Bachelor Weekend
I'm pleased to report that my butt did not grow into the couch while I watched DVDs over the weekend while Barbara is away, as was predicted by some. [Cough!]
Our first arguably spring-like day happened Saturday, so I took the opportunity to get out on the bicycle. After getting a few chores done around the house, I used it as incentive to actually go to work and get ahead of the curve on an imminent deadline.
Though I usually prefer heat and sweat, it was a nearly ideal day for cycling. Pleasantly cool, nice breezes (especially when I was headed north instead of south), and sunlight. On the way home, I bumped into Oliver Banta on the Rock Island Trail; he's apparently taken up road cycling fairly seriously. I'll have to watch for him now, because he told me he's seen me commuting. I was embarassed that I had not recognized him. I managed not to bump into the folks strolling on the path who insist on stopping to chat with people they know blocking both lanes of the trail.
Barbara's in South Carolina, visiting her mother who is undergoing treatment for cancer. I would have liked to gone along, but the situation at the office is such that it's hard for me to take the kind of time away that Barbara wanted to spend with her parents.
On Sunday, a cat I have never seen before appeared on our back porch soliciting hand-outs. At first I thought it was Lorenzo, but this fellow's stripes were more black and gray, less tan. In fact, he looked very much like Penelope (aka Dr. Girlfriend), whom we took to Milwaukee to be adopted by Kelly and James, right down to the distinctive shape of his head.
He was neither collared nor neutered.
I tried to make friends and get a picture of him, but he was too skittish—probably not domesticated. Lorenzo was none too happy that he was around either, and that didn't help things. I managed to stay between them so no fight broke out while the other guy made his way off of Lorenzo's primary territory, but there was growling and hissing all the way. Fortunately, Lorenzo elected to return to the back porch instead of giving chase when the other guy finally ran off.
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How To Spend a Weekend
Saturday morning, we got up early enough to get Helga to the vet before they actually opened for the day. This was by their request in order to see Helga, who has been sneezing lately, as soon as possible. Everything is okay, the vet told us. Helga's lungs, which had been full of fluid at the last visit were clear or at least clearer. As long as she's eating, drinking, active, etc.
It was still early when we got home, so we got on our bikes and headed to the Green Gateau for breakfast. It was cool, and early enough that the streets were clear. While getting ready, we skipped the usual preflight stuff: we didn't wear special shoes or clothes; we didn't bother with water bottles. We just got on our bikes and went, the way a person typically gets in a car and goes.
We get too wrapped up, maybe, in the act of cycling. We worry so much about bottles and computers and roads vs. trails and wicking fibers that we forget it's a way to get around. This trip was the opposite of that.
While eating our breakfasts—Barbara had huevos rancheros with salsa instead of chili, while I opted for the whole grain pancakes with blueberries—we talked about the viability of a true vegetarian restaurant in Lincoln. We imagined a place that relied on (as much as possible) local agriculture with a seasonal menu, serving breakfast, lunch, and dinner. But mostly breakfast, especially whole grain pancakes with blueberries. And more coffee, please.
Location would be key of course. Downtown is prime, but College View has possibility with Union College and its vegetarian population. Non-adventist vegetarians from around town would probably seek it out if it were in College View, but I still favor downtown because it would be close to all the other reasons people go downtown: work, events, entertainment.
Both Barbara and I can imagine restauranteurship being a blast...for about a week. Someone else will have to take this ball and run with it. I'd be glad to help with menu planning and some of the cooking and hosting duties. I just don't want to clean or open or close or prep. Well, maybe a little prep.
After breakfast Barbara got her hair cut, and then we went to A Novel Idea and found a pile of titles to add to our collection. Barbara found some Octavia Butler she hadn't read yet, and it looked as though someone had cleared his or her shelves of a bunch of Japanese language (pedagogical) texts. They even had a copy of 501 Japanese Verbs, but I was disappointed to find that it was all romaji text—not much help at all with reading. Instead, I opted for an aikido book by Yamada sensei I haven't read yet, and a collection of zen and bushido treatises translated by Thomas Cleary.
This is why it's cool to live downtown.
By the time we headed home, it was getting hot. Not Friday commute home 100° hot, but little trickle of sweat down the back hot anyway.
We invested part of the afternoon in picking up trash along R Street. This was both painful in its necessity, but satisfying for the result. See my previous anti-litterer rant. We walked a mere three blocks, and picked up two good-sized bags of trash. Most of it was was either fast food or sugary drink related. I imagine it was largely dumped from moving cars, though some was clearly swept out of parked cars. Coincidentally, Rosalind Morris had a nice letter published in today's paper on the subject. She's not nearly as cynical or bitter as I am.
Saturday afternoon, we drove out to [HIDDEN FOR YOUR
PROTECTION] Farm
to buy some milk, from which Barbara will be making cheese and yogurt.
Speaking of which, how about the raw
dairy sting in Ohio? How do you feel about the government protecting
big dairy and consolidators
who buy milk from smaller operations
and mix it all together to sell it back to you? The news I hear
frequently at the breakfast table from my own personal raw dairy
advocate is that contamination in milk was due to obsolete farming
practices and poor conditions during transport. Big dairy doesn't want
you buying directly from the local farmer. (Presumably neither does big
grocery.) <FNORD>Anyway, you should probably fear and shun your local dairy
farmer.</FNORD> Consume. Buy corporate. Watch television. Be
happy.
Marin came over to share some cabbage pie for supper. Barbara modified the recipe to use a whole wheat crust with real butter, and lined it with sliced potato instead of egg. Brian was under the weather, so Marin was taking on the bread baking duties in preparation for Sunday's Farmers' Market. Fortunately, she was able to find time for a meal, with some berries and ice cream for dessert.
Sunday was much less eventful. We mostly just lolled around the house, which is a fine way to spend a Sunday especially when it's hot out. We did venture out to help break down the stand at the Farmers' Market, and go pick up a replacement carafe for the coffee press. (I managed to destroy ours while getting ready for supper on Saturday.)
It was a good weekend.
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