Street and sky

I don't know why I haven't posted in so long. This probably has something to do with the fact that a completely optional activity sometimes just doesn't get done. If you don't have to do it . . .

Which is a shame, not so much because I haven't posted but because I truly appreciate reading blogs written by other people who are probably much busier than I am, and also do not have to post.

But they do, and I am glad of it.

Back at it again, this time with a photo of Market Street in Philadelphia, mid-December 2012. We had experienced a series of gray, drab days and then the sun came out late one afternoon.

Sometimes things just look new, in a new light.

Weekly recap

It's been an odd day, waiting for Hurricane Sandy to really really really hit us. Sandy is sort of here already, but so far it's just rather heavy rain and wind -- and waiting, and listening to newscasters warn us all of impending doom. My workplace is closed today and tomorrow, so I spent the day working from home, which is nice.

I may or may not have storm photos later, but for now I'll just catch up on what has been happening over the past week.

Neil and I saw Verdi's Requiem at the Kimmel Center last Sunday.

The scheduled soprano was out due to allergies, so there was a substitute, Angela Meade, who was fantastic. At the end of the concert the conductor knelt before her on one knee while the audience went wild with cheers.

After the concert, we headed to our old haunt, the Perch Pub, for food and drink (and thanks to a gift card from a thoughtful friend in Illinois!).

Isn't that drink pretty? It's the Saint Nick of Port Richmond, described in the drinks menu behind the glass.

Our bartender/server was very nice. He asked us, after we had exchanged just a few words, "Where are you from?" I replied, "Willow Grove," and he followed up with, "But you didn't grow up there, did you?"

"No, we both grew up in the midwest, in the Chicago area."

"I could tell by the way you pronounce your vowels."

This surprised me, since I don't detect any accent when I speak. It turns out he is a recent graduate of acting school, and had studied American dialects. He's currently working in a small indie production. You can see him reflected in the bar mirror below.

So that was the weekend. Last week we had wonderful fall weather, just beautiful. As always, I appreciate the gardening and landscaping in the city.

As well as the skies and the breeze.

My morning walks with Mr. Bean begin in darkness this time of year.

Last Tuesday I took a group of physicians out to dinner after work. On my way to the restaurant, I walked through Macy's, where the enormous organ (largest working organ in the world, I believe) was being played.

And the shoes and boots were impressive.

And the mannequins were exhausted.

We ate at Varalli, which is located directly underneath the Perch Pub, and is owned by the same people.

Great food, great conversation.

The days leading up to the Big Storm were gorgeous. Bean enjoyed the leaf piles.

And we both admired the neighbors' ingenuity in constructing Halloween decorations as we ambled round the 'hood.

So that was my week. Busy today moving stuff from the lower level (which could flood) to a higher level of the house, and watching and waiting . . . .

If we didn't collect anything, how would we remember who we were?

Just finished reading The Hare with Amber Eyes, by Edmund de Waal.

Enjoyed it thoroughly. I agree with the reviews on the back cover, such as "To be handed a story as durable and exquisitely crafted as this is a rare pleasure"; "Mr. de Waal's nostalgia is tart, tactile, marvelously nuanced."

I don't quite agree with the advice from the reviewer in The Economist: "Buy two copies of this book; keep one and give the other to your closest bookish friend." It's fine advice if you have lots of money to spend, but noting the great pleasure I received from this book is the closest I can come to "giving" it to friends.

The book did inspire me to make a trip to the Philadelphia Museum of Art, in search of netsuke, the tiny Japanese wood and ivory carvings that inspired de Waal to write this memoir. I also wanted to look at ceramics (de Waal is Professor of Ceramics at the University of Westminster, and writes with feeling and intelligence about the mystery of why we find some objects beautiful).

But first, breakfast at Beck's Cajun Cafe, located in Reading Terminal Market.

I chose red beans and rice with andouille sausage, a fried egg on top, and two big chunks of cornbread - the Cajun breakfast bowl. Excellent fuel for a day of walking around museums.

Then I hopped on a bus for the museum, and went in search of netsuke. I did not find any. (Later, though, I did find an image of a netsuke rabbit on the web.)

(This image is misleading, since netsuke are tiny, no more than three inches high. All that detail in a tiny, tiny space.)

And I saw lots of other interesting things. Suspicious saints.

Chinese snuff boxes.

The face of Bhairava.

A 17th-century monkey with an earring.

And a 17th-century dog with two earrings.

And in the sculpture garden, a giant Claes Oldenburg plug. (Items related to electricity are very popular in Philadelphia public art.)

Then I took a shuttle to the Perelman Building across the street, which houses a textile and fashion museum, among other exhibits.

The current exhibit is Great Coats - the museum owns lots and lots of couture, and they periodically exhibit various pieces. How about this stunner?

