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Feb. 9th, 2008
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It has been a busy day.
First, I rode my bicycle to the farmer's market, which was satisfying as usual in a way that buying and eating other food fails to satisfy because I'm getting to know the people who provide it. After that, I stopped by Lux for a short while for some espresso and such. I did my part to play the role of moody coffeeshop denizen by sipping my latte and furiously writing in a Moleskine notebook (my journal). I was wearing skinny hipster jeans and a KEXP tee-shirt, just to be sure to fit the stereotype (though my bicycle is still decidedly un-fixie and I like it that way). 'twas necessary; distractions keep me from writing at home (and here by writing I mean physically writing with a pen applied to paper; typing doesn't count).
For the ride home, I decided the usual route wasn't exciting enough (Grand Canal to Oak Street/etc.), so I decided to follow the Grand Canal a bit further (theoretically, it connects all the way back to Tempe; the actuality is a bit different). The change of route was refreshing, especially since the canal is full of chocolatey-brown water instead of being emptied down to green slime as it was the last time I passed by. The number of upturned shopping carts is no different, however, which leads me to wonder if shopping cart manufacturers take this unfortunate fate into consideration when choosing materials for cart manufacture. Probably not.
Eventually, the pavement alongside the Grand Canal ran out, and at Washington Street things started to look annoyingly tricky, so I switched back to conventionally navigated roads. Altogether, I managed to break only four of the dozen eggs I purchased at the farmer's market, so I figure things turned out all right. I also stopped by the west dams on Tempe Town Lake to observe the water pouring down from all four spillways. It stirs up some unidentifiable emotion in me to watch that water.
Then I spent a substantial part of the middle of the day working on chores around the house, in preparation for my party next weekend, because I won't have time to do much right before the party (I'll be at a rowing clinic). Among my projects was the delightful task of figuring out how to clean out my bathroom sink trap. I've never had to clean out a sink trap before, but believe me when I tell you that it was clear that it was time to learn. A small angel with a pipe wrench descended from heaven and commanded it. On a trip home a while ago, my father patiently requested (but with a hint of exasperation in his voice) that my long-haired sister and I try to avoid sending our hairs down the sink drain, and that and other evidence had suggested to me that the sink-trap cleaning ranks among the more unpleasant chores (cleaning out gutters seems to rate pretty high on that list, too, which I'm not sure I entirely understand, but perhaps that's because I don't have many gutters to keep clean and my gutters are close to the ground).
So I steeled myself, and did a quick search on Teh Google, thus figuring out that I was indeed yoinking on the things in need of yoinking and learning a bit more about how plumbing systems work (especially the drainage half of plumbing systems--quite fascinating, actually). The smell that emanated from underneath the sink made me quite glad for the existence of drain traps (they exist to trap sewage gas from sneaking into your house), even as I tried to avoid breathing and removed some of the most disgusting slimy and hairy business I've ever seen in my life. Mmm. Yeah. I'll spare you the rest of the details, and will just say that I believe I've managed to put the thing back together without mishap as well. Plumbing project number one, complete. *gives self promotion*
So that was interesting--probably more so than the various other cleanings I accomplished, and definitely more interesting than the shopping errands (I find plasticware depressing, in fact).
Then came dinner. I should back up and mention that some of my grad student friends have been hosting a symposium on the theme of Iridescence. They spent the past three and a half days on talks and workshops about the science of iridescence, from physics through evolutionary biology. Dinner was the culminating event, and included not only some delicious eggplant parmesan (and usually I don't care for the stuff), but also a fashion show and an art lecture.
I was looking forward to the fashion show, but I have to tell you that even given my magnanimous mood boy howdy was I amazed and impressed with what the fashionistas and models were able to accomplish. If I'd had any doubts about cross-talk between science and art, the show would have dispelled them instantaneously. To say the least, there was some gorgeous work. Most of all, though, I'm grateful to see that such interdisciplinary collaborations can happen, and can happen so successfully. And I'm grateful to have a chance to learn more about fashion and appreciate how it manifests skills and ideals.
And that is all.
First, I rode my bicycle to the farmer's market, which was satisfying as usual in a way that buying and eating other food fails to satisfy because I'm getting to know the people who provide it. After that, I stopped by Lux for a short while for some espresso and such. I did my part to play the role of moody coffeeshop denizen by sipping my latte and furiously writing in a Moleskine notebook (my journal). I was wearing skinny hipster jeans and a KEXP tee-shirt, just to be sure to fit the stereotype (though my bicycle is still decidedly un-fixie and I like it that way). 'twas necessary; distractions keep me from writing at home (and here by writing I mean physically writing with a pen applied to paper; typing doesn't count).
For the ride home, I decided the usual route wasn't exciting enough (Grand Canal to Oak Street/etc.), so I decