My astonishing, unexpected, delightful Staycation.
Thursday I met my friend Blaine at the farmer's market in front of Lakeside Hospital. It was an adorable mini fair, complete with a steel drum band at the apex of the archway of green. I had a delicious chicken tikka wrap from Chutney Rolls' booth and a mango lemonade. MMM. I also bought some fresh pasta from Ohio City Pasta because their booth seemed unpopular and I love pasta.
Of course, buying fresh, undried pasta was probably not a good idea at the time. "It'll keep four days in your fridge," the young man selling it told me. I was a bike commuter not going home after work.
I wore my very best biking outfit - my blue polka dot frilly skirt-like-shorts (skorts!) and my Paris t-shirt. Because I knew I'd be seen a lot on my bike ride tonight.
See, Thursday night was Science After Dark at the Science Center. Brian would be showing off his combat demo for Tinselfly. He had to be there at five to set up, but the event wouldn't start until six thirty, and I agreed to bike out to meet him there.
Which I did. Rather than take the shortest route, which would be to take Euclid to East 9th, I took the Harrison Dillard Bikeway up through Rockefeller Park and then the Cleveland Lakefront Bikeway to East 9th. It was sunny and mild, in the seventies with a cool breeze off the lake. I was mostly going downhill the whole way and surrounded by park. I felt sorry for the commuters stuck in traffic on MLK as I zipped past them. Then, on the lakefront, I passed indolent families fishing and walking dogs or just sitting and watching the lake. The water was calm and clear, lapping at the rocks below.
I was startled by a flock of sheep next to Pier 55. How long has THAT been there? Urban farming is really quite the thing these days.
Burke Lakefront Airport feels a lot bigger when you are biking past it and there is so little shade along the runway. This was the only dreary section of the trip.
At the science center I basked in air conditioning and immediately found Game Developer people. The lady at the ticket counter gave me a wristband and drink tickets - the theme tonight was Brewmaster, and there would be microbreweries offering samples throughout the building as well as demonstrations on the science of brewing.
I had a blast, and got quite tipsy on free mead. I'm told I can get the Hop Nectar Mead at the Wine Spot on Lee. SO DOING THAT.
I discovered a children's area on the roof I'd not known about and played with the water-spouting pumps and sprayers while watching an ore boat make its ponderous way across the horizon and sipping chilled mead. I also found the ball pit area. I suspect it was supposed to be closed off from the public. HEE HEE.
After an evening of drunken fun (and Science!) I was grateful both that Brian and I had loaded my bike into the car and that I did not have work the next day.
I woke up a wee bit hungover, which I treated with a glass of water and a Klondike bar. After lazing about a bit, checking email and reading, I decided that I needed to go to Luna Cafe and get something chocolate. I also remembered the fresh pasta, with a four-day lifespan, sitting in the fridge at work.
So I hopped on my bike. Strange how much more pleasant it was to bike my usual commute without it actually being a commute. When I got to the Dental School, I stopped to see Gracie (and grab some time in air conditioning.) I saw her leading a young man into the lab, no doubt to help him with the equipment. She was in her favorite new rose-colored dress. I left without saying hi. Didn't want to interrupt the work day, though I was there, enjoying the illicitness of wandering through a work environment, idle.
I wore my green high-waisted skorts and a white cross-over blouse that is a bit low in the neck. I had pearl and malachite earrings and a malachite bracelet. I was 1940s retro europeanish and not at all work-appropriate.
I decided that I was not ready to get my pasta and head home. I was hot and wanted coolness and perhaps to read or write a bit. As I glided down from the Dental School Podium to Cornel Road, I decided I was going to Wade Oval. I could refill my water bottle at one of the public drinking fountains and sit in the shade to read. It was easy enough to turn left on Euclid from Cornel. So I did.
Lured by the lovely sound of the Fountain of the Waters, I selected a secluded spot under a small flowering tree to sit and read a chapter or two of Light in August, which I am currently devouring. It's at times a beautiful and at times a deeply frustrating book. It seems designed to read outdoors in the summer time, especially to do so in the sound of a fountain in shade as cool as air conditioning.
After a while, though, my butt had quite enough of sitting on grass, and the occassional crawling insects encouraged me to seek out a more indoor situation. "Well," I thought, "I am, right now, AT the art museum. I may as well go inside." I pictured myself just going in to the atrium and sitting a while there under indoor trees to read a bit more, or perhaps write.
First I rode my bike twice around the lagoon because the paths were there and it was fun.
I knew where the bike racks were, tucked into a hidden little cove of the building between entrance and parking garage. I walked eagerly into the cool modern interior, where I was gently but firmly told I needed to check my bag and waterbottle.
In a hurry I took only my journal from the backpack.
I found the atrium busier and more food-smelling than I would have liked, so I went up into the newly opened North wing and found it dedicated to Hindu and Buddhist art. Having only planned to use the art museum as a pleasant backdrop, I wandered raptly from statue to statue, taking in the sinuous torsos and serene faces. I have a particular fondness for very early Buddhas, thin and draped in wet togas.
