what I’m up against

I have a friend who is completely oblivious to trends. If a repair tool works, he’ll not upgrade it just because the market offers something sleeker. If a woman can chop cabbage by hand and let her mousy hair hang down her back – why would you want to improve on that?

Modern is not necessarily better. Cheaper is always better.

I ask my friend (okay, I’m talking about Ed, my occasional traveling companion) to help me put up a hook by the shower. He agrees. He brings this tool to get the job done:



What is that?

It works – he’ll tell you.

In the meantime, as he leisurely surveys the spot by the shower door, I am crazily making improvements on my lecture. I haven’t bothered to look decent. My mind is on the class ahead. Ed glances over, mumbles some nicety and snaps this photo.




To him, I looked nice and tussled.


In the late afternoon I visit my man Jason, the brilliant man of color. Hair color. Jason does magic. Jason scrunches his hand here, blows some air there and I leave feeling like I could face the world and hold my own.




Tonight, Ed is coming over for supper. He has professed an interest in recreating a Bittman recipe. He likes Bittman and I’m willing. We’ll be eating chopped cabbage and potatoes. He will dutifully look at Jason’s efforts and make some pleasant remark. Then he’ll pick up his repair tool and work on putting the hook up.

[All this to deflect from what really captured my attention tonight: the debate.]

what I’m up against

I have a friend who is completely oblivious to trends. If a repair tool works, he’ll not upgrade it just because the market offers something sleeker. If a woman can chop cabbage by hand and let her mousy hair hang down her back – why would you want to improve on that?

Modern is not necessarily better. Cheaper is always better.

I ask my friend (okay, I’m talking about Ed, my occasional traveling companion) to help me put up a hook by the shower. He agrees. He brings this tool to get the job done:



What is that?

It works – he’ll tell you.

In the meantime, as he leisurely surveys the spot by the shower door, I am crazily making improvements on my lecture. I haven’t bothered to look decent. My mind is on the class ahead. Ed glances over, mumbles some nicety and snaps this photo.




To him, I looked nice and tussled.


In the late afternoon I visit my man Jason, the brilliant man of color. Hair color. Jason does magic. Jason scrunches his hand here, blows some air there and I leave feeling like I could face the world and hold my own.




Tonight, Ed is coming over for supper. He has professed an interest in recreating a Bittman recipe. He likes Bittman and I’m willing. We’ll be eating chopped cabbage and potatoes. He will dutifully look at Jason’s efforts and make some pleasant remark. Then he’ll pick up his repair tool and work on putting the hook up.

[All this to deflect from what really captured my attention tonight: the debate.]

theft

Wednesday. The middle of the week. The middle of winter. And we're feeling it, here in Wisconsin. I leave the house in the late morning and it's only - 7 F.

Still, there is a charming beauty to it all, especially when a kind soul volunteers to drive me to work. The long way, past landscapes that are an impressionist's image of winter.





In my office, I have some more meetings, student meetings, and then a half hour of peace before my long class of the late afternoon.

I notice the phone is blinking. Funny, no one calls me here. They know better. They email.

A voice telling me I should call my credit card company. What now? I love my credit card company (it's there for me when I need to go places) and it loves me (it charges interest when I go places). I call.

We're just checking a purchase.
Oh that. I travel, I spend money in strange places, what can I say.
Did you make a purchase two hours ago in Laon, France? In an electronics store?
Did I? No, wait, in France, two hours ago? Electronics? No!
Our records indicate that someone swiped your card there.
I have my card here. In Madison.
Is there another?
There is no other.
Hmmm.

I love my credit card company for not believing that I would buy $1500 in electronics in Laon, France. Thank you, credit card company.

But who?
And how?

It is a tough world that we inhabit.

theft

Wednesday. The middle of the week. The middle of winter. And we're feeling it, here in Wisconsin. I leave the house in the late morning and it's only - 7 F.

Still, there is a charming beauty to it all, especially when a kind soul volunteers to drive me to work. The long way, past landscapes that are an impressionist's image of winter.





In my office, I have some more meetings, student meetings, and then a half hour of peace before my long class of the late afternoon.

I notice the phone is blinking. Funny, no one calls me here. They know better. They email.

A voice telling me I should call my credit card company. What now? I love my credit card company (it's there for me when I need to go places) and it loves me (it charges interest when I go places). I call.

