Blissful Unemployment, Day 7: Yay Airports! Part the First

A period of unemployment, however blissful, raises an important question: when will it end? Rather than put it off too long, i decided to go to California to investigate the Silicon Valley outfit that several former colleagues have signed onto.

Forty hours on the ground makes the two transcontinental flights seem even longer. (I'm sure my friend Phil has flown longer for shorter stays, though.)

Anyway, i came back with the feeling that this gig will work for me.

Blissful Unemployment, Day 6: Serrated

On Thursday the 6th i finally went to see the Richard Serra show at MoMA, first thing in the morning. Early on a weekday morning is the ideal time to visit the museum, which is great if you're unemployed. (Though not if you're broke -- $20, ouch!)

The focus of the show of course is the main gallery of gigantic steel sculptures, which are amazing. I'd seen several of Serra's sculptures in this vein at Dia Beacon and Gagosian, but it's always a pleasure to see them again and again -- especially in a museum setting, where even the teenagers who normally wear "i could do that" sneers are enthralled.

For me (and, i assume, for most of us) the materials and curves evoke naval vessels -- but i feel like these pieces can be appreciated and enjoyed by anyone, anywhere, without requiring any awareness of the history or vocabulary of contemporary art. Some of the spaces created by the works feel like temples or grottoes of steel rust.

Another gallery held a retrospective of the massive (but smaller-scale) sculptures Serra created throughout his career, largely made of big lead plates. I hadn't seen any of these in person before, but i was less enamored of them -- probably one should start here and move on to the ginormous steel pieces after.

The one piece in this section that completely blew me away was the 1967 "To Lift". I kept coming back to it on several passes through the gallery, and each time it almost made me laugh out loud at how much it packs into the pure simplicity of its presence. It really is the immediate physical evidence of a single bodily action of the artist, a raw artifact that is its own description, an object that is exactly how-it-was-made and nothing else. It melds the aesthetics of both mathematical curves and the human body and its scale in a way that i, at least, have never noticed before. It must have been an awesome thing to see in '67.

Unemployed on Labor Day

Friday, the 31st of August was my last day at the old job. This had been in the cards for a while, though without meaning to i managed to celebrate Labor Dabor by being newly unemployed. It's been a while since i've been without a job, so i couldn't pass up the opportunity to kick back and do a whole lot of nothing for a few weeks.

I headed up to the Boston area at the end of August to wrap up the job thing. Spent a couple nights with friends Fargo and Caroline, which was a pleasure as always. Also found the time to spend a night out with Fargo and our old pal Matt, which doesn't happen often enough any more. Had some drinks with my old office-mates, said my good-byes, and closed that chapter.

By sheer coincidence (seems to be happening a lot this year), My Better Half had reason to be in the Boston area for her job. This segued nicely into a Labor Day plan, which was mainly hanging out with friends Geech and Maggie and their two chilluns. The six of us headed over to friends Bill Mr. Swanky and Robin's awesome house for a cookout with them and their son. A good time was had by all.

Of course, no visit to the Boston area is complete without meeting up with lots of old friends, so we saw as many folks as we could without turning the weekend into a stress-fest. And, we ate at the Watertown Diner not once, but twice. Mmmmmmmm.

Playing Catch-Up

Yeah so anyway, i haven't blogged in a while, obviously. I'm'a try to catch up over the next few days.

Pittsburgh is a Nice Town, After All

My Better Half and i visited Pittsburgh for the first time (for either of us) last weekend.

Someone once described Pittsburgh to me as the Iceland to Philadelphia's Greenland: in our national mythology, Philly is the beatiful "City of Brotherly Love", one of the templates by which all modern American cities are to be judged, while Pittsburgh is the grimy industrial center whose steady decline tracks our economy's shift away from manufacturing. The aforementioned Someone indicated that in reality Pittsburgh was the nice town, Philly the dump.

As i can now say with the authority that comes with fantastically limited experience, Someone was at least partly right. Philadelphia's got a lot going for it, but Pittsburgh has a nicer feel. Of course, my opinion of both cities is colored by the places i've visited and the people who have shown me around, but i'll be darned if i'm going to back down from a first impression.
My opinion of Pittsburgh also is colored by its many yellow-painted bridges. Yellow is a good color for bridges. It's also nice to have a city with accessible views of itself: the hills around town provide for a lot of beautiful vistas.

Our raison d'visit was MBH's college friend Laurie, who not too long ago bought a house with her boyfriend Jeff. More of MBH's college friends (Dorilona, Michael, Ann) came in from the Philadelphia and Boston areas, as well, so it was kind of a housewarming sleepover weekend. Highlights were a trip to "The Warhol" and brunch at Zenith, a junkshop and vegetarian & vegan restaurant, which satisfied even the omnivores in our party.