I sat for a while in a room full of Kali and Shiva and wrote in my journal, glancing up now and then so I would meet the expectations of the other museum goers, that I would appear to be contemplating the art. I was composing a poem about traffic and construction workers.
I passed polo-clad professionals kneeling before the enlightened one to read the plaque.
Not ready to leave, yet, I wandered a bit more, through Persian and Baroque and Napoleanic galleries, jotting notes in my journal. "Apollo stares in confusion, as though asking, 'how did I become French?'"
Just making my idle way back to the front of the museum, I found a temporary exhibit on Albrecht Durer. His lines kill me. I stared and wrote and stared and wrote.
I left the museum feeling my mind and heart were surfeited on a banquet of art, but my tummy was rumbling, ready for that promised cupcake.
I biked a lap of Wade Park, glancing at the historical marker. I used the water fountain, which was right where I remembered it being. I saw another cyclist resting on the low stone wall next to the garden center. I decided to leave the park via East 108th. Passing the Historical Society, I was seized with a desire for more museum time, particularly to see the carousel exhibit. But they did not have a readily-apparent bike rack, and I was getting tired and hungry, so I just continued on my way to the building where I work, where I popped in quickly to grab my pasta and my iPod, which I'd left on my desk.
I had Korn to help me up Edgehill. It didn't feel nearly so huge a hill, knowing that instead of continuing after it up the next hill and eventually home I was stopping at Cedar-Fairmont for a treat.
At Luna Cafe I had an iced chai and a Chocolate Oreo Cupcake which was about everything one can hope for in a cupcake, moist and sweet and piled with four inches of creamy frosting.
I forced myself to write a LITTLE.
I got home around five thirty, just as I would normally have, and sat on the porch swing with my Faulkner and a glass of ice water. The mail carrier, seeing me, brought me a package right to my seat. What a dear lady! And it was my long-desired dress from Ebay!
I showered and changed into the dress and cooked up the fresh Ohio City pasta with butter, garlic, zucchini and mushrooms.
Let's face it. Friday rocked.
Today, I woke up early, had the last Klondike Bar while reading my book on the porch swing. When Brian came down from his shower, we decided to head to the Waterloo Arts Festival.
Which I think, perhaps, should be its own entry. Suffice it to say it was wonderful, if hot. I bought a kitschy ring and received unending compliments on my hair, my sun hat, my nails, my glasses. I do well with a certain crowd. I guess 'old hippies and art types' is that crowd. We ate transcendently fabulous sausages from the Waterloo Farmer's Market and sipped mango iced tea while listening to a singer in the cool shade of a sculpture garden, isolated from the main road.
Tomorrow we shall have to find yet another something wonderful and local to do.
Of course, buying fresh, undried pasta was probably not a good idea at the time. "It'll keep four days in your fridge," the young man selling it told me. I was a bike commuter not going home after work.
I wore my very best biking outfit - my blue polka dot frilly skirt-like-shorts (skorts!) and my Paris t-shirt. Because I knew I'd be seen a lot on my bike ride tonight.
See, Thursday night was Science After Dark at the Science Center. Brian would be showing off his combat demo for Tinselfly. He had to be there at five to set up, but the event wouldn't start until six thirty, and I agreed to bike out to meet him there.
Which I did. Rather than take the shortest route, which would be to take Euclid to East 9th, I took the Harrison Dillard Bikeway up through Rockefeller Park and then the Cleveland Lakefront Bikeway to East 9th. It was sunny and mild, in the seventies with a cool breeze off the lake. I was mostly going downhill the whole way and surrounded by park. I felt sorry for the commuters stuck in traffic on MLK as I zipped past them. Then, on the lakefront, I passed indolent families fishing and walking dogs or just sitting and watching the lake. The water was calm and clear, lapping at the rocks below.
I was startled by a flock of sheep next to Pier 55. How long has THAT been there? Urban farming is really quite the thing these days.
Burke Lakefront Airport feels a lot bigger when you are biking past it and there is so little shade along the runway. This was the only dreary section of the trip.
At the science center I basked in air conditioning and immediately found Game Developer people. The lady at the ticket counter gave me a wristband and drink tickets - the theme tonight was Brewmaster, and there would be microbreweries offering samples throughout the building as well as demonstrations on the science of brewing.
I had a blast, and got quite tipsy on free mead. I'm told I can get the Hop Nectar Mead at the Wine Spot on Lee. SO DOING THAT.
I discovered a children's area on the roof I'd not known about and played with the water-spouting pumps and sprayers while watching an ore boat make its ponderous way across the horizon and sipping chilled mead. I also found the ball pit area. I suspect it was supposed to be closed off from the public. HEE HEE.
After an evening of drunken fun (and Science!) I was grateful both that Brian and I had loaded my bike into the car and that I did not have work the next day.
I woke up a wee bit hungover, which I treated with a glass of water and a Klondike bar. After lazing about a bit, checking email and reading, I decided that I needed to go to Luna Cafe and get something chocolate. I also remembered the fresh pasta, with a four-day lifespan, sitting in the fridge at work.