You can read about it here:

The museum gift shop featured some fascinating and horribly expensive pieces of apparel, including these cool boots:

All in all, a good time wandering around looking at collections of stuff.

I'll end with a selection from one of the amazon reviewers of The Hare with Amber Eyes:


What are objects to us? Do they change when we hold them, display them, give them value? Do they "retain the pulse of their makeup?" If we didn't collect anything, how would we remember who we were?


Collecting photos and memories is a way of figuring out who we are, I think.

Morning to evening

I have been busy all week - happily so.

On Tuesday, for example, I arrived at work a bit early, as the sun was rising.

And the first light was touching the street sculpture near the office.

After work, I took a very nice group of physicians out to dinner, and then walked to the train station.

Philadelphia at night is quite pleasant, as long as you are in the right part of town, and the weather is good, and you have a reasonable amount of good luck (because bad things can happen anywhere).

And you like puzzling over odd displays in store windows, such as this roller skate sculpture.

Another weekend in September

Absolutely gorgeous weather in Philadelphia this weekend. Here we are on Friday, in the city.

And here we are in Pennypack Park (also in Philadelphia), on Saturday.

Back to the office.

And then again to the park.

Nice weekend. Biked 16 miles on Saturday, did a lot of yardwork and housework, cooked and cleaned. And walked Beanie. I like the nice long walks on the weekends.

So - a quiet but enjoyable weekend here. A memorable, beautiful, tiring, and wonderful weekend for Internet friend Nina.

I do not heart melancholy

Weather so beautiful you just can't stay in the office all day, no matter how much work is piling up.

So I walked down the street, and noticed that a new exhibition had opened at the Institute of Contemporary Art, where admission is free. Who could resist?

It was a Jeremy Deller installation. I had never heard of him (don't know much about art in general).

You can read more about him in Wikipedia.

The first room was a funny concept - as a teen, he used to hold clandestine "art shows" in his house when his parents were out, and the room was supposed to represent his bedroom from those years, with a sample of his early work. Apparently he divides his work into periods, depending on whether he was inspired by Keith Moon, David Bowie, or Neil Young.

I have to say I'm not a huge fan, based on this one view. But it was interesting. And who am I to complain about a free art show?

By the way, this show is an opportunity for hungry unemployed people to get a free lunch. All you have to do is agree to spend a few hours every so often as a living part of the I Heart Melancholy part of the installation. It's a black couch in front of a black wall, and the volunteer just has to sit, lie down, or nap on the couch while visitors walk by and stare. The guy today was lying down with his back to us, apparently sound asleep. Even from the back though, he did look depressed.

The other installation, Valerie's Snack Bar, features a real person sitting behind the counter of the snack bar. The woman who was volunteering as the living part of this installation was reading. I'd rather be part of Valerie's Snack Bar than I Heart Melancholy.

Visitors are not allowed to take any photos inside the rooms of the exhibit, or I would have more interesting photos.

Back at the office, I noticed that the fountain in the garden looked great in the autumn sunshine.

Clown Shoes Pimp?

Busy days. Good, busy days.

The big news - my older son, Chris, who was working at Cornell University, was informed a couple months ago that his department was being laid off due to budget cuts (he worked in the horticultural department, taking care of vineyards and orchards - a job he loved).

But (this is a bad news/good news story) before his job even ended, his best friend from high school asked him if he'd like to work with him, in Washington DC. Yay!

So Chris is living with us for the next 6-8 weeks, training in Philadelphia, and commuting to DC on the weekends, where he and his significant other have a shiny new condo with a shiny new lease in the Waterfront area. (I think he said Waterfront - I'm not all that familiar with DC neighborhoods.) But I love having Chris at home again, even if it is just for a few weeks.

And his new job is with a fabulous artisan coffee company, which means he brings home some great coffee!

What else?

A friend from high school was in Philadelphia for a meeting, so we got together. Here's Neil and Pam at our favorite Philly eatery, Perch Pub.

I had the Clown Shoes Pimp (nope, no idea how this beer got that name):





We posed by a statue of the Philly Phanatic.

After spending a ridiculous amount of time looking for a place to park in the historic district, we took a tour of the city. It was nice and cool on the top of the bus. Below is Pam, going past one of my least favorite pieces of Philadelphia street art.

As you can see, it was windy. And then it was rainy.

So we finished the tour on the lower level, and even though the tour was not so great, we had a wonderful time, and I laughed more than I have in a long time.

Before the rains came down, we did pass by the steps of the Philadelphia Art Museum, where two wedding parties were taking photos (it's a very popular spot for weddings).

The rains cleared the air and cooled us all off, and when I woke up this morning and took Bean out for his walk, I knew it was really and truly fall. I love the change of the seasons.

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.