I’m off north tomorrow morning. There is a fair chance of rain Wednesday and Thursday, with some thunder and lightning thrown in. Temps in the Fahrenheit mid-80s (35-ish Celsius). Humidity in low 60s. The famously spectacular views from West Bond and Bondcliff will probably be obscured. I’ll just have to return with H&A ... and perhaps, eventually, the little one. There’s a version of this walk that is a traverse, as opposed to my planned loop. With a jolly crew and a second car, that would be great fun.
I always eat well when I go north, where I have the use of a friend’s cottage on the west (Vermont) side of the Connecticut River. Best of all, there’s home cookin’ at J&P’s. I also often have a dinner with J&P or others at the Canoe Club in Hanover or the Norwich Inn back across the river in Vermont, where brewmaster Patrick Dakin, who with aplomb played a major role in H&A’s wedding celebration, creates small and rotating batches of his excellent beers. Mornings, I frequent comfy, friendly Isabell’s cafe in East Thetford (fresh ingrediants, homemade baked goods) or, if I’m headed that way, the previously mentioned Polly’s Pancake Parlor in Sugar Hill, New Hampshire (the plan for Wednesday morning). Before I come home, I usually stop at the Hanover Co-op to buy a few loaves of Red Hen ciabatta and, if it’s available, a big chunk of the best cheddar I’ve ever tasted, Cabot/Jasper Hill Clothbound. Maple sugar (Grade B: much tastier than that flashy, lightweight Grade A stuff) and good farm hard cider sometimes round out the shopping. When it’s open in the summer, I also often stop on the way up or back in Putney, Vermont, at the funky Curtis’ BBQ (lunch tomorrow for sure).
Out.
Monday, July 7, 2008
Sunday, July 6, 2008
Packing up
It’s pretty settled, I think. I’m declining the trip to Seattle this week, and instead, barring truly atrocious weather or another significant infelicity, will head north for the mountains. I’ll see some friends, have a breakfast at the nonpareil Polly’s Pancake Parlor, spend two days walking something close to the route I’ve written about, then wander home in time for the usual Friday evening pasta-fest.
This is shaping up as a solo, since H is eight months pregnant and in Minnesota, and nobody else I’ve approached has the time or inclination (what is with these people?). I’ll be on generally familiar ground, though, and anticipate a bit of what I’m sure will be good company near Guyot Shelter in the evening.
I mentioned in an earlier post the 48 New Hampshire 4,000-footers as rough equivalents of Scotland’s Munros. I’ve never made much of an effort to complete my list, but I feel a need to get something done to compensate for my Challenge disappointment. On this stroll I’ll cross the summits of four (or maybe five) I haven’t yet checked off, which I think would put me in the mid-30s. If I’m able to steal another few days later in the month or on into fall, I have the Kinsmans (from the Rt. 116 trail head to the west) in my sights. And three or four more that have always seemed to me to be great winter goals. So one obsession may be replacing another.
This is shaping up as a solo, since H is eight months pregnant and in Minnesota, and nobody else I’ve approached has the time or inclination (what is with these people?). I’ll be on generally familiar ground, though, and anticipate a bit of what I’m sure will be good company near Guyot Shelter in the evening.
I mentioned in an earlier post the 48 New Hampshire 4,000-footers as rough equivalents of Scotland’s Munros. I’ve never made much of an effort to complete my list, but I feel a need to get something done to compensate for my Challenge disappointment. On this stroll I’ll cross the summits of four (or maybe five) I haven’t yet checked off, which I think would put me in the mid-30s. If I’m able to steal another few days later in the month or on into fall, I have the Kinsmans (from the Rt. 116 trail head to the west) in my sights. And three or four more that have always seemed to me to be great winter goals. So one obsession may be replacing another.
Saturday, July 5, 2008
Puddle jumping
We had a lovely light rain overnight, and it was still coming tenaciously down early this morning. This is the kind of weather I most love to run in. In the cemetery, the big puddle we call Lake H covered the path and I splashed merrily through.
Every time I do this I think of a day when H was still a littlish girl and we’d been out getting damp together. The driveway of our house in those days had, off to its side, a depression that filled temptingly after every rain.
As we walked past it on this day, I jumped into it with both feet, throwing up a sheet of water that soaked her already damp legs and shoes. She, naturally, leapt in to repay me in kind, and we spend a loud and happy minute laughing and stamping and dancing and making sure the other was thoroughly wet through. The memory has been good for a smile and a chuckle ever since—a joy I can summon just by getting my feet wet.
Every time I do this I think of a day when H was still a littlish girl and we’d been out getting damp together. The driveway of our house in those days had, off to its side, a depression that filled temptingly after every rain.
As we walked past it on this day, I jumped into it with both feet, throwing up a sheet of water that soaked her already damp legs and shoes. She, naturally, leapt in to repay me in kind, and we spend a loud and happy minute laughing and stamping and dancing and making sure the other was thoroughly wet through. The memory has been good for a smile and a chuckle ever since—a joy I can summon just by getting my feet wet.
Friday, July 4, 2008
The Onion...it makes you cry
I wonder why it doesn’t seem to register with the networks that the best journalism in America is parody.
Bush Tours America To Survey Damage Caused By His Disastrous Presidency
Bush Tours America To Survey Damage Caused By His Disastrous Presidency
Thursday, July 3, 2008
Le livre d’aujourd’hui
Paul’s gone cosmopolite on me again, so I was solo for walk as well as shuffle this morning. This gave me the chance to swap iPods between events, and hook up to a book I’ve been listening to in the car, called The Apprentice: My Life in the Kitchen, by Jacques Pepin. I liked Pepin from the first time I saw him on TV, with his wonderful French accent, easy-going approach to technique, and general joy at the counter and stove. But I became a real fan when I realized that he, too, was the slightly stunned father of a beautiful, charming, and accomplished daughter.
I’m no foodie. If someone asks me for the best place to eat around here, I’m likely to recommend Blackie’s, home of the world’s best hot dogs (and conveniently between me and the nearest REI). But Pepin’s story of a classic French apprenticeship, followed by a life in the US using and modifying what he had learned, is fascinating. And he seems like a guy who’d appreciate Blackie’s, too.
I can’t start listening to this book on the Shuffle, because I could never find the spot where I left off, so I’m still searching for an appropriate replacement for what this morning began with “Come Softly to Me” and ended with “Silhouettes”. Let me take you out today with a dulcet and deeply meaningful Wa-wa-ooooooo.
I’m no foodie. If someone asks me for the best place to eat around here, I’m likely to recommend Blackie’s, home of the world’s best hot dogs (and conveniently between me and the nearest REI). But Pepin’s story of a classic French apprenticeship, followed by a life in the US using and modifying what he had learned, is fascinating. And he seems like a guy who’d appreciate Blackie’s, too.
I can’t start listening to this book on the Shuffle, because I could never find the spot where I left off, so I’m still searching for an appropriate replacement for what this morning began with “Come Softly to Me” and ended with “Silhouettes”. Let me take you out today with a dulcet and deeply meaningful Wa-wa-ooooooo.
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
Enough, already
Sunday: “Lean on Me”/“Sincerely”.
Monday: “Just One Look”/“Leavin’ It Up to You”
Tuesday: “Bye Bye Love”/“Stand By Me”
Today: “Spanish Harlem”/“Respect”
It’s been pretty hot and humid, so I’ve been shuffling early. The ankle has been fine, and all my other parts seem temporarily to be functioning as designed. Moving is still feeling good, and getting out at the crack of dawn every morning leaves me with that preening, self-satisfied glow that is so attractive to others.
It’s the music that’s starting to get to me.
I’ve never been a music man as a runner. I don’t have whatever skills it takes to properly engage the gears among brain, lungs, and muscle, and listen to tunes at the same time. That’s why I go for the sounds when it’s important those gears not be effectively engaged.
A few years ago, I consulted with friends, plumbed my own memory, made a list, and downloaded an even 100 ’50s and ’60s pop songs to iTunes for events surrounding a major twist ’n shout social event. It’s a large subset of this stuff that I loaded to the Shuffle as tunes to go slow by.
I like Oldies. They remind me of moments that the passage of time has lit with golden sun and populated with happy people doing uniquely splendid things. But with rare exceptions that’s really all they are to me: mere nostalgia, a realm that, after I thank my dance partner, wipe my brow, and tuck in my shirt, has always given me the quick willies. So piping this stuff into my ears every morning has gotten old fast.
So I’m thinking of trying a book. There’s nothing better to distract your attention, which is the point here. But books don’t work all that well on the Shuffle. Although you can suppress the shuffling, you can’t see where you are or run things back a few minutes if you want to hear that bit of wit or moment of stunning pomposity again. Perhaps I’ll give it a try all the same. Something shortish for starters. Maybe something about music.
Monday: “Just One Look”/“Leavin’ It Up to You”
Tuesday: “Bye Bye Love”/“Stand By Me”
Today: “Spanish Harlem”/“Respect”
It’s been pretty hot and humid, so I’ve been shuffling early. The ankle has been fine, and all my other parts seem temporarily to be functioning as designed. Moving is still feeling good, and getting out at the crack of dawn every morning leaves me with that preening, self-satisfied glow that is so attractive to others.
It’s the music that’s starting to get to me.
I’ve never been a music man as a runner. I don’t have whatever skills it takes to properly engage the gears among brain, lungs, and muscle, and listen to tunes at the same time. That’s why I go for the sounds when it’s important those gears not be effectively engaged.