So I hopped on my bike. Strange how much more pleasant it was to bike my usual commute without it actually being a commute. When I got to the Dental School, I stopped to see Gracie (and grab some time in air conditioning.) I saw her leading a young man into the lab, no doubt to help him with the equipment. She was in her favorite new rose-colored dress. I left without saying hi. Didn't want to interrupt the work day, though I was there, enjoying the illicitness of wandering through a work environment, idle.
I wore my green high-waisted skorts and a white cross-over blouse that is a bit low in the neck. I had pearl and malachite earrings and a malachite bracelet. I was 1940s retro europeanish and not at all work-appropriate.
I decided that I was not ready to get my pasta and head home. I was hot and wanted coolness and perhaps to read or write a bit. As I glided down from the Dental School Podium to Cornel Road, I decided I was going to Wade Oval. I could refill my water bottle at one of the public drinking fountains and sit in the shade to read. It was easy enough to turn left on Euclid from Cornel. So I did.
Lured by the lovely sound of the Fountain of the Waters, I selected a secluded spot under a small flowering tree to sit and read a chapter or two of Light in August, which I am currently devouring. It's at times a beautiful and at times a deeply frustrating book. It seems designed to read outdoors in the summer time, especially to do so in the sound of a fountain in shade as cool as air conditioning.
After a while, though, my butt had quite enough of sitting on grass, and the occassional crawling insects encouraged me to seek out a more indoor situation. "Well," I thought, "I am, right now, AT the art museum. I may as well go inside." I pictured myself just going in to the atrium and sitting a while there under indoor trees to read a bit more, or perhaps write.
First I rode my bike twice around the lagoon because the paths were there and it was fun.
I knew where the bike racks were, tucked into a hidden little cove of the building between entrance and parking garage. I walked eagerly into the cool modern interior, where I was gently but firmly told I needed to check my bag and waterbottle.
In a hurry I took only my journal from the backpack.
I found the atrium busier and more food-smelling than I would have liked, so I went up into the newly opened North wing and found it dedicated to Hindu and Buddhist art. Having only planned to use the art museum as a pleasant backdrop, I wandered raptly from statue to statue, taking in the sinuous torsos and serene faces. I have a particular fondness for very early Buddhas, thin and draped in wet togas.
I sat for a while in a room full of Kali and Shiva and wrote in my journal, glancing up now and then so I would meet the expectations of the other museum goers, that I would appear to be contemplating the art. I was composing a poem about traffic and construction workers.
I passed polo-clad professionals kneeling before the enlightened one to read the plaque.
Not ready to leave, yet, I wandered a bit more, through Persian and Baroque and Napoleanic galleries, jotting notes in my journal. "Apollo stares in confusion, as though asking, 'how did I become French?'"
Just making my idle way back to the front of the museum, I found a temporary exhibit on Albrecht Durer. His lines kill me. I stared and wrote and stared and wrote.
I left the museum feeling my mind and heart were surfeited on a banquet of art, but my tummy was rumbling, ready for that promised cupcake.
I biked a lap of Wade Park, glancing at the historical marker. I used the water fountain, which was right where I remembered it being. I saw another cyclist resting on the low stone wall next to the garden center. I decided to leave the park via East 108th. Passing the Historical Society, I was seized with a desire for more museum time, particularly to see the carousel exhibit. But they did not have a readily-apparent bike rack, and I was getting tired and hungry, so I just continued on my way to the building where I work, where I popped in quickly to grab my pasta and my iPod, which I'd left on my desk.
I had Korn to help me up Edgehill. It didn't feel nearly so huge a hill, knowing that instead of continuing after it up the next hill and eventually home I was stopping at Cedar-Fairmont for a treat.
At Luna Cafe I had an iced chai and a Chocolate Oreo Cupcake which was about everything one can hope for in a cupcake, moist and sweet and piled with four inches of creamy frosting.
I forced myself to write a LITTLE.
I got home around five thirty, just as I would normally have, and sat on the porch swing with my Faulkner and a glass of ice water. The mail carrier, seeing me, brought me a package right to my seat. What a dear lady! And it was my long-desired dress from Ebay!
I showered and changed into the dress and cooked up the fresh Ohio City pasta with butter, garlic, zucchini and mushrooms.
Let's face it. Friday rocked.
Today, I woke up early, had the last Klondike Bar while reading my book on the porch swing. When Brian came down from his shower, we decided to head to the Waterloo Arts Festival.
Which I think, perhaps, should be its own entry. Suffice it to say it was wonderful, if hot. I bought a kitschy ring and received unending compliments on my hair, my sun hat, my nails, my glasses. I do well with a certain crowd. I guess 'old hippies and art types' is that crowd. We ate transcendently fabulous sausages from the Waterloo Farmer's Market and sipped mango iced tea while listening to a singer in the cool shade of a sculpture garden, isolated from the main road.
Tomorrow we shall have to find yet another something wonderful and local to do.