Life in Paris, day un.
Garden tour of Madison, 8.16.13
Wood fire pizza lunch at Pizza Brutta
Rented bicycle riding
Monroe St. Neighborhood, Madison, Wisconsin, 8.16.13
Dinner at Brasserie V, Monroe St, Madison Wisconsin 8.15.13
Family vacation, 8.14.13
Lake Winnebago, High Cliffs State Park, Wisconsin.
8/10/13 Saturday Morning at the Ann Arbor Farmer’s Market
Sunday Dinner 7/28
My first crochet project, aka Grandma’s new blanket. She was so thrilled she hyperventilated the whole way home. Whoops.
The passing of an era.
Erica’s Last close at Trader Joe’s, Tuesday, July 23rd.
Friday, Erica moves to DC. I’m mad as hell that I’m loosing my number one foodie, partner in wine, and a great friend.
I know what you do is move, and what I do is stay here.
I’m not any happier about it.
Best of luck on your new adventure. Not that you need it. You already ate them all. :)
A weekend on the Leelanau peninsula with the dog, tenting at Leelanau state park.
This peninsula is my favorite place on earth, thus far.
Beach time, wine tasting, and a rain storm— what more could this little family ask for?
"Si Quaeris Peninsulam Amoenam Circumspice"
"If you seek a pleasant peninsula, look about you."
Independence Day. July 4 2013
Erica and I designed an over-the-top hotdog party, complete with homemade buns, beer cheese sauce, soy-chorizo chili, cider braised leeks and apples, a chopped salad and old bay fries.
We celebrated with eight million sparklers, and a few of the boys set off a few million more fireworks.
As evidenced by these photographs, I spent most of the night watching from a safe-seeming corner with Mike Hudson, an occasional sparkler, and bud light.
In the words of Mike, “Y’all are nuts.”
If it ain’t one thing, it’s another.
Well, then, suppose my auto-repair man devised questions for an intelligence test. Or suppose a carpenter did, or a farmer, or, indeed, almost anyone but an academician. By every one of those tests, I’d prove myself a moron, and I’d be a moron, too. In a world where I could not use my academic training and my verbal talents but had to do something intricate or hard, working with my hands, I would do poorly. My intelligence, then, is not absolute but is a function of the society I live in and of the fact that a small subsection of that society has managed to foist itself on the rest as an arbiter of such matters.
Consider my auto-repair man, again. He had a habit of telling me jokes whenever he saw me. One time he raised his head from under the automobile hood to say: “Doc, a deaf-and-mute guy went into a hardware store to ask for some nails. He put two fingers together on the counter and made hammering motions with the other hand. The clerk brought him a hammer. He shook his head and pointed to the two fingers he was hammering. The clerk brought him nails. He picked out the sizes he wanted, and left. Well, doc, the next guy who came in was a blind man. He wanted scissors. How do you suppose he asked for them?”
Indulgently, I lifted my right hand and made scissoring motions with my first two fingers. Whereupon my auto-repair man laughed raucously and said, “Why, you dumb jerk, He used his voice and asked for them.” Then he said smugly, “I’ve been trying that on all my customers today.” “Did you catch many?” I asked. “Quite a few,” he said, “but I knew for sure I’d catch you.” “Why is that?” I asked. “Because you’re so goddamned educated, doc, I knew you couldn’t be very smart.”"
— Isaac Asimov (via skinnybaras)
As a teacher, I try to constantly keep this in mind for my students, and to act— and treat them— accordingly. I try not to test my fish at tree climbing. It is, as are many things, easier said than done, however.
I read about half of Tony Judt’s Postwar for a college history class, and I’ve meant to read the whole thing ever since. Tonight I decided to take...
Packing up my belongings requires me again to consider why it is that I’ve retained so many things, acquired over the course...