We're just checking a purchase.
Oh that. I travel, I spend money in strange places, what can I say.
Did you make a purchase two hours ago in Laon, France? In an electronics store?
Did I? No, wait, in France, two hours ago? Electronics? No!
Our records indicate that someone swiped your card there.
I have my card here. In Madison.
Is there another?
There is no other.
Hmmm.

I love my credit card company for not believing that I would buy $1500 in electronics in Laon, France. Thank you, credit card company.

But who?
And how?

It is a tough world that we inhabit.

from forty four to four

It’s all about The Storm, here in Madison. Monday? All balmy and foggy and March-like. Tuesday morning? All balmy and foggy and March-like. Forty-four outside. And a bleak view out my office window.




Then comes The Warning. Huge storm system WILL PASS THROUGH! Airport will close. Visibility will fall to zero. Temperatures plummeting at the rate of 10 degrees per hour. (Until what?)

Sounds scary.

So I pack my book bag and head home. Anxiously waiting at the ugly (so ugly) bus stop, worrying that the above will hit me straight in the face and send me flying into a freezing hell of sleet, wind, snow and horrific thunder. (They said!)




Home. I slam the door behind me. Safe. Cancel all appointments for the evening. No need to go out. I’ll watch from the inside.

Sure enough, by mid afternoon, the rain turns to this (from the safe haven of behind my window):





And then it stops. Just like that. No thunder, lightening, no zero visibility. None of it.

Except for the cold. We got the cold.

from forty four to four

It’s all about The Storm, here in Madison. Monday? All balmy and foggy and March-like. Tuesday morning? All balmy and foggy and March-like. Forty-four outside. And a bleak view out my office window.




Then comes The Warning. Huge storm system WILL PASS THROUGH! Airport will close. Visibility will fall to zero. Temperatures plummeting at the rate of 10 degrees per hour. (Until what?)

Sounds scary.

So I pack my book bag and head home. Anxiously waiting at the ugly (so ugly) bus stop, worrying that the above will hit me straight in the face and send me flying into a freezing hell of sleet, wind, snow and horrific thunder. (They said!)




Home. I slam the door behind me. Safe. Cancel all appointments for the evening. No need to go out. I’ll watch from the inside.

Sure enough, by mid afternoon, the rain turns to this (from the safe haven of behind my window):





And then it stops. Just like that. No thunder, lightening, no zero visibility. None of it.

Except for the cold. We got the cold.

fishing

Say I had a friend who loved to fish. In the company of others. (I don’t have such a friend: no one close to me fishes with a passion. Or at all.) Would I agree to stand in rubber duds days on end with a pole and a line, waiting for a pull? Or, to sit in a hut on icy Lake Menona and watch my bucket fill with bluegills, crappies and perch (that’s what I’m told fills buckets here)?

Surely I would go along, so long as it wasn’t significantly uncomfortable. Maybe I would request a hut with some heating options, like this one:





And yet, there is this to consider: how far would you go to do something you regard as substantially boring with someone you cared for? Not very far. You are more likely to tolerate boredom when you are young. Very young.

Musings on a winter evening, while preparing fish for dinner.

fishing

Say I had a friend who loved to fish. In the company of others. (I don’t have such a friend: no one close to me fishes with a passion. Or at all.) Would I agree to stand in rubber duds days on end with a pole and a line, waiting for a pull? Or, to sit in a hut on icy Lake Menona and watch my bucket fill with bluegills, crappies and perch (that’s what I’m told fills buckets here)?

Surely I would go along, so long as it wasn’t significantly uncomfortable. Maybe I would request a hut with some heating options, like this one:





And yet, there is this to consider: how far would you go to do something you regard as substantially boring with someone you cared for? Not very far. You are more likely to tolerate boredom when you are young. Very young.

Musings on a winter evening, while preparing fish for dinner.

jumping off a cliff

It’s gone out of fashion – telling your kid “and if your friend jumped off a cliff, would you follow?” – in response to the standard kid plea of “but my friend does it!”, whatever the “it” may be. [In my case, it was biking the streets of New York (“no!”).]

It seems that following the herd is dumb, but ignoring cues from where the herd is grazing is even dumber.

So if my commenters tell me I should bowl, and I should wear a special bowling shirt and I should drink beer while bowling, who am I to ignore the green fertile lands of commenter experience?


Ed and I went bowling this Sunday morning. So full of hope…









Light ball. I need a light ball. I have weak wrists and weaker than weak thumbs.

A glance, to the left, a glance to the right. Oh, I see that there are others looking for light balls.





