-- "Speeding," the Go-Go's
If I'd spent my Friday doing all the things I'd meant to do, instead of bopping off to NE Lincoln to take my newly grad-e-a-ted cousin Sarah to lunch, I never would've gotten a speeding ticket. The officer didn't seem impressed by the facts that (a) the road seemed rural (especially driving past a newly decimated North Forty Golf Course -- sad); (2) I was just following the guy in front of me (who also got a ticket).
Sigh. I just took the STOP class last spring. I hate to think what my next insurance bill will be. I think Krista's right -- I need to put a block on my speedometer.
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Market day.
Mizzes K and A and I, escorted by "Big" Tom, rode our bikes downtown this morning. I've been negligent -- May's nearly over, and this was my first Farmers Market of the year. Spring mix and sunflower sprouts from Shadowbrook Farms; spicy white radishes from a kid with a talent for salesmanship; tortillas and a nifty new totebag from Emma and Jill's stall; jewelry; giant bubble wands for the niece/nephews.
Detoured over to Urban Trail Gardens, a new nursery at Fourth and F streets. It's small, but they have some good, healthy plants and a great selection of succulents. They live just across Randolph from me, so I want to throw some business their way.
Spent the rest of the day raking out all the old mulch the former owners had spread just before I bought the house. Dyed wood chips marketed as "Husker Red" -- really! Dumped all that detritus behind the lilac bushes; dug some peat moss and nonchemical fertilizer into the clay I call soil; and spread a new, thick layer of natural (Husker-free) cedar.
(The smell of cedar, btw, always reminds me of porn. When I was growing up, my best friend next door had a stepfather who kept his Playboys in a cedar storage closet. Her older brother wasn't allowed to go in there, so he had us nick copies of the magazine for him. Thus cedar always evokes Barbie Benton in my mind ...)
New mulch, garden-dirty fingers and new ring (spiral alert!) from the market:
First peony from the garden:
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Music, trivial.
A new friend shared with me this lovely passage from "The Heart is a Lonely Hunter." The first paragraph sounds to my ear strikingly of Hemingway. Makes we want to revisit McCullers.
This music did not take a long time or a short time. It did not have anything to do with time going by at all. She sat with her arms held tight around her legs, biting her salty knee very hard. It might have been five minutes she listened or half the night. The second part was black-colored -- a slow march. Not sad, but like the whole world was dead and black and there was no use thinking back how it was before. One of those horn kind of instruments played a sad and silver tune. Then the music rose up angry and with excitement underneath. And finally the black march again. But maybe the last part of the symphony was the music she loved best - glad and like the greatest people in the world running and springing up in a hard, free way. Wonderful music like this was the worst hurt there could be. The whole world was this symphony, and there was not enough of her to listen.
Far less eloquently, Amy and I were reminiscing the other day about the days of K-Tel albums and Columbia Record Club -- 13 albums for ONE PENNY! I distinctly remember "Bat Out of Hell" was one of my original 13. Amy said she thought Loverboy was one of hers.
"I was totally into Loverboy," I said.
"I still like you," Amy assured me.
Then she blew my mind by telling me Exene had become a grade school teacher/librarian -- when she's not still making kickass punk rock music, which she still is. That's on top of Scott last week blowing my mind by saying she has a kid with Viggo Mortensen. I'm obviously not on top of my Exene trivia. Must go study.
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Quotes of the day:
Mom: "What did you do with Grandma?"
Daughter: "I don't know ... she ran away."
-- overheard at the Farmers Market
"We're in the throes of passion!" -- Tom, engaging in massive PDA with Amy, also at the Farmers Market
"Well, go throw your passion someplace else." -- me (pretty good line off the cuff, I think)
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Things to do Sunday:
On what would have been her 100th birthday, give a memorial shout-out to Rachel Carson for alerting the world to the dangers of pesticides.
Meet us at 84th and O at 9:30 and let's ride! (Unless it's really raining.)
8 comments:
Here i want to say i shared the music "The Heart is a Lonely Hunter" with one friend on EbonyFriends.com and we have the same feeling.
"Husker Red" -- really!
It's madness I say, madness. At a meeting the other day, we were discussing workplace as tribe (??) and the Huskers were decided to be the largest and most wide spread in the state. Others might disagree! Still boggles my mind that merchandise such as wood chips can be part of the unofficial Husker brand.
I only saw X once, many years ago, but I didn't know she was a teacher. Very cool.
Vicky
Vicky: You write poetry AND you like(d) X? We need to meet in person!! Work downtown, by any chance?
(I also have that gorgeous penstemon "Husker Red," a name I will forgive as it was developed at UNL's site up in Mead, and marketing is everything in this world, no? Beautiful, deep red foliage, believe it was an All-America selection a few years back, and growing like a mother -- dwarfing the rest of that bed.)
Daniel: That was the most personal spam message I have ever seen in my life. That's just weird.
I do! Email me, my address is on my blog. I liked X enough, but they weren't my absolute favorite. My housemate in college loved them dearly though! LOL
V
Darnit, didn't read this until 12 hours too late! I'm thinking I'll take an early a.m. ride Monday though... up for something around 8 a.m.?
"Turn me Loose" -- turn me off. Meatloaf falls into that category of so-bad-it's-good.
The irony of Husker Red mulch is that during season, just like the team's success, it will fade.
William
Not irony -- perfect metaphor! Good to have you home, Guillermo.
Scott: Obviously I was *not* up for an 8 a.m. ride Monday -- sorry I just saw this. How was your holiday?
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