A few years ago, I consulted with friends, plumbed my own memory, made a list, and downloaded an even 100 ’50s and ’60s pop songs to iTunes for events surrounding a major twist ’n shout social event. It’s a large subset of this stuff that I loaded to the Shuffle as tunes to go slow by.
I like Oldies. They remind me of moments that the passage of time has lit with golden sun and populated with happy people doing uniquely splendid things. But with rare exceptions that’s really all they are to me: mere nostalgia, a realm that, after I thank my dance partner, wipe my brow, and tuck in my shirt, has always given me the quick willies. So piping this stuff into my ears every morning has gotten old fast.
So I’m thinking of trying a book. There’s nothing better to distract your attention, which is the point here. But books don’t work all that well on the Shuffle. Although you can suppress the shuffling, you can’t see where you are or run things back a few minutes if you want to hear that bit of wit or moment of stunning pomposity again. Perhaps I’ll give it a try all the same. Something shortish for starters. Maybe something about music.
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
The Glorious 4th
This Friday will be the 4th of July. Parades, picnics, fireworks, all that stuff. For 10 or 12 years in the ’80s and ’90s our family and a bunch of friends migrated to a nearby town for a gigantic community do. I used to steam mussels, friends brought their specialties, we drank a lot of beer and wine, and as it got dark we settled back for a long, noisy, wonderful fireworks display. For some years now, we’ve been joining friends with a swimming pool for a somewhat more genteel afternoon of paddling, tasting, and sipping. The highlight of the event isn’t fireworks, but a reading of the Declaration of Independence. Most of us are of an age to have been required to memorize parts of the Declaration in school, and as we listen we tend to recite it to ourselves as many do the Book of Common Prayer. It is one of humanity’s great documents, and it can still inspire awe—not just in Americans, I think.
Many of us forget, though, that the bulk of it—the long middle section we weren’t required to commit to memory—is a litany of complaints against George III. The signers believed that “a decent respect to the opinions of mankind” required that that the world know why they were taking such an extraordinary and dangerous step. This part of the Declaration is often considered quaint, even funny, at this distant remove. But in 2008, only the dullest listener or reader could fail to notice that many of the items enumerated to demonstrate “a history of repeated injuries and usurpations, all having in direct object the establishment of an absolute Tyranny” aren’t very different at all from what the current President of the United States, his administration, and his party in Congress have been busy with over the last seven years.
Ben Franklin once famously said, “The man who trades freedom for security doesn’t deserve either.” This is a universe away our current political standard, enunciated by the administration and its boot-lickers, who have done their craven best to make that transaction seem like common sense, rather than the cowardly surrender to terror that it is. For example, Senator Pat Roberts (R-Kansas), asserts, “I am a strong supporter of the First Amendment, the Fourth Amendment and civil liberties, but you have no civil liberties if you are dead.”
Right, Senator, and I’m sure the men who put their heads in a noose by signing the document we celebrate this week would appreciate the sentiment. Besides, it’s no big deal. The First Amendment merely guarantees freedom of religion, speech, the press, assembly, and peaceful protest. The Fourth Amendment is truly subversive … it prohibits unreasonable searches and seizures.
At the end of the Constitutional deliberations in 1789, Franklin was asked. “Well, Doctor, what have we got—a Republic or a Monarchy?”
“A Republic, if you can keep it.”
The jury’s still out. Oh, wait, do we still do juries?
Many of us forget, though, that the bulk of it—the long middle section we weren’t required to commit to memory—is a litany of complaints against George III. The signers believed that “a decent respect to the opinions of mankind” required that that the world know why they were taking such an extraordinary and dangerous step. This part of the Declaration is often considered quaint, even funny, at this distant remove. But in 2008, only the dullest listener or reader could fail to notice that many of the items enumerated to demonstrate “a history of repeated injuries and usurpations, all having in direct object the establishment of an absolute Tyranny” aren’t very different at all from what the current President of the United States, his administration, and his party in Congress have been busy with over the last seven years.
Ben Franklin once famously said, “The man who trades freedom for security doesn’t deserve either.” This is a universe away our current political standard, enunciated by the administration and its boot-lickers, who have done their craven best to make that transaction seem like common sense, rather than the cowardly surrender to terror that it is. For example, Senator Pat Roberts (R-Kansas), asserts, “I am a strong supporter of the First Amendment, the Fourth Amendment and civil liberties, but you have no civil liberties if you are dead.”
Right, Senator, and I’m sure the men who put their heads in a noose by signing the document we celebrate this week would appreciate the sentiment. Besides, it’s no big deal. The First Amendment merely guarantees freedom of religion, speech, the press, assembly, and peaceful protest. The Fourth Amendment is truly subversive … it prohibits unreasonable searches and seizures.
At the end of the Constitutional deliberations in 1789, Franklin was asked. “Well, Doctor, what have we got—a Republic or a Monarchy?”
“A Republic, if you can keep it.”
The jury’s still out. Oh, wait, do we still do juries?
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