a fortuitous stroll
I had every intention when I woke up of writing my 2 pending cover letters and/or responding to all the Journal staffers about their Note topics. But a grimmer reality steamrolled those plans. On a whim, I figured I'd check the deadlines for bar, MPRE, and bar review applications, only to find that I now have only 13 more days to get the "early application" discount on the Maryland bar. (Which is, incidentally, only 6 months away. Gaaah!!) So instead of all the other things I had to do, I spent all day filling in blanks on a PDF and discovering how little of the last few years I remember: former supervisors' names, whether I got any speeding tickets, references' addresses, when I worked where, whether I did anything arguably unethical. As it is, I doubt I'll be able to swing the early fee at this point, because I have to send away for a certified driving record from the WV DOT, the promptness of which process I highly doubt.
Come 3:30pm, I was as done as I could be and going stir-crazy after 4 hours of literally uninterrupted computer time. I decided to take a walk around the neighborhood. I strolled eastward, and kept strolling, and kept strolling, until I found myself most of the 1.6 miles to the Mt. Washington Whole Foods. I'd been toying with going to WFM to get tofu and mushrooms to stir-fry with the bok choy tonight (I used up the tofu on a similar scheme last night), but I didn't think it worth the gasoline. But there I was, powered by my own feet and the calories I'd stored from all the Pennsylvania-Dutch food I'd consumed over New Year's. I bought the groceries, topped off my Calorie Tank with some guacamole and Parrano samples, and bought some very cheap wine and Warsteiner from the wine shop next door before making the 1.6-mile (uphill) return trek. In short, the whole excursion worked out well: exercise, away-from-computer-time, and carbon-free grocery shopping.
As I started back, the turquoise sky was fletched with a couple salmon streamers, and I looked down from the Smith Avenue bridge upon a great blue heron, standing on a sandbar in the gloaming, its badger face frozen amid the booming traffic. I couldn't have been more than 40 feet away. When I shifted, it walked a few paces, then spread its wide wings and flapped to the opposite bank. I walked away and it flew back, then sailed under the bridge, exactly under the spot where I had stood, and disappeared.
I have always regarded the sighting of this bird, as well as of similarly majestic hawks and pileated woodpeckers, as a good omen. Before I left for Switzerland in the summer of 2005, I saw a great blue heron soar overhead two days in a row. I took it as an auspicious sign for my travels and work, and indeed, that summer brought me ample good fortune. (While in Zurich, I once spied a European grey heron at the confluence of the Limmat and Sihl Rivers.) I hope that this heron bodes well for me in the coming season as well, which presently remains cloaked in enigma (jobs? finals? internship? the bar? I don't even know yet what classes I'll be taking).
Come 3:30pm, I was as done as I could be and going stir-crazy after 4 hours of literally uninterrupted computer time. I decided to take a walk around the neighborhood. I strolled eastward, and kept strolling, and kept strolling, until I found myself most of the 1.6 miles to the Mt. Washington Whole Foods. I'd been toying with going to WFM to get tofu and mushrooms to stir-fry with the bok choy tonight (I used up the tofu on a similar scheme last night), but I didn't think it worth the gasoline. But there I was, powered by my own feet and the calories I'd stored from all the Pennsylvania-Dutch food I'd consumed over New Year's. I bought the groceries, topped off my Calorie Tank with some guacamole and Parrano samples, and bought some very cheap wine and Warsteiner from the wine shop next door before making the 1.6-mile (uphill) return trek. In short, the whole excursion worked out well: exercise, away-from-computer-time, and carbon-free grocery shopping.
As I started back, the turquoise sky was fletched with a couple salmon streamers, and I looked down from the Smith Avenue bridge upon a great blue heron, standing on a sandbar in the gloaming, its badger face frozen amid the booming traffic. I couldn't have been more than 40 feet away. When I shifted, it walked a few paces, then spread its wide wings and flapped to the opposite bank. I walked away and it flew back, then sailed under the bridge, exactly under the spot where I had stood, and disappeared.
I have always regarded the sighting of this bird, as well as of similarly majestic hawks and pileated woodpeckers, as a good omen. Before I left for Switzerland in the summer of 2005, I saw a great blue heron soar overhead two days in a row. I took it as an auspicious sign for my travels and work, and indeed, that summer brought me ample good fortune. (While in Zurich, I once spied a European grey heron at the confluence of the Limmat and Sihl Rivers.) I hope that this heron bodes well for me in the coming season as well, which presently remains cloaked in enigma (jobs? finals? internship? the bar? I don't even know yet what classes I'll be taking).