My husband went off for a “private audience” with his mother, as he calls it, while I stayed behind at the hotel. During the whole time he was gone, I lay More
Seattle: Another important dot on my personal map. A place without prior associations that I’m getting to know. Sometimes I’m enthused about it, sometimes no. Since many members of my husband’s family live here (we’ve been married less than three years), their roots largely organize where I go and what I do.
Every day is different, but every day begins the same way, at the refrigerator door, in a dark kitchen.
The hundreds of people who live in the building next to ours are asleep, but if they aren’t they can look into my kitchen, lit up like a stage set when I turn on the dim light over the stove and open the fridge. More
The South Loop, where I work, is very old. There are a lot of old things left over from the past, historical buildings mixed in with the new. I took this picture in the Fine Arts Building, where from the lobby you can peer into this old café, the Artists Café. It’s been there for eons.
I happened to take this picture when nothing was happening, the place deserted, which is its general spirit anyway. Very little changes here. The food doesn’t improve. It’s always been mediocre.
Still, it’s cool to look in and see something so archaic. Many parts of the city are this way. The parade of progress never marched in their direction.
If I weren’t a blogger, commuting into the Loop every morning would be excruciating.
What I like about blogging is that it forces you—well, not forces you but encourages you, motivates you—to find something useful in the day. It forces you to consider what values to assign to what you’re seeing, and that in turn helps you ‘find your place’ in reality. I notice that More
Our uncle died, and we are deciding whether to go to Seattle to be with the family.
Suddenly, the death of our elders is implicating, in a way it wasn’t when I was younger. As my mother said recently, when one of her last more senior relatives died, “Now we’re the old people.” With every passing, the generations shift, and our place in the constellation of relationships loses something and takes on something new. More
There’s a sweetness to the morning commute; have you noticed? Everyone is looking their best, if a little sleepy (that’s part of the charm, the romance and weariness clinging from the night before). Bodies fresh, clothes fresh. Hair washed and combed. Many clutching coffee, though the most wide-awake have worked out already. More
Workers commuting to and from the city don’t have it all bad. Even when their train car is crowded and noisy, even when they don’t get a seat, they can distract themselves from the misery with the glory of the view.
This image has been given a film-grain effect.
Yesterday being the Jewish new year, we went for a walk. I’m not Jewish, but my husband’s father was, so we celebrate the Jewish holidays without observing them exactly. Since I don’t know the Jewish traditions (raised Episcopal myself), I go along with what my husband suggests. So the night before last we had a really fine dinner, and yesterday we spent at home, except for our excursion to the park. Taking a walk is something my husband remembers often doing on New Year’s when he was a kid. More