undulating fields

By three in the afternoon I was still in pajama bottoms. My project of switching to a MacBook and to the newest version of Photoshop was stalled. Photos were getting lost, egos were getting bruised.

One hour later not much had changed and so I set out for a farewell spin. No no, I had no intention of ending it over a bungled computer setup. I just wanted to give a solid wave to February (and therefore winter). To note the passing of months (and therefore, in this case, seasons). The ground is frozen, but in that miraculous way of a receding February, the land looks naked and ready for… something better.





Gorgeous. And quiet. Gold streaks and long shadows spreading slowly over the land to the left, to the right.










Who says it’s tough to be in Wisconsin in February?

undulating fields

By three in the afternoon I was still in pajama bottoms. My project of switching to a MacBook and to the newest version of Photoshop was stalled. Photos were getting lost, egos were getting bruised.

One hour later not much had changed and so I set out for a farewell spin. No no, I had no intention of ending it over a bungled computer setup. I just wanted to give a solid wave to February (and therefore winter). To note the passing of months (and therefore, in this case, seasons). The ground is frozen, but in that miraculous way of a receding February, the land looks naked and ready for… something better.





Gorgeous. And quiet. Gold streaks and long shadows spreading slowly over the land to the left, to the right.










Who says it’s tough to be in Wisconsin in February?

waiting

Two weeks have passed since I filled out papers and put down a check to get the refinancing going for my condo. Nothing. I’ve heard nothing since.

I call my loan officer, Erin. You remember Erin? She had the magnetic toy in her office? Ed played with it?

Erin is not with us anymore…
WHAT??? She promised she’d be around, servicing my loan in much the same way someone would pledge to service my lawn! We talked kids and neighborhoods, I introduced her to Ed, for God’s sake! What happened???
I’m sorry, we cannot reveal personnel matters…

Erin, where are you??? What did you do???

Don’t worry, your application will be well taken care of.
Bullshit. I haven’t heard from anyone since Erin left town. Not from anyone.



I paid good money to have my new Apple laptop delivered today. Why? Because I have a relatively calm week-end. I want to use it to make the big switch to the little Mac. But I learn that storms have interfered. My delivery is being delayed.

I wait patiently for the next truck. Oh, UPS, I love you so! The Mac est arrivee! I promise: my March 1st post will be on the little Apple.



My office neighbor tells me that this winter has pushed her over to dreams of moving to Florida. My neighbor is five years older than me. I wonder if there ever will be a winter that will push me over to dream of moving to Florida.



I wait at the bus stop in searing cold. The winds lash out at me with brutal force. Finally, I get on the number 38.
Why are you turning here? You don’t go my way, do you?
You’d think I’d learn the numbers and schedules by now, but no. I get off and walk back to the beginning, where again, I wait.



In the evening, Ed and I are to meet someone for dinner. That someone is freshly in love and I warn Ed to behave. It’s pointless advice. Ed is Ed. Telling him to be one way is ridiculous. He’ll always be himself.

I arrive early. I want to put my name on the list for a table. I sit and watch the sliver of the moon grow bigger (I swear!)… I sip a glass of rosé and smile at the kid just a few paces down. He likes taking in the bar scene of the local bistro. So do I.




UPDATE: I should explain for those not accustomed to "Ed & me" stories: Asking Ed to behave means asking him to don the shoes of a socially enthusiastic person. I have a social persona. Ed is just Ed. Most always.

waiting

Two weeks have passed since I filled out papers and put down a check to get the refinancing going for my condo. Nothing. I’ve heard nothing since.

I call my loan officer, Erin. You remember Erin? She had the magnetic toy in her office? Ed played with it?

Erin is not with us anymore…
WHAT??? She promised she’d be around, servicing my loan in much the same way someone would pledge to service my lawn! We talked kids and neighborhoods, I introduced her to Ed, for God’s sake! What happened???
I’m sorry, we cannot reveal personnel matters…

Erin, where are you??? What did you do???

Don’t worry, your application will be well taken care of.
Bullshit. I haven’t heard from anyone since Erin left town. Not from anyone.



I paid good money to have my new Apple laptop delivered today. Why? Because I have a relatively calm week-end. I want to use it to make the big switch to the little Mac. But I learn that storms have interfered. My delivery is being delayed.

