goatee

°2021.06.21.Mon | Watermelon and mint soba

Summer time is a time of cold salads. For lunch I’m finishing yesterday’s improvised sesame soba with tofu, watermelon, and mint!

°2021.02.20.Sat | Punx (Hair) Not Dead

As a young goth or punk, you learn to give yourself and friends haircuts. This past year takes me back: Nora, working from home, has been opting for edgier styles, and I’ve been implementing them with scissors and trimmers in hand.

°2021.02.18.Thu | Returning to Old Dog Hill

Amidst the slushy doldrums of February I find myself thinking of a return to old dog hill.

The new extension of the old Cambridge library straddles a small hill. The rain sluices off, making for a comfortable and dry position from which to survey the park and its denizens.

When Casper was younger, we’d pass the hill on the way to the corner of the park where the dogs chase and wrestle. Casper had balls to snatch from the air and dogs to best in tug. We never gave the hill any thought until a middle-aged man and his old retriever became evening fixtures. He sat beside his Golden, idly petting her as she held a tennis ball in her whitened muzzle in remembrance of more active days. That’s when we took to calling it old dog hill.

After a few years, the man and his dog relinquished the hill. Shortly thereafter, we claimed the spot as our own.

Casper’s mid-air collisions and tug battles have left him with a bad back. Weather permitting, we sit on the hill, speaking to passersby, idly petting Casper, and tossing a ball every few minutes for him to leisurely fetch in remembrance of more active days.

We sometimes still see the man walking to the library, alone. And as he passes I wonder if he thinks as we once did, “there they are, on old dog hill.”

✽

How tug-crazy was Casper? Witness.

°2020.12.21.Mon | What counts as meat?

Rebecca Schuman’s Schadenfreude, A Love Story reminds me of my favorite zines from the naughts, and I’m enjoying her stories of high-school angst and collegiate travel from that era.

Last night I laughed with recognition when she learned, as a vegetarian in Germany, that the little cubes of ham on her broccoli and cheese was not meat but ham (“Das ist doch kein Fleisch – das ist Schinken.”)

I’ve had similar experiences traveling the world as a vegetarian:

• In Europe and Asia, ham, chicken, and fish are not necessarily “meat.”
• In Asia, a “vegetarian” dumpling can have fish sauce.
• In Asia, asking for “vegetarian” food can also mean no onion or garlic because the diet is closely associated with Buddhist monastics who swear off pungent vegetables.

°2020.12.21.Mon | Winter rosemary

Winter pizza night
The rosemary is still green
Under the snow

°2020.12.14.Mon | Lunchtime sun at Breakheart Reservation

December lunch
the scarred winter sun
sits low but warm

°2020.11.08.Sun | Breakheart Reservation Pond

°2020.10.24.Sat | Masks in the alley

°2020.09.27.Sun | Raising the flag at Powder House Park

°2020.09.23.Wed | Mr. Neuman’s overhead projector

COVID19 has meant the end of many things. This bin of overhead projectors – displaced by fancy new “solstice pods” – made me think of my high school astronomy teacher, Mr. Nueman.

Sitting next to the glowing glass, with colored pens in hand, he illustrated his lectures on acetate sheets. I’ve yet to see this teaching technique rivaled.

What a privilege it was to have a small planetarium and astronomy teacher in high school!