightening, downpours, winds… Downed trees, flooded streets, really – it was a mess out there. And in that mess you could find me, bravely edging forward.

Roadtrip!

By the time I got to Chicago, I knew that boredom would not be the problem for this particular journey. No indeed, survival in the face of storms, power outages and downpours, would be the goal of the days ahead.

And if I am going to go -- you know, be done in by forces of nature and global warming, let me at least record my own demise. Here you have it – scenes from the first in a series of days devoted to trucking across this great big nation.

Roadtrip!!!



clouds ahead




downpour




flashing and pouring




flooding

ode to the potato

Boiled, then served with butter and dill. Pan fried. Taken from the field and buried in a fire on the meadow. In soups. With sour milk on the side.

Staples of the Polish diet of my childhood.

And now? Rosti – shredded and pan-baked, sprinkled with fontina cheese and scallions. Sliced thinly and fried, sprinkled with sea salt. Nuked in a microwave for 8 minutes. Mashed, with roasted garlic and basil. Mixed with flour and rolled into gnocchi.

Or, a simple favorite: purple, organic, cut in halves, baked at a high temp on a sheet with olive oil, sprinkled with sea salt. Munched with a glass of chilled Burgundy or rosé, naturally.

This morning’s farmer’s market at Hilldale had the usual – good foods, dedicated vendors. And kids doing cute things. Oh, and don’t forget the women, who sit all morning long, putting flowers into tight bunches, brimming with the reds of late August. Perfect place, perfect time to daydream.









But what caught my heart today was this stand, with the organic potato guy’s crates of colorful spuds.

You a photographer? (It’s all relative, isn’t it? I mean: a camera in hand makes one a photographer, no?)
Yes…
Here, let me make it nicer for you.

He bites off a potato half and displays the vivid purple inside.









Obviously today’s post will have to be about potatoes.

Purple potatoes, baked in olive oil, sprinkled with sea salt from the Camargue and farmer’s market peppercorns. Served with steamed sweet corn, picked this morning, I’m told. Buttered with chive butter if you wish. But I like it plain. With a glass of chilled Burgundy. Okay, rosé.