Archive for August, 2014

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Oh, the golden light of a summer afternoon…

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No, it’s not “Broccoli Ahab”, it’s “Broccoli Raab“.

Thank you.

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My father used to drive an Opel, and I loved the lightning bolt logo.  A friend in college drove a sleek, low, Stingray-like Opel GT, a two-seater sparkling blue number that was a delight to my eyes.

I didn’t think I’d ever get to drive an Opel, but belatedly I realize that I did the last Saturn models were really re-badged Opels with the central information hub tilted to the left in order to accomodate US driving standards.  There might as well have been a silver O with a lightning bolt through it on the hood of my car.


Opel as a brand died at about the same time Saturn did; GM killed both brands pretty much simultaneously. The picture above is from the recent day when the magic ignition switch got installed in my car.  The new keys to go with the new lock cylinder have no logo.  No point, I guess, in spending effort branding parts that will go in so many MANY different cars, particularly ones that the company stopped giving a damn about years ago.

I don’t know what to drive now.  I have a different vehicle I’ve been driving since the recalls, but it doesn’t quite feel like my car.  It’s a giant pet that roars me from one place to another, a silver variation on Toothless, if you will.  It’s fine for now, I guess…

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This bed near the back door had been depressing me; the infill hadn’t been installed correctly, and I knew parts of an old walkway were still beneath the edge. Today I got to digging, rooting out the broken concrete and using cinder blocks, bricks, and stones to build a slightly higher wall. Then I brought over compost, peat mix, 5 pounds of coffee grounds, and dirt from random pots to raise the soil level.

There’s room for some spring bulbs, maybe some annuals that start from seed [It’s sometimes hard to tell, though, what’s really an “annual” around here…]

So the established peonies, climbing rose, goldenrod, asters, and mint are joined by a red coreopsis, Hidcote lavender, catmint, and a magenta salvia.

A good afternoon’s effort, I think.

An unexpected bonus was getting to see a Black Swallowtail visiting the fennel — probably a descendant of the one photographed here — coming to lay eggs. It’s so rewarding to see the cycle begin again!


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I remember seeing a college production of this play, in a little black box space in northwest London. One of the lines that jumped out then, and again when I saw this painting in Bremen, was “God is a young man, an old man, and a small white bird…”

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So what we have here are a few shiny objects, in reverse order I think, from a walk I took in Dusseldorf a few weeks ago.
Some objects are more complete than others

I love the look of crystal room dividers, although it’s not affordable or feasible in any real place I might live…


And then there are just big ol’ hunks of glass. I understand some enterprising people are proclaiming the psychic abilities of similar chunks of glass [actually, much smaller pieces, and available for much higher prices than the few Euros required to take either of these specimens home], and I’m not sure how that is supposed to work. I suspect it works for someone, but maybe not in the way advertised.

There’s something more thoughtful to be said here, but it has to wait.

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They are out to shatter perceptions, not records. They are here to see that striving together can open doors, and minds, and hearts…

From all over the world they arrive, waving the colors of their home regions in a pair of northern cities reinventing themselves.

A local senator and his Pulitzer Prize-winning wife [“I highly recommend voting records as a way to vet prospective dates…”] spoke of how having the Gay Games in Cleveland/Akron served many purposes, not the least of which was showing the world that Ohio regretted passing harsh anti-marriage legislation a decade ago.

Rainbow lights splash buildings all over downtown Cleveland tonight. Happy people mill about after the Opening Ceremonies, and look forward to tomorrow’s events.

Someone on a street corner commented that some of the music played reminded them of their age, and I said “If being older means that I’ve lived long enough to see _that_ in the skyline, and have these rings on my finger, I’m more than happy to own it.”


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