One section of Pittsburgh is called the Mexican War Streets, for reasons that were explained to me but which i never quite understood. Anyways, in that neighborhood of nice brick row houses and community gardens, we came across a nifty peephole/door-knocker combination that MBH insisted be photographed:

On our way back to Beautiful Brooklyn, Pittsburgh gave us one last wink -- a Calder mobile in the airport titled, appropriately enough, "Pittsburgh".

Jumpin' Jiminy

This last weekend My Better Half and i joined friends Jess and Mike and Keren and Adam for a couple of nights at Jiminy Peak in the Berkshires. We rented a little condo in the ski-resort and visited a few of the small towns in the area.

Our main activities took place on Saturday. First thing after breakfast we hiked part of Mount Grayskull, which was a very nice time. I hadn't paid attention to the tabloid comings and goings of He-Man and Skeletor since... well, ever, so i was somewhat surprised to learn they've been married for more than a year now. (Go, Massachusetts!) Apparently the sturm and drang orchestrated by their publicists evolved into a real, caring relationship they finally had to acknowledge, rom-com style. They're running a cute little B&B out of what remains of the Castle, along with a lively weekend brunch scene; we'd already eaten so we just had some cappuccinos and shared a few scones, which were delicious.

At lunchtime, MBH held true to her sworn oath to eat only fish and chips for the rest of her natural life -- a promise she was later to break, with tragic consequences.

Mini Golf reared its ugly head and was defeated by six knights-errant, wielding putters forged in the fires of distant China, who obediently split into two groups of three when instructed by the Mistress of the Course.

The cornerstone of our weekend was a visit to Tanglewood, where we enjoyed a picnic on the lawn while Yo-Yo Ma played along with some Dvořák. The weather was perfect -- it was like being in an ad for the BSO.

Now, orchestral music isn't really my cup of tea, so i daydreamed a bit. I created an impressively elaborate railroad museum in my imagination, then visited it with Tom Waits and a drunken James Woods. Tom made up amusing, ridiculous stories about the origin and purpose of various railroady equipment; James was a nuisance.

That didn't exhaust the allotted time, so i tried to remember the word lagomorph, a task at which i eventually succeeded.

There still was music playing, so i pretended we were on the Isle of Wight, about which i know pretty much nothing, which gave me carte blanche. As it turns out, there are cotton-candy trees on the Isle, which delighted MBH; i myself was smitten by the gin fountains. The Isle of Wight has neither humid days nor Republicans, and there are no mosquitoes. MBH and i invested in a time share on the southern shore.

Oregon

My Better Half and i went to Oregon last month for more than a week.

One reason for our trip was to celebrate a wedding: MBH's college friend Hillary married a swell guy named Jim in Eugene. MBH left Brooklyn a few days before me to help with wedding prep and participate in some bachelorette fun. When i got to PDX, i was met by my mom, who had relocated from Brooklyn to Portland just days before. We hopped in her new car and motored down to Eugene...

The wedding was very nice -- outdoors (my favorite), next to the Willamette River, in Jasper state park. An osprey circled overhead while the celebrant married Hillary and Jim in front of a stately bamboo arch. (MBH and i had cut down the bamboo that morning, though we did not get a chance to flex our arch-making skillz.)

The reception was held in the back yard of Hillary's folks' house, which had been transformed by judicious application of the many-hands/light-work principle into an outdoor function space par excellence. There was much partying. For a while i sat listening to a young, weirdly exuberant right-winger spew horse droppings from his mouth; then i went back to partying.
MBH and i spent part of the next day with my mom, aunt Judy and uncle Fred (Mom's brother), cousin Greg and his wife Tris and daughter Semilla, and cousin Lisa and her husband Glen and son Aidan. Other than seeing Fred and Judy a few days before, i hadn't seen any of these people for, i think, two decades (or ever). Unfortunately, it was the day after the wedding reception, and neither MBH nor i were playing our A-game. We should have many opportunities in the future to correct (or confirm) that we are the zombie arm of the family, though.

From Eugene we two headed to Cannon Beach for a few days of sea-side vacation. The Oregon coastal destination towns (at least from what i've seen) are a lot like the towns along Cape Cod and the islands, only less irritating.







We took a little hike in Ecola State Park to Crescent Beach, but didn't make it all the way -- MBH wanted to get back to Haystack Rock at low tide to see all the squirmy sea creatures. For whatever reason, low tide didn't seem low enough that day. (Or, we were misinformed when low tide actually occurred...) Ecola is pretty nice considering it's only one letter away from both ebola and e. coli.