I wait patiently for the next truck. Oh, UPS, I love you so! The Mac est arrivee! I promise: my March 1st post will be on the little Apple.



My office neighbor tells me that this winter has pushed her over to dreams of moving to Florida. My neighbor is five years older than me. I wonder if there ever will be a winter that will push me over to dream of moving to Florida.



I wait at the bus stop in searing cold. The winds lash out at me with brutal force. Finally, I get on the number 38.
Why are you turning here? You don’t go my way, do you?
You’d think I’d learn the numbers and schedules by now, but no. I get off and walk back to the beginning, where again, I wait.



In the evening, Ed and I are to meet someone for dinner. That someone is freshly in love and I warn Ed to behave. It’s pointless advice. Ed is Ed. Telling him to be one way is ridiculous. He’ll always be himself.

I arrive early. I want to put my name on the list for a table. I sit and watch the sliver of the moon grow bigger (I swear!)… I sip a glass of rosé and smile at the kid just a few paces down. He likes taking in the bar scene of the local bistro. So do I.




UPDATE: I should explain for those not accustomed to "Ed & me" stories: Asking Ed to behave means asking him to don the shoes of a socially enthusiastic person. I have a social persona. Ed is just Ed. Most always.

choices

Three and a half years ago, when I was on match.com, I received emails in one day from two people. One wrote suggesting we get together over a glass of fine wine. He understood that I liked wine and he offered to treat me to a glass of the best in Madison. I said no.

Instead, I spent an afternoon getting to know Ed.

Yesterday he and I shopped for wine at Trader Joe’s (don’t you like this Chilean Chardonnay? $3.99!). Today, Ed lost himself in the Bucky Book of coupons. I buy the book each year from students who do fundraisers (okay, this year I got Ed to buy it) and typically it never pays for itself – that’s how little we use it. But this year, oh, this year is different.

Ed has discovered the community of coupon traders over at Craig’s List.

He flips through the Bucky pages. This one wants the flower store and a car wash. She would like all the PDQ cappuccinos. Do you think two games of golf are equal to one free dinner? Do you trade coupons by their number or by their dollar value?

Outside, it’s raining. Hard. My office neighbor tells me – it’s atmospheric, isn’t it? A friend writes on my facebook wall – looking forward to your weather post. I get thoroughly wet on my run down the hill for an espresso.





I’m buying a new computer tonight. The rain is flooding Madison streets and pavements. I finally chose a new laptop.

choices

Three and a half years ago, when I was on match.com, I received emails in one day from two people. One wrote suggesting we get together over a glass of fine wine. He understood that I liked wine and he offered to treat me to a glass of the best in Madison. I said no.

Instead, I spent an afternoon getting to know Ed.

Yesterday he and I shopped for wine at Trader Joe’s (don’t you like this Chilean Chardonnay? $3.99!). Today, Ed lost himself in the Bucky Book of coupons. I buy the book each year from students who do fundraisers (okay, this year I got Ed to buy it) and typically it never pays for itself – that’s how little we use it. But this year, oh, this year is different.

Ed has discovered the community of coupon traders over at Craig’s List.

He flips through the Bucky pages. This one wants the flower store and a car wash. She would like all the PDQ cappuccinos. Do you think two games of golf are equal to one free dinner? Do you trade coupons by their number or by their dollar value?

Outside, it’s raining. Hard. My office neighbor tells me – it’s atmospheric, isn’t it? A friend writes on my facebook wall – looking forward to your weather post. I get thoroughly wet on my run down the hill for an espresso.





I’m buying a new computer tonight. The rain is flooding Madison streets and pavements. I finally chose a new laptop.

café thoughts

It’s not unusual to get cold days now. Or sunny days. Or wintry mix days. Or blizzards. Or, to get a reading on your balcony thermometer of 69.3 (true, said thermometer is catching a bit of the afternoon sun at the moment; it’s really in the mid-forties). But what’s insane is the volatile swing between all the above in the space of days.

And so, as a result, you’re happy, you’re discouraged, you’re wistful, disgusted, enchanted – like in a constant mood swing of a terribly troubled person.

Virginia may be for lovers; Wisconsin? Damned if I know. Maybe for those who love a wild ride.