But the little guys get help!





And still, there are the gutter balls. And tears.




I so understand!



Ed and I start out with placing our balls straight in the gutters. Secretly, I am pleased. I am well matched!

But within four rolls, Ed gets a grip. The man is powerful. I am surprised that when he hits his pins, all pins in all lanes do not fall.





And he becomes accurate. Strike. Split. Shit. I mean, darn. Me, I’m getting weaker. He’s getting stronger.

My pickle shirt isn’t working. Hey, commenters, you told me to wear a shirt! Ed explained that you meant one with words. I have a pickle shirt. I'm wearing it! So what happened??

Oh! The beer. I forgot about the beer.

Do you sell beer before noon?
Of course!
What do you have on tap? (This is one bad question to ask in my home state: there’s too much choice.)
Blue Moon? That sounds cool. What’s it like?
Fruity.
Great! Like having Sunday brunch with a mimosa. Fruity!
(I have never in my entire life had a beer before noon. But, if this is what it takes…)

At first, my game (we’re on the second one now) falters. My wrists are protesting.

But soon, I get out of the gutter. And by the third game, I end with my best: 59!

On the phone with a close one later on, I say: guess what, I got more than half! Fifty nine!
Really? Just that? Hmm.
Wait, this is good, no? I mean, you told me you’re not so hot at this either.
Fifty nine, eh?

jumping off a cliff

It’s gone out of fashion – telling your kid “and if your friend jumped off a cliff, would you follow?” – in response to the standard kid plea of “but my friend does it!”, whatever the “it” may be. [In my case, it was biking the streets of New York (“no!”).]

It seems that following the herd is dumb, but ignoring cues from where the herd is grazing is even dumber.

So if my commenters tell me I should bowl, and I should wear a special bowling shirt and I should drink beer while bowling, who am I to ignore the green fertile lands of commenter experience?


Ed and I went bowling this Sunday morning. So full of hope…









Light ball. I need a light ball. I have weak wrists and weaker than weak thumbs.

A glance, to the left, a glance to the right. Oh, I see that there are others looking for light balls.





But the little guys get help!





And still, there are the gutter balls. And tears.




I so understand!



Ed and I start out with placing our balls straight in the gutters. Secretly, I am pleased. I am well matched!

But within four rolls, Ed gets a grip. The man is powerful. I am surprised that when he hits his pins, all pins in all lanes do not fall.





And he becomes accurate. Strike. Split. Shit. I mean, darn. Me, I’m getting weaker. He’s getting stronger.

My pickle shirt isn’t working. Hey, commenters, you told me to wear a shirt! Ed explained that you meant one with words. I have a pickle shirt. I'm wearing it! So what happened??

Oh! The beer. I forgot about the beer.

Do you sell beer before noon?
Of course!
What do you have on tap? (This is one bad question to ask in my home state: there’s too much choice.)
Blue Moon? That sounds cool. What’s it like?
Fruity.
Great! Like having Sunday brunch with a mimosa. Fruity!
(I have never in my entire life had a beer before noon. But, if this is what it takes…)

At first, my game (we’re on the second one now) falters. My wrists are protesting.

But soon, I get out of the gutter. And by the third game, I end with my best: 59!

On the phone with a close one later on, I say: guess what, I got more than half! Fifty nine!
Really? Just that? Hmm.
Wait, this is good, no? I mean, you told me you’re not so hot at this either.
Fifty nine, eh?

bowling, not alone*

It’s a day for indoor work, yet again. But with breaks.

Movies, yes, of course. Winter movies. Depressing, excellent but horrible movies.

Ed, want to see another?
In a day or two…

Searching for alternatives, Ed proposes bowling. Now, some people do not like engaging in things they are not good at. They like to smell at least the possibility of success. I am one of them. And so I remain quiet.

Ed asks: How about if we just take a look.

We do.

It’s sweet. Saturday. Kids’s day.





So if these little tykes can do this, maybe you can do this?
Maybe.

I have bowled only a handful of times (bowling was an unknown in Poland) and even if there are bumper guards, you can count on my ball jumping lanes and finding a safe haven in an unguarded gutter. Still…Ed is so enthusiastic, so eager. I'm wondering if bowling is to Ed as France is to Nina.

Tomorrow. Let's bowl tomorrow.

To get through January and February (see post below), one has to, I have to, think broadly and acquiesce.

We drive through white fields in gray light. Nothing pulls me toward the outdoors now. Nothing.




