I’m trying to be a good tourist (and history major) and read up on the things I will visit when I go to Washington DC. I’ve found a very nice site on the history of the Metro. It isn’t super wordy, and has a trove of great images, such as the one above which was a bond referendum poster. You can read all about the history of this transit system by going to: http://chnm.gmu.edu/metro/index.html
It’s especially fun to compare the planning maps to the current one.
Respite.
Friday night activities are hard on me. I’m usually tired from the work week and want nothing more than to collapse on the couch and read. Also, I’m done with work at the super early hour of 4:30 pm and this makes it inconvenient for me to attend gatherings which usually start at six or seven pm. Do I go home and come back? Do I hang out downtown for a few hours? It seems to much to figure. Every once in awhile, I do venture out on Friday night. Here is how one such adventure of filling time turned out.
Today, we were meeting at 7 pm. It is the end of the school year (yet school goes on and on!) and I was exhausted. I headed to the library to pick up some holds, read there until close to six and then wandered down to Pioneer Square to hang out on the steps until seven.
I had no idea what an amazing pick-me-up this would be. Each year Pioneer Courthouse Square is decorated during the Rose Festival for a Festival of Flowers. The display has a theme each year, this year’s was “Parterre.” After the event is over the general public can purchase the flowers and shrubbery at greatly discounted prices. The displays are usually visually striking, but this year I was in love with the Adirondack chairs. As were many other people. I sat and read and people watched and drank in the city until I felt much, much better.I eventually switched chairs so I could have a footrest and had this view. The clouds didn’t even deter me. When it started to sprinkle, I got out my umbrella and kept reading.
As a bonus, on the way to the restaurant, I came across this great old-timey band.
We have sent a man to the moon….
Tagged!
At the end of May, Sara from Pike Schemes got tagged. Though Sara didn’t single me out, (probably because she knew I would be slow in responding) I did follow the rules and here I am. I’m eating lunch in my boss’ office because my computer was being used by the bookkeeper. I’ve just treated myself to some leftover Fritos from the school lunch. My hair is very long.
Theoretically, I would tag some other people too, but given how long it has taken me to get this posted, I think the moment has died.
Requiem: Colander
I’ve had this colander since college and it has served me well. I like its large sized holes, good for draining, and its color that isn’t really purple and isn’t really blue. Alas, its bottom is falling out and we are losing food. So off it goes, to that great kitchen in the sky.
Update: this colander has gained a second life as a produce harvester.
Three sentence movie reviews–I Love You, Man
I took Matt to see this and he enjoyed it. One of the things I enjoyed about this movie, on second viewing, was the complete lack of harpy-ness of Rashida Jones’ character. Most movies of this genre would have the female lead be more shrill.
Bechdel review. Two women: sort of. Who talk to each other: somewhat. About something besides a guy: nope.
Grand Floral Parade
My mother and my Aunt Pat joined me for the Grand Floral Parade. We had great seats right at the beginning and enjoyed not being rained on, despite the ominous look of the clouds. We did not enjoy the many, many delays even though we were about 300 yards from the beginning of the parade. The picture theme for this parade was “find the girl drummers” and there weren’t very many. So there are other pictures too.
One of our favorite games to play is “spot the band director.” This gentleman makes it easy by sporting a tux. Sometimes they are a bit more stealthy.
Westview does have girl drummers, but they are bass drummers which don’t count because the girl drummers are often relegated to bass drums.
As I say during every parade, “Back when I was in marching band, we had no parents toting water for us to drink. We just sucked it up and marched!” Also, I miss the flared cheerleader skirts. The whole fun part of the cheerleader costume is that flaired skirt. Kids today!
I love the Royal Rosarians and their simultaneous hat tipping. Their cream wool suits and capes are nifty too. I hope to someday be a Royal Rosarian.
Advice
May Catchup!
Arrrrgh! I’ve just discovered a whole folder of photos from May! I will have to go back in time to post them, which means I’m breaking my rule of posting in order. Much apologies, but you can use the links below to find the posts you may have missed.
Graffiti at Portland State
Not Something You See Everyday
Leverage filming here. Lucky us.
Back to the bus mall!
Dead Relatives Tour
Bus tip: Enjoy your private coach
Waiting for the Starlight Parade
That list of links should catch you up nicely.
Poem for May: Sea Fever.
Sea Fever
I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,
And the wheel’s kick and the wind’s song and the white sail’s shaking,
And a gray mist on the sea’s face, and a gray dawn breaking.
I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.
I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull’s way and the whale’s way, where the wind’s like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick’s over.
John Masefield
I first encountered this poem in an anthology I read for English class in High School. I really loved the sea at the time, especially because I rarely got to go down to the sea, being a resident of a land-locked state.
This is a great poem to memorize; the words flow together and the initial memorization only took me a few days. I spent the rest of the month making sure it was stuck fast in my head. The hardest part was figuring out the best way to get by the word “spume” which, depending on the audience might cause giggles. The word sounds vaguely naughty–one can imagine it being utilized in a porn title–and means foam, froth or scum.
While reciting the poem, I was struck that few people I know have such a need to “go down to” their job. Who would write such a poem about coding, or filling prescriptions or being a secretary at a charter school?