(today: shops placed buckets of flowers outside)

café thoughts

It’s not unusual to get cold days now. Or sunny days. Or wintry mix days. Or blizzards. Or, to get a reading on your balcony thermometer of 69.3 (true, said thermometer is catching a bit of the afternoon sun at the moment; it’s really in the mid-forties). But what’s insane is the volatile swing between all the above in the space of days.

And so, as a result, you’re happy, you’re discouraged, you’re wistful, disgusted, enchanted – like in a constant mood swing of a terribly troubled person.

Virginia may be for lovers; Wisconsin? Damned if I know. Maybe for those who love a wild ride.


(today: shops placed buckets of flowers outside)

still thinking about love…

…and how it manifests itself for people.

I head down to the bus stop. A young pair scoots in front of me. They're holding hands. You can’t really see her face here – she’d almost passed by the time I whipped out the camera, but can you at least sense the beam?





At home I listen to Fiorella Mannoia. I picked up her CD in Florence and have since shared it with my family and Ed. (The former loved it, the latter – well, he can’t quite feed his soul into it.)

My phone is ringing. A friend is talking of a love interest of another friend.

Love. In February, it seems like it’s a tease, a terrible tease, there to torment, without promise, without respect.

And yet, you see this pair walking together, you have a coffee with a friend and listen to her explode with love, you turn on the Fiorella CD once again and the tragic elements recede. Spring love. Love born of spring. Not any of my loves, but love nonetheless. Real and forever after. Or, for as long as you want it to be real.

still thinking about love…

…and how it manifests itself for people.

I head down to the bus stop. A young pair scoots in front of me. They're holding hands. You can’t really see her face here – she’d almost passed by the time I whipped out the camera, but can you at least sense the beam?





At home I listen to Fiorella Mannoia. I picked up her CD in Florence and have since shared it with my family and Ed. (The former loved it, the latter – well, he can’t quite feed his soul into it.)

My phone is ringing. A friend is talking of a love interest of another friend.

Love. In February, it seems like it’s a tease, a terrible tease, there to torment, without promise, without respect.

And yet, you see this pair walking together, you have a coffee with a friend and listen to her explode with love, you turn on the Fiorella CD once again and the tragic elements recede. Spring love. Love born of spring. Not any of my loves, but love nonetheless. Real and forever after. Or, for as long as you want it to be real.

signs of spring, signs of love

Surely this is a good sign? On my condo balcony this morning, despite the persistent chill, there are signs of spring love:


Here I am! Look at me!





I’m coming!





Wow. Oh, my God. You're so beautiful!





Sweet little one, don’t be shy…





Come closer. That’s better! Kiss me...




Love is, like spring, so beautiful to experience, or even just to watch, as it unfolds before you...

signs of spring, signs of love

Surely this is a good sign? On my condo balcony this morning, despite the persistent chill, there are signs of spring love:


Here I am! Look at me!





I’m coming!





Wow. Oh, my God. You're so beautiful!





Sweet little one, don’t be shy…





Come closer. That’s better! Kiss me...




Love is, like spring, so beautiful to experience, or even just to watch, as it unfolds before you...

river walk

Is the Mississippi frozen now?

I know Ed is remembering our trip up to Quebec several Februarys ago. On the list of favorite sounds for him is the sound of a ferry pushing ice on a river overwhelmed by chunks of frozen water.

We walk along the edge of this most American of all our rivers and we fight off the truly arctic blast of air. Here, in St. Paul, the body of water does indeed appear to churning southwards under a layer of ice and snow.





I suppose you could even walk from one bank to the other, except few would dare. It is the immense Mississippi after all. Besides, in places, you see this:





As we walk along the ridge, whipped by the winds that race from one shore to the other, I think that I can tolerate just one last day of pure winter, but that’s all. I am more than ready to embrace the idea of daffodils. Or at least crocuses. Enough of the snow covered spruces. Beautiful, but so yesterday.





We eat lunch at one of the numerous low key/great food places in the city. Our hosts know them all, I think.





Neither is a Minnesota native, but they’ve taken on the job of introducing the state and their city to us southerners. God, that feels good – “us southerners” – as if, when we return home, we get to reenter a truly southern climate!

We are given a driving tour of the city of St Paul and then we retreat to their home, where Ed quite comfortably falls into the shoes of a houseguest again. (Or rather, takes off the shoes and climbs back under the covers to watch DVDs recommended by our ever thoughtful hosts.)

