Each day, I drive 100 miles to and from my job. With 500 new miles on my odometer at the end of every week, I don’t find myself longing to travel as much as I’m used to. I’m already in transit quite enough these days, thankyouverymuch.
If you respond with, “African or European?” you’d be corrected by my friends this morning, as I was.
“The line is actually ‘the airspeed velocity’,” they said.
But out of curiosity, we decided to look it up. And to our astonishment, everywhere the internet asks about the terminal velocity of a swallow, the internet replies: Don’t you mean airspeed?
No, internet. No we do not. So we figured it out. Because this is what my friends do on a rainy Saturday morning.
Here, for your Monty Python-inspired yet strictly speaking off-script queries as to the terminal velocity of a sparrow, I bring you … The Math.
If you’ve been following me on Facebook or Twitter, you might know I recently spent some time in Philadelphia. My first day there, while waiting for my cousin (of October 27th fame) and her fiancé to get home from work, I stopped by The Continental for coffee.
But in Philly, nothing stands on its own. There’s always history. And on the Continental building was a Historic Sites in Journalism plaque explaining that, way back in the late 18th century, this was John Dunlap’s printing shop.
What, you don’t know John Dunlap? He’s only the printer who first stamped out distributable copies of the Declaration of Independence.
Langston Hughes wrote a famous poem about a dream deferred. I’ve been reciting it in my head a lot during the past month, ever since reality hit in Scotland and it became clear that the pursuit of my sheep farm dream was ending up far unlike I had, well, dreamed it would.
But this poem—a brilliant piece of art, go read it if you don’t know it—is about putting off a dream. As Hughes writes, when we put off our dreams, they can dry up, fester, or even explode. It’s scary to put off dreams. But we do it anyway.
Today, my BeFF went to Pittsburgh to pick up a new saxophone, and she invited me to tag along. I was up for a trip, and she has the Hamilton soundtrack, so I took her up on the offer.
This isn’t a narrative, just a few oddities and curiosities I snapped on my phone while we were out along the Monongahela. Enjoy.
Hey readers, I’ve been up to the usual since last writing—prepping my packing list, giving my bike its spring checkup, surprising my brother on his birthday, and teaching friends how to knit—but today I have one simple thing to share:
What’s in it?
- Red pepper
- Black beans
- Shredded cheddar
Excuse me; I need to get back to this.
3/13/2016 Update: I more or less followed this recipe on PopSugar, but instead of making the cilantro-lime dressing (which I’ve had before, and which is amazing), I decided to use some Trader Joe’s salsa hanging out in my cabinet. Both versions are delicious and beautiful!
Back when I lived in Madison, I drove past several Asian grocery stores on my way home from work each day, and thanks to friends in the know, I got hooked on certain products from their mysterious and inviting shelves. I thought I’d be fine when I moved back to PA, but no. Inevitably, I began feeling the need for sweet red bean paste, citron tea, and glutinous rice flour, none of which are available in my little town.
Enter Penn State University. Thanks to the international student body, the town of State College can sustain several Asian grocery stores, and on Monday, I took a field trip to stock up on supplies.
At first I thought I wanted to go by myself, and then I started to picture my grandma in these stores and invited her to come along. At 90 years old, my grandma loves grocery shopping, and she was thrilled to join me and my mom for an all-new grocery store experience.
Guys, Merry Christmas to ME! After a month of being computerless, I finally bit the bullet and bought a new laptop. I don’t want to get into which kind I got because I don’t want to be all product-placement about it, but I love it, and it’s fast, and I’m keeping it far away from water.
In the meantime, what have I been up to, you ask? Continue reading
Ok, so it’s not really a disaster, but it is a disappointment. My laptop got watered, and it’s unfixable for less than $750. (Watered? you ask. It was under a hanging basket that overflowed.)
It’s hard for me to write on a phone, so there’s been a lull in my posts. Also, I’m not sure what I’ll replace my laptop with. Any ideas? Must be quick and must love travel (kind of like my choice in men…). I’d prefer to spend less than $500, since I’m living on a limited budget.
It’s been a week since we said goodbye to the Wookiee, and I’ve decided to write this post as though it never happened. It’s a part of my life, and I’m still sad, but it’s not a part of the weekend I spent in Baltimore, which is what I’m writing about.
That weekend, I spent several nights with my BFF. We went to a fruit tree festival in Druid Hill Park, where the kids bobbed for apples in a downpour, and we took the Light Rail to the Guster concert at Ram’s Head. We put together a puzzle and watched Master Chef, and I played with their kiddos every evening. (Meaning, they bilaterally threw blankets over my head for a two-fold attack. Aunthood was so much easier when there was only one! I’ll never win against Team Sibling.) We went to a mutual friends’ house—friends I hadn’t seen in years—and reconnected like only a day or two had passed.
Being in Baltimore was like going home.
Which is weird, really, because it never felt like home when I lived there.