This morning, [livejournal.com profile] cattitude and I walked through the park, stopping to feed the mallards (and the herring gulls and Canada geese, who you can't really keep away). I pointed out all the crocuses I'd spotted yesterday, both the ones that had been there but closed when he'd walked by before, because it was cloudy, and the ones he hadn't noticed. In return, he showed me a periwinkle amongst the crocuses.

Then I went downtown and worked out: it was a bit shorter than ideal, because my hands and wrists were complaining after a while, which ruled out anything that required me to grip. After exercising, I walked a few blocks to Tea Den, a Chinese restaurant on Eighth Avenue: the food was good, as usual, but they've got flickery lighting now, so I may not go back for quite some time. But I saw a daffodil in bloom in the little plaza on the next block north, my first of Spring (as distinct from cut flowers or those in pots).

Uptown to 181st Street for rye bread. Ran into Amy Fass on exiting the subway, and we chatted for a few minutes; she's a long-time fannish acquaintance of mine, not someone I've ever been close to, but I saw her and said hi and we talked about work and the frustrations thereof (she's also a copyeditor). I stopped into the little Russian grocery, for no particular reason. They had half-sour pickles in the refrigerated case, so I got a quart. Also some peach nectar, once I found an ingredients list in a language I could read (español, rather than the Russian that most of the printing was in) and a bar of dark chocolate. Gruenbaum's for seeded rye bread, and then a florist just south of 181st for a pot of small daffodils, before I got on the bus uptown.

There are a lot of daffodils in bloom on the grounds of Dyckman House. Unfortunately, I won't be able to get close, because it's closed for renovations (it's a museum, the last farmhouse building in Manhattan), but they were all yellow and cheery even from a moving bus on the far side of Broadway.

gym details )
This morning, [livejournal.com profile] cattitude and I walked through the park, stopping to feed the mallards (and the herring gulls and Canada geese, who you can't really keep away). I pointed out all the crocuses I'd spotted yesterday, both the ones that had been there but closed when he'd walked by before, because it was cloudy, and the ones he hadn't noticed. In return, he showed me a periwinkle amongst the crocuses.

Then I went downtown and worked out: it was a bit shorter than ideal, because my hands and wrists were complaining after a while, which ruled out anything that required me to grip. After exercising, I walked a few blocks to Tea Den, a Chinese restaurant on Eighth Avenue: the food was good, as usual, but they've got flickery lighting now, so I may not go back for quite some time. But I saw a daffodil in bloom in the little plaza on the next block north, my first of Spring (as distinct from cut flowers or those in pots).

Uptown to 181st Street for rye bread. Ran into Amy Fass on exiting the subway, and we chatted for a few minutes; she's a long-time fannish acquaintance of mine, not someone I've ever been close to, but I saw her and said hi and we talked about work and the frustrations thereof (she's also a copyeditor). I stopped into the little Russian grocery, for no particular reason. They had half-sour pickles in the refrigerated case, so I got a quart. Also some peach nectar, once I found an ingredients list in a language I could read (español, rather than the Russian that most of the printing was in) and a bar of dark chocolate. Gruenbaum's for seeded rye bread, and then a florist just south of 181st for a pot of small daffodils, before I got on the bus uptown.

There are a lot of daffodils in bloom on the grounds of Dyckman House. Unfortunately, I won't be able to get close, because it's closed for renovations (it's a museum, the last farmhouse building in Manhattan), but they were all yellow and cheery even from a moving bus on the far side of Broadway.

gym details )
In the course of my wandering and gathering today, I passed a streetcorner political table. It mostly looked reasonable enough: signs against the war in Iraq and comparing Bush and Pinochet. Then I saw the sign that not only mentioned Lyndon La Rouche, but the Treaty of Westphalia. They didn't say whether they were for or against the Peace of Westphalia, but it seems a bit late for their opinions on the matter to have much weight.
In the course of my wandering and gathering today, I passed a streetcorner political table. It mostly looked reasonable enough: signs against the war in Iraq and comparing Bush and Pinochet. Then I saw the sign that not only mentioned Lyndon La Rouche, but the Treaty of Westphalia. They didn't say whether they were for or against the Peace of Westphalia, but it seems a bit late for their opinions on the matter to have much weight.
Celebrity/gossip columnist Liz Smith always starts her column with a quote, something random that's presumably supposed to be amusing or thought-provoking. It's the only bit of her column I read, because the quotes are often interesting and always brief.

Today, credited to Tertullian, was the statement "It is certain because it is possible."
Celebrity/gossip columnist Liz Smith always starts her column with a quote, something random that's presumably supposed to be amusing or thought-provoking. It's the only bit of her column I read, because the quotes are often interesting and always brief.

Today, credited to Tertullian, was the statement "It is certain because it is possible."
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