Me, I’ve been a houseguest a lot in my life. I admit it -- I’m not especially a good one. I enjoy too much not having the worry of fixing meals and making someone else feel comfortable and I can hardly tear myself away from sitting down and doing nothing. I offer help in dinner preparations only halfheartedly and I am thrilled when my wimpy offerings are turned down.

Later, I retreat under the covers too and there I remain wonderfully unfrazzled, worrying about nothing, not work, not condo refinancing, not even the bus ride home tomorrow. After all, we could very well have a great driver, who loves his job and tries to keep the wheels of the bus on the strip of road intended for driving. It's possible. And in any case, we should be off the highways, in our southern city of Madison before dark.

river walk

Is the Mississippi frozen now?

I know Ed is remembering our trip up to Quebec several Februarys ago. On the list of favorite sounds for him is the sound of a ferry pushing ice on a river overwhelmed by chunks of frozen water.

We walk along the edge of this most American of all our rivers and we fight off the truly arctic blast of air. Here, in St. Paul, the body of water does indeed appear to churning southwards under a layer of ice and snow.





I suppose you could even walk from one bank to the other, except few would dare. It is the immense Mississippi after all. Besides, in places, you see this:





As we walk along the ridge, whipped by the winds that race from one shore to the other, I think that I can tolerate just one last day of pure winter, but that’s all. I am more than ready to embrace the idea of daffodils. Or at least crocuses. Enough of the snow covered spruces. Beautiful, but so yesterday.





We eat lunch at one of the numerous low key/great food places in the city. Our hosts know them all, I think.





Neither is a Minnesota native, but they’ve taken on the job of introducing the state and their city to us southerners. God, that feels good – “us southerners” – as if, when we return home, we get to reenter a truly southern climate!

We are given a driving tour of the city of St Paul and then we retreat to their home, where Ed quite comfortably falls into the shoes of a houseguest again. (Or rather, takes off the shoes and climbs back under the covers to watch DVDs recommended by our ever thoughtful hosts.)

Me, I’ve been a houseguest a lot in my life. I admit it -- I’m not especially a good one. I enjoy too much not having the worry of fixing meals and making someone else feel comfortable and I can hardly tear myself away from sitting down and doing nothing. I offer help in dinner preparations only halfheartedly and I am thrilled when my wimpy offerings are turned down.

Later, I retreat under the covers too and there I remain wonderfully unfrazzled, worrying about nothing, not work, not condo refinancing, not even the bus ride home tomorrow. After all, we could very well have a great driver, who loves his job and tries to keep the wheels of the bus on the strip of road intended for driving. It's possible. And in any case, we should be off the highways, in our southern city of Madison before dark.

up north

The bus to St Paul was one hour late picking us up. This would not be hugely significant, except for the fact that waiting at the bus stop on a day where the temps were well below freezing was bracing. I did a little side step and chanted this is good for me most of the hour.

I may have otherwise bonded with all the students waiting with us (Madison and Minneapolis are quite the student exchange towns), but I forgot to be friendly as I considered the possibility of freezing at the Dutch Mill park & ride. Many bragged of past multi-hour waits and the prospect of competing in the future in this kind of exchange was frightening.

When the bus did come, I was sure to get on right away. Why go on a long bus ride with your Occasional Traveling Companion if you cannot sit next to him? The bus was already half full with weary travelers from Chicago, but being near the head of the line (it helps traveling without luggage – Ed and I are good at that) landed us seats together in the front row.

Unfortunately, I decided this particular driver needed help and so I took on the task of driving right along with him. When he spoke on the cell phone (extensively), I made sure to watch out for cars. When he chose to steer with his elbows (frequently), I sat taught, ready to take over and move the bus in the right direction should the need arise.

Halfway to the Twin Cities we paused at a truck stop. He said this was a lunch break (clearly the man suffered jetlag, among other things), and that we should use the next twenty minutes to eat at Wendy’s. The entire bus emptied out and came back with French fries and such. I stayed behind and remembered what it felt like when I went to Catholic camp in Poland and everyone went to church while I stayed at the campsite minding the tents. I’m not saying that Wendy’s is like church, although surprisingly, for the purposes of this post, the analogy holds.

I thought now how easy it would be to jump into the driver’s seat and pull away when they were all gone.

