Ricotta pancakes in her honor

So yesterday after work I stopped by the library to pick up a book I had requested, I Remember Nothing.

I read some of it last night, before going to sleep, and finished it on the train this morning, during my commute to work.

A slight book. Only 135 pages, and lots of white space. Short reflections and essays. Funny, mostly lightweight stuff.

But as I walked the eight blocks from the train station to my office (note: the past few days have been wonderfully cool and delightful, and I have been walking as much as possible, enjoying the weather), I was thinking, "It's just so great that Nora Ephron is ahead of me by a few years, letting us all know what it's like to get older. It's like having a funny older sister making me laugh along the way." I was looking forward to her next book.

And then I arrived at work, and turned on the computer, and looked at the news. Nora Ephron had died, at the age of 71.

Like a punch to the stomach.

I am so sorry that she didn't get the chance to enjoy old age. She would have been a wonderful old woman.

She tried to warn us in I Remember Nothing, which ends with two lists: What I Won't Miss and What I Will Miss.

I am going to make her ricotta pancake this weekend, and at some point I'll make Ruthie's Bread and Butter Pudding. I'm also going to take her advice and add extra egg yolks to omelettes and egg salad. (Ephron was the kind of writer who included recipes in her essays.)

A passage from I Remember Nothing:

The realization that I may have only a few good years remaining has hit me with real force, and I have done a lot of thinking as a result. I would like to hve come up with something profound, but I haven't. I try to figure out what I really want to do every day. I try to say to myself, If this is one of the last days of my life, am I doing exactly what I want to be doing? I aim low. My idea of a perfect day is a frozen custard at Shake Shack and a walk in the park. . . . The other night we were coming up the FDR Drive and Manhattan was doing its fabulous, magical, twinkling thing, and all I could think was how lucky I've been to spend my adult life in New York City. . . .  Sometimes, instead, we go to Los Angeles, where there are hummingbirds, and I love to watch them because they're so busy getting the most out of life.

A week in June of 2012

A summary of the recent week, in no particular order:

I bought a bike.

I contracted a horrible case of contact dermatitis.

I planted tomatoes and flowers and herbs.

Old friends stopped by on their travels between Florida and Vermont, and were able to spend the night - a fantastic evening!

I walked and walked with good old Mr. Bean. We worked on Drop It, Fetch, and Instant Come Here in class on Saturday.

My son Chris spent a night, on his way to Bulgaria and Greece for a couple of weeks.

I finished grading JUST about everything for the online class - grade are due to be turned in Tuesday night. A week off, and then begins a quarter in which I will teach TWO sections online. I like this.

I had dinner with Jay and Janet in Philadelphia, and we saw Kinky Friedman smoking a big cigar outside World Cafe Live, where he and his band were scheduled to play that night.

And a few photos related to the above statements, and to other things:

My new bike, Woody, in the butterfly garden at the park. It's a no-gears, no-hand-brakes, reconditioned bike that we bought used for $95, and it is just my style! This is the kind of bike I rode all through grade school and high school. Here's another shot, showing off the handsome wicker basket:

I had a tuna sandwich at Tria Wine Room with Jay and Janet. Didn't stop to think about taking a photo until I had taken bites of the sandwich, and had emptied my first glass of wine, so this is not a very good shot - but I did suddenly realize that it was such a lovely evening for dining outdoors, and I wanted to take some sort of photo.

The front garden. Still lots to be done, but it's coming along.

Cinnamon basil:

The hydrangea by the side of the house, where I pruned and weeded this weekend and last:

See that innocent-looking little vine sneaking up the side of the house in the back of the photo above?

It's not innocent. It's evil.

This photo was taken on the sixth day of a 12-day course of prednisone, so it doesn't look as bad as it did six days ago. Suffice it to say that my hands and face looked as though someone had thrown acid on them. On the task list for next weekend:

The artist-decorated pianos on the streets of Philadelphia were still being played by various folks, one of whom was kind enough to allow me to snap a photo on Friday morning, as I walked to work from the train station:

Did I mention that the weather has been stunningly gorgeous? The entire week was cool and comfortable at night, and pleasantly warm (but not too hot) during the day.