Tomorrow, we bowl.

[*it’s a mind spin back to this title.]

bowling, not alone*

It’s a day for indoor work, yet again. But with breaks.

Movies, yes, of course. Winter movies. Depressing, excellent but horrible movies.

Ed, want to see another?
In a day or two…

Searching for alternatives, Ed proposes bowling. Now, some people do not like engaging in things they are not good at. They like to smell at least the possibility of success. I am one of them. And so I remain quiet.

Ed asks: How about if we just take a look.

We do.

It’s sweet. Saturday. Kids’s day.





So if these little tykes can do this, maybe you can do this?
Maybe.

I have bowled only a handful of times (bowling was an unknown in Poland) and even if there are bumper guards, you can count on my ball jumping lanes and finding a safe haven in an unguarded gutter. Still…Ed is so enthusiastic, so eager. I'm wondering if bowling is to Ed as France is to Nina.

Tomorrow. Let's bowl tomorrow.

To get through January and February (see post below), one has to, I have to, think broadly and acquiesce.

We drive through white fields in gray light. Nothing pulls me toward the outdoors now. Nothing.




Tomorrow, we bowl.

[*it’s a mind spin back to this title.]

the long stretch

A colleague one said to me – you should never make any important decisions in February. That month just messes with you.

Can we extend that idea to the end of January?

p.s. Snowscapes are magical. Sometimes. Other times, they are like this (title: “last steps home”):



(can we agree on the word "bleak"?)

the long stretch

A colleague one said to me – you should never make any important decisions in February. That month just messes with you.

Can we extend that idea to the end of January?

p.s. Snowscapes are magical. Sometimes. Other times, they are like this (title: “last steps home”):



(can we agree on the word "bleak"?)

walking home

Do understand that, in all essentials, I am a person who has had a fantastic amount of good fortune. And I know it.

Posts about cold weather and work? Take them in the context of, for the most part, a charmed existence. The hugely unfortunate things that happened to me, happened in ways that didn’t destroy anyone. That’s sheer luck!

I am aware of all this. It’s why I’m not really a good candidate for whiny blogging. It would not be authentic.

Still, it was a cold day, a long day of work, and a cold walk home.

walking home

Do understand that, in all essentials, I am a person who has had a fantastic amount of good fortune. And I know it.

Posts about cold weather and work? Take them in the context of, for the most part, a charmed existence. The hugely unfortunate things that happened to me, happened in ways that didn’t destroy anyone. That’s sheer luck!

I am aware of all this. It’s why I’m not really a good candidate for whiny blogging. It would not be authentic.

Still, it was a cold day, a long day of work, and a cold walk home.

Crowds, cold, work hard, work hard, food.

My day. If yours was bigger, better, richer – go ahead, tell me about it.

Crowds, cold, work hard, work hard, food.

My day. If yours was bigger, better, richer – go ahead, tell me about it.

bus ride

For you, who do not live in an extreme, northern state. This post is for you. It’s about a morning ride in to work.

I check bus schedules. Good. Here’s one at 8:30. Not too far from my front door. The sun’s out, but we’re not in positive digits yet. Brrr.

Darn. The bus isn’t here. Five minutes. Ten minutes. Brrrr.

Cheeks are feeling it, of course. Mouth too.

Ah, there we go. Bus. But wait. It’s a different number. So what. It goes downtown. It’ll do.

Nice and warm inside. Cap removed, gloves off. I look around. Many foreign students. I live not too far from apartments that are favored by an international community of scholars. So many ipods!

I’m getting comfy, but darn, this is a snail’s pace. Exodus of passengers at hospital. Ah – I took the bus that first goes to the hospital. International community knows which bus is theirs. Smart people. As opposed to me. I am taking the long way into work.

Finally. Close to my stop. Oh oh. Bus is in a resting mode. An accident just in front. Seems a car slid into the bus before us. Driver nicely lets us out. But it’s a bit of a walk to the law school. At least ten, fifteen minutes. Up this way:





Finally, in, just minutes before class. Cutting it close? No! That ride was supposed to be 13 minutes long! It was more like 45. Adjustment needed for the future.

Defrost in office briefly, load mug with tea, proceed to class.


P.S. Trader Joe’s roses are a steal. Brighten up your sweetie’s table with these:




Only $7.99 a dozen. Worth it. Takes the mind off of what’s outside.

bus ride

For you, who do not live in an extreme, northern state. This post is for you. It’s about a morning ride in to work.