The driver took more than twice the allotted (by him) time to purchase his own snacks and so we were, in the end, quite late pulling into Minneapolis. My friends were waiting for us. It was snowing and I can only hope that sitting in a car and watching flakes come down was, for them, sort of romantic.





We spent wonderful moments at the table eating and drinking and talking and I hardly noticed when Ed slipped out and retired upstairs. In any case, they know Ed well enough to understand that unusual periods of retirement are part of the package,

This morning, while the house slept, I looked out to see what Minnesota is like on a February 21st. You’d expect tall conifers and white snow, wouldn’t you? Hmm.

up north

The bus to St Paul was one hour late picking us up. This would not be hugely significant, except for the fact that waiting at the bus stop on a day where the temps were well below freezing was bracing. I did a little side step and chanted this is good for me most of the hour.

I may have otherwise bonded with all the students waiting with us (Madison and Minneapolis are quite the student exchange towns), but I forgot to be friendly as I considered the possibility of freezing at the Dutch Mill park & ride. Many bragged of past multi-hour waits and the prospect of competing in the future in this kind of exchange was frightening.

When the bus did come, I was sure to get on right away. Why go on a long bus ride with your Occasional Traveling Companion if you cannot sit next to him? The bus was already half full with weary travelers from Chicago, but being near the head of the line (it helps traveling without luggage – Ed and I are good at that) landed us seats together in the front row.

Unfortunately, I decided this particular driver needed help and so I took on the task of driving right along with him. When he spoke on the cell phone (extensively), I made sure to watch out for cars. When he chose to steer with his elbows (frequently), I sat taught, ready to take over and move the bus in the right direction should the need arise.

Halfway to the Twin Cities we paused at a truck stop. He said this was a lunch break (clearly the man suffered jetlag, among other things), and that we should use the next twenty minutes to eat at Wendy’s. The entire bus emptied out and came back with French fries and such. I stayed behind and remembered what it felt like when I went to Catholic camp in Poland and everyone went to church while I stayed at the campsite minding the tents. I’m not saying that Wendy’s is like church, although surprisingly, for the purposes of this post, the analogy holds.

I thought now how easy it would be to jump into the driver’s seat and pull away when they were all gone.

The driver took more than twice the allotted (by him) time to purchase his own snacks and so we were, in the end, quite late pulling into Minneapolis. My friends were waiting for us. It was snowing and I can only hope that sitting in a car and watching flakes come down was, for them, sort of romantic.





We spent wonderful moments at the table eating and drinking and talking and I hardly noticed when Ed slipped out and retired upstairs. In any case, they know Ed well enough to understand that unusual periods of retirement are part of the package,

This morning, while the house slept, I looked out to see what Minnesota is like on a February 21st. You’d expect tall conifers and white snow, wouldn’t you? Hmm.

ramblin'

The readings on my new thermometer are typical February material: low twenties. I don’t quite remember why it is that I chose a February week-end to visit my good good friend who lives in a place that is even colder than Madison (St. Paul). Probably I felt that the time between visits had been too long. Why not catch a bus… why not… Oh, to pack a bag and head out the door!

[I do not post youtube links on Ocean; I think it’s too much to expect readers to spend more than a minute here. But, so long as I am, this week, in a Paxton-Seeger nostalgia mood, let me suggest this clip. Something about ramblin' bringing joy, even if it kills you. Admittedly, that's more drama than I'm looking for in my travels, but you get the point.]





And so off I go, and I’m taking Ed with me.

I don’t think Ed has ever been a house guest (in the proper meaning of that term) and I have some (alright, great) trepidation about him fitting in the role wrinkle-free. But then, Ed does not do anything wrinkle-free (he has an iron, but he uses it for melting wax) and one can’t shy away from trying new venues just because they may lead to outcomes that make you blush.


Maybe I should have posted a link to Hop on the Bus, Gus. We’ll be doing that in a few hours. If all goes well, I'll be back tomorrow on Ocean from a spot on the continent that's about as far from an ocean as you can get in this country. And here's to you, my ramblin' boy... It's a catchy little verse.

ramblin'

The readings on my new thermometer are typical February material: low twenties. I don’t quite remember why it is that I chose a February week-end to visit my good good friend who lives in a place that is even colder than Madison (St. Paul). Probably I felt that the time between visits had been too long. Why not catch a bus… why not… Oh, to pack a bag and head out the door!