And so I arrive at this quiet point on Sunday evening - whew. The weeks they fly by.

Meet the robins!

At the end of May I noticed a nest just outside a bedroom window. I thought I could see at least two eggs in there, in addition to one very watchful parent.

There were three eggs, shaded by the heart-shaped lilac leaves.

The parents were careful to stay on top of those chicks, day and night, in all kinds of weather. We did have quite a few rather violent thunderstorms around this time, but the nest was of sound construction.

At first the chicks seemed barely alive. They didn't move much, and their pitiful feathers didn't even cover their little naked bodies. I worried about them.

But they grew rapidly. My, what big eyes you have!

They slept and slept, gradually taking up more and more space in the nest.

And actually, they looked a little bit lizardy.

The parents took a dim view of my attempts to preserve these precious moments.

Within just one week, the babies had grown immensely, had sprouted respectable feathers, and were obviously hungry.

And within just a week and half, the nest was beginning to be more than a bit cramped.

Both parents were brave protectors, raising a fuss whenever I was near the nest, and following me back to the house. They scolded me until I was inside. I tried to stay away as much as I could while still getting some photos, going near the nest every third day or so.

About two weeks after they had hatched, these chicks were way too big for their tiny home.

But they still wanted mom and dad to take care of them, of course.

And then one day there were only two in the nest.

And soon after that, none. And they left their nest nice and tidy, too.

I read in Wikipedia that a pair of robins often hatch as many as three broods each spring, but that they build new nests for each brood. I don't expect to ever again have such a close-up view -- what a privilege!

The pianos are here!

This morning I saw my first artist-decorated piano , on Market Street.

Doesn't really look much like a piano from that angle. You have to get closer and come around the side to see the keyboard.

In the afternoon, on my way back to the train station, I saw someone sitting in the seat playing the instrument. Then, a few blocks east, I saw another one, this time decorated with yarn.

You can just see the top of the musician's head in this photo, and what you can't see is a group of Drexel students off to the side, singing along.

A beautiful day for playing piano on the street.

What is so rare as a weekend in June?

A perfectly glorious weekend. The weather turned coolish (we put a blanket back on the bed!), and almost every moment that was not rainy (yes, there were several quick thunderstorms this weekend, but somehow they didn't interfere with anything) was spent outdoors, in the cool, lovely breeze.

We took turns biking, since at this point we own only one bike. It's too tall for me, but once I'm up and going I'm fine. It's just the on and off aspects that are slightly awkward.

We discovered a delightful park not too far from the house, where you can bike and walk and even take your dog. So while one of us biked the other walked Mr. Bean, and we switched back and forth. Mr. Bean found the whole excursion enchanting (and apparently, tiring - when we returned home he fell sound asleep for an hour).

And the flags flew brilliantly over the playground area.

Hurrah for early June!

100 Portraits

I love this project by Belgian photographer Edouard Janssens, who photographed 100 men and 100 women between the ages of 1-100, and made a slide show of the results.

The thing is, they all look so beautiful - not model-beautiful, but real life-beautiful.

And I loved watching the slide show and thinking, as the decades slid by, "Yes, those are the twenties - the thirties . . . " and so on. I think we can usually identify people's ages by decade, even if there are those folks now and then who look a decade older or younger than their real age.

I didn't watch the slide shows with the music on yet, but I want to watch these again, and next time I'll turn on the speakers.

Thank you, Monsieur Janssens!

Busy, beautiful days

Grading papers, grading papers, attending meetings, writing emails . . . . . .


and on this beautiful Saturday, walking in a newly-discovered local park with Mr. Bean, while Neil biked.

What a gorgeous day.

Also, keeping an eye on the robin family right outside my window.