I check bus schedules. Good. Here’s one at 8:30. Not too far from my front door. The sun’s out, but we’re not in positive digits yet. Brrr.

Darn. The bus isn’t here. Five minutes. Ten minutes. Brrrr.

Cheeks are feeling it, of course. Mouth too.

Ah, there we go. Bus. But wait. It’s a different number. So what. It goes downtown. It’ll do.

Nice and warm inside. Cap removed, gloves off. I look around. Many foreign students. I live not too far from apartments that are favored by an international community of scholars. So many ipods!

I’m getting comfy, but darn, this is a snail’s pace. Exodus of passengers at hospital. Ah – I took the bus that first goes to the hospital. International community knows which bus is theirs. Smart people. As opposed to me. I am taking the long way into work.

Finally. Close to my stop. Oh oh. Bus is in a resting mode. An accident just in front. Seems a car slid into the bus before us. Driver nicely lets us out. But it’s a bit of a walk to the law school. At least ten, fifteen minutes. Up this way:





Finally, in, just minutes before class. Cutting it close? No! That ride was supposed to be 13 minutes long! It was more like 45. Adjustment needed for the future.

Defrost in office briefly, load mug with tea, proceed to class.


P.S. Trader Joe’s roses are a steal. Brighten up your sweetie’s table with these:




Only $7.99 a dozen. Worth it. Takes the mind off of what’s outside.

the red bag

I had one, not too long ago. Bright red. I thought it would look bold. A woman on the move.

But, it was large and at the same time not commodious. So that my camera, for instance, could not be tossed inside.


I spent this day in my office going through mountains of papers, correspondence, etc, so that I could feel fresh and clean for the semester ahead. And I watched the snow fall and it was pretty, in a cold sort of way and because this was a holiday, I saw very few people on Bascom Mall.

Except the students with red bags. The sign of a new semester: red bags.




Not purses, mind you, but bags, filled with books for the classes they are about to take and I thought – red bags do make a statement and it was good that I had mine for the years that I did.




Even though at some point, you have to move beyond just appearing bold. You have to be bold, or else people will see through you.

the red bag

I had one, not too long ago. Bright red. I thought it would look bold. A woman on the move.

But, it was large and at the same time not commodious. So that my camera, for instance, could not be tossed inside.


I spent this day in my office going through mountains of papers, correspondence, etc, so that I could feel fresh and clean for the semester ahead. And I watched the snow fall and it was pretty, in a cold sort of way and because this was a holiday, I saw very few people on Bascom Mall.

Except the students with red bags. The sign of a new semester: red bags.




Not purses, mind you, but bags, filled with books for the classes they are about to take and I thought – red bags do make a statement and it was good that I had mine for the years that I did.




Even though at some point, you have to move beyond just appearing bold. You have to be bold, or else people will see through you.

making do

My state is focused on the football game this evening. Men in green take the mind off of the bitter cold. I tune in for the last five minutes and watch my home state team lose. It is often like that: I don’t care at all about a game, I tune it, I send my vibes of indifference and the team loses.

I’m sorry, Wisconsin.

I didn’t mean it. I am tired from working all day and playing not at all. I watch the sun move from one end of the room to the other. This marks my day. Last week I was taking photos of bees in rosemary bushes. Today, you get this:




My flowering rosemary at home. No bees.

Just before sunset, I take a walk. Past empty chairs and empty tables just outside my building. Poignant, no?





Still, I am not oblivious to the sharp air, the crisp contours, the harsh beauty of it all. How could I be – it is a cold but beautiful evening.




But I am sorry about the Packers. I really do feel homestate loyalty, even if I do hate football.

making do

My state is focused on the football game this evening. Men in green take the mind off of the bitter cold. I tune in for the last five minutes and watch my home state team lose. It is often like that: I don’t care at all about a game, I tune it, I send my vibes of indifference and the team loses.

I’m sorry, Wisconsin.

I didn’t mean it. I am tired from working all day and playing not at all. I watch the sun move from one end of the room to the other. This marks my day. Last week I was taking photos of bees in rosemary bushes. Today, you get this:




My flowering rosemary at home. No bees.

Just before sunset, I take a walk. Past empty chairs and empty tables just outside my building. Poignant, no?





Still, I am not oblivious to the sharp air, the crisp contours, the harsh beauty of it all. How could I be – it is a cold but beautiful evening.




But I am sorry about the Packers. I really do feel homestate loyalty, even if I do hate football.