New camera, new yard, more photos

So, I’ve gotten a new camera and a new garden with things to take pictures of. I figure I should play around and experiment. You, lucky reader, get to “enjoy” my attempts. This is attempt one.

Texans and heat

[ed note: This was originally written on Sunday, but through technical error, did not appear until today]

On the train ride back from teaching out in West Newton, I had these two guys sit behind me in full Red Sox gear. This in and of itself is in no way interesting or unusual. What made it unusual was the fact that they seemed to know nothing at all about Boston. They asked each other if “This here subway runs 24/7″. I thought this was really weird–they then also talked to the conductor to figure out how to get to the airport. There just was something about their accent that compelled me to turn around and tell them my best way to Logan(SIlver Line). I asked them where they were from–if you’re clever enough to read the title, you’ll know their answer–and they replied “Texas”.

I asked where specifically, and they said, “A small town North of San Antonio. Persisting, they said New Braunfels. All the way in Boston, and I find someone from New Braunfels. I felt a certain Texan solidarity as I pointed them to the North End for good Italian food. Maybe it’s just my joy in being a guide in a foreign land for Texans.

Oh, and they brought the heat with them. Heat index of 107 on Tuesday. Guess which day I’m moving into my new place?

The only thing left

I don’t have a record of my father’s voice save one. It’s not even a message for me. It’s a piece of triviality, an accident. A month before his death the phone rang in the empty house with him in it. Or maybe it didn’t. Maybe he only thought it did. He reached for the phone to try to answer it and inadvertently dialed my number. It rang enough to leave a message–he started asking for a mysterious “Ms Howtch”. The only record of my father’s voice doesn’t even address me.

He means to hang up after trying to raise his caller, giving up with a plaintive, “well…”. But he doesn’t. The recording continues, marking for eternity what Brit Hume had to say about Obama and Hillary. It records his shifts in movement, his behavior when no one was around. The last noise I have of him is a yawn. “Oh my”. I get a glimpse into what his life was like. It only makes me wonder what he was thinking.

Does this count as #3?

Maybe this is supposed to be good thing number three–I don’t know that it’s on the same level as the first two, but it is good nonetheless.

Wegmans is not impressive

For many months (possibly years) I’ve been told of the incredible stores in and around Philadelphia called Wegmans, which was apparently the pinnacle of grocery shopping. Even my mother came from Austin and dared to say that Wegmans was better than Central Market or the flagship Whole Foods at 6th and Lamar.

How could she be any more incorrect? The produce was mediocre, especially for the price. The Prices were pretty ridiculous. The spices were ungodly expensive. A cannister of cardamom seeds was over $10. $10! Yikes.

Sure, there was a good selection. And I will give them credit for a fine tea corner. The salmon was very pretty (but no more so than CM or Whole Foods). There was a good selection of prepared foods, but again, nothing that blew me away when compared to the two Austin chains.

Conclusion: Meh.

Night people make the best houseguests

It seems as though everyone and their mothers wants to visit Boston in the springtime. This doesn’t bother me one bit, since I really enjoy playing tour guide around places I live. But, it has made me realize that clearly night (bordering on nocturnal) house guest are ideal. (Not to discourage morning people from visiting nor to mock those that have recently departed).

Just under a year

I am apparently quite poor at maintaining a proper blog. I might try to claim that nothing interesting has happened to me over the past year–that it was merely a blink of the passage of time and suddenly, I’m here, unchanged and undaunted. That’s not true. Truth be told, the past year has been exceedingly difficult in a number of ways. Between fighting over scholarships, trying to start a business, and surviving on little to no income, it’s been fraught with obstacles. The worst of which I’ve yet to mention.

Excuse me, put it in your mouth or give it back to me.

I went to church today, and we had a Nigerian priest give the liturgy. He was quite good and talked about the peace that we need to try to make and find in the world. Peace in regions of outright conflict (Sudan, Iraq), places of opression (North Korea), and places of internal conflict among peoples (Cultural Conflict in the West).

6th Street: x-mas style

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Originally uploaded by Zemsky.

I’ve spent way too much time on Sixth Street this trip back, but never had enough to drink to inebriate me. Always a designated driver, never a bride. Or something like that.

Here is sixth in all its finery.

The shelf where anything goes.