The remainder of our vacation was spent in Portland, hanging out again with my mom (why is she everwhere i'm going?) and with some of MBH's family: Portlanders Anne Marie (aunt), Todd (cousin), Amanda (cousin), Amanda (wife of cousin Todd); Kentuckians Leyda (aunt), Monica (cousin), Jesse (husband of cousin Monica), Cameron (son of cousin Monica), Liset (cousin); and Brian (cousin, formerly of Kentucky, currently of Portland). Todd and Amanda had everyone over for a backyard cookout the evening MBH and i were leaving town, so we got to eat well and even got in a few licks of Guitar Hero before heading to the airport to catch the red-eye back to hot, humid beautiful Brooklyn.

MBH spent her childhood in Portland and always has wanted to move back there, and this trip only added fuel to the fire. So it looks like a coast transplant is in store for us, some time in the next few years. At least i'll still be able to complain about hipsters. (And no, when the time comes i will not be poking out my eyes or killing my wife. I would consider burning down my home, but it's made of stone.)

I lost my camera at some point, so i don't have any pictures of Portland. But then i found it again.

Niagara

A couple weeks ago My Better Half and i spent a couple nights at Niagara Falls along with most of her immediate family and my mom. The falls are an amazing sight.
And there are rainbows pretty much all the time.

Paris

A couple weeks ago My Better Half and i went to Paris for a long weekend. MBH's boss hooked us up with his parents, Jacques and Liliane, who very graciously showed us some of Paris's sights and culinary delights.

Almost immediately we discovered where the French pirates hang out -- the Rue St. Placide, in the 6th ARRRondissement:
We didn't hit the Louvre, but we did get to the Centre Georges Pompidou for a couple hours (not nearly long enough). I spent a while in the room dedicated to Joan Miró and one of my favorite artists, Alexander Calder.Not only did we visit the Pompidou, we ate there too -- with Jacques and Liliane at Georges, featuring dramatic views of Paris and delicious food.

While in Paris, we of course had to hit some standard destinations, such as Notre Dame,
the Grand Palais with its striking glass ceiling,and Montmartre (where someone had recently splashed red paint on the basilica).

Now, you may not be aware of this, but no trip to Paris is complete without a visit to the Place Fernand Mourlot (dedicated to the master lithographer, Jacques's father, Eric's grandfather).

After the Place Mourlot we had some time to kill, so we decided we could fit in a visit to the Eiffel Tower. From the postcard photographs i had seen, i was expecting it to have something of an ephemeral feel to it, but its massive presence is actually quite impressive up close.And, it sparkles at night!

Beer Butt Chicken

Until our recent trip to Montana i had heard people rave about "beer butt chicken" (also called "beer bottom chicken" by the too-polite), but had not experienced it for myself. When we got to Havre, my dad let on that he had purchased a Contraption specifically designed to prepare the delicacy -- a metal stand, basically, to hold two beer cans inside two chickens. The Contraption addresses the only difficulty i can imagine in beer-butt chicken preparation, namely, keeping the chicken from falling over on the grill.

While i was lax in my responsibilities during the Havre Underground tour, i did document the more important occasion -- the Contraption's maiden voyage.

The verdict: delicious.

Havre

After our hike back from Avalanche Lake, My Better Half and i drove east (through a late-May snow storm) from the mountains down to the plains to spend a few days in Havre, where my father and grandfather live. My sister also drove west from Fargo (and brought along more eyeballs!), so it was a little family get-together.
For as long as i can remember my dad has painted and sculpted, and there are a lot of his pieces in the house and yard. Keith has become a fan of my dad's work, specifically small sculptures he's been making recently from Russian Olive wood; we brought some pieces back for him.
While in Havre we took an excursion (in Dad and Grandpa's fancy new pickup truck) down to the Bearpaw Mountains south of town. Grandpa used to have a cabin down there, and related a lot of fond memories during our trip.
The most interesting (to me) attraction in Havre -- besides family -- is the "Havre Underground", which i only became aware of a couple years ago. In the winter of 1904 a fire destroyed a large portion of downtown Havre; the locals responded by moving their businesses into the basements, connecting them with tunnels, and living partially "beneath the streets" until they could rebuild. MBH and i took my sister on the tour (it's the second time for the two of us), which is a fun mixture of random old-timey whatnot and local history. (I didn't get any photos, sorry.)

Glacier National Park

Last week, My Better Half and i spent some time in Montana. Our first two nights were in Whitefish, just west of Glacier National Park. If you haven't visited Glacier, you should: i consider it a strong candidate for Most Beautiful Place In The World. But then, i'm partial to the Rockies, and haven't yet seen Kashmir.

On our first full day, we slept late and puttered around Whitefish long enough that we only had time for a short walk near Lake McDonald in the late afternoon. It's a nice lake, but more of a lazing-away-summer-vacation-with-the-family kind of place than a holy-crap-these-mountains-are-amazing kind of place.

The next morning we went on a proper (though still not very difficult) five-mile hike starting through the Trail of the Cedars and then along Avalanche Creek to Avalanche Lake, which is somewhat more dramatic.

We also saw a couple deer on the trail, who took virtually no notice of us.