[I do not post youtube links on Ocean; I think it’s too much to expect readers to spend more than a minute here. But, so long as I am, this week, in a Paxton-Seeger nostalgia mood, let me suggest this clip. Something about ramblin' bringing joy, even if it kills you. Admittedly, that's more drama than I'm looking for in my travels, but you get the point.]





And so off I go, and I’m taking Ed with me.

I don’t think Ed has ever been a house guest (in the proper meaning of that term) and I have some (alright, great) trepidation about him fitting in the role wrinkle-free. But then, Ed does not do anything wrinkle-free (he has an iron, but he uses it for melting wax) and one can’t shy away from trying new venues just because they may lead to outcomes that make you blush.


Maybe I should have posted a link to Hop on the Bus, Gus. We’ll be doing that in a few hours. If all goes well, I'll be back tomorrow on Ocean from a spot on the continent that's about as far from an ocean as you can get in this country. And here's to you, my ramblin' boy... It's a catchy little verse.

nippy

What can I say. It was cold again. Dismally so. For Ocean readers living in warmer places, I have a few portraits for you: faces of the north.










We hide and hope that it will all go away soon, knowing that "soon" is relative.


Ah well, when the going gets tough (or at least cold), the weak get going. I’d like to say south, but that would be terribly inaccurate. More on where and why tomorrow.

nippy

What can I say. It was cold again. Dismally so. For Ocean readers living in warmer places, I have a few portraits for you: faces of the north.










We hide and hope that it will all go away soon, knowing that "soon" is relative.


Ah well, when the going gets tough (or at least cold), the weak get going. I’d like to say south, but that would be terribly inaccurate. More on where and why tomorrow.

gray area

I shopped for a better mortgage on my condo this afternoon. Erin, representing the lending institution, smiled her way through the interview, but I think she is gunning for a promotion. She maintains a record number of loans processed in her credit union. And she is determined to lend me a mortgage-lending hand.

I brought Ed along because he has a history of telling me after these meetings what I should have done instead. His presence was a security against this.

He fiddled with magnetic 6 millimeter nuts during the fifteen minutes meeting. Erin commented that this was the most popular toy in her office.



Earlier in the day, I presided over appeals of nonresidency determinations at this university. (I caught a very early bus to campus. It was dismally gray out at the bus stop.)





Students sometimes have a hard time understanding how it can be that they are residents for voting and (part time) employment purposes, but not for residency determinations. But, the world is full of such inconsistencies. For property tax purposes, the value of my condo has gone up. For securing a mortgage – probably not. But, I intend to super-clean my condo before the assessor comes around. People are swayed by weird things.


The skies turned colorless and snowflakes fell again. After the interview with the lender, Ed and I drove out randomly, into the country (a mere mile from the office of this top loan officer – that’s Madison for you).

It felt sadly winterish.




We stopped at La Baguette and bought the bread for supper and I was very happy that Madame saw me enter. She waved her hand and smiled in greeting.

gray area

I shopped for a better mortgage on my condo this afternoon. Erin, representing the lending institution, smiled her way through the interview, but I think she is gunning for a promotion. She maintains a record number of loans processed in her credit union. And she is determined to lend me a mortgage-lending hand.

I brought Ed along because he has a history of telling me after these meetings what I should have done instead. His presence was a security against this.

He fiddled with magnetic 6 millimeter nuts during the fifteen minutes meeting. Erin commented that this was the most popular toy in her office.



Earlier in the day, I presided over appeals of nonresidency determinations at this university. (I caught a very early bus to campus. It was dismally gray out at the bus stop.)





Students sometimes have a hard time understanding how it can be that they are residents for voting and (part time) employment purposes, but not for residency determinations. But, the world is full of such inconsistencies. For property tax purposes, the value of my condo has gone up. For securing a mortgage – probably not. But, I intend to super-clean my condo before the assessor comes around. People are swayed by weird things.


The skies turned colorless and snowflakes fell again. After the interview with the lender, Ed and I drove out randomly, into the country (a mere mile from the office of this top loan officer – that’s Madison for you).

It felt sadly winterish.




We stopped at La Baguette and bought the bread for supper and I was very happy that Madame saw me enter. She waved her hand and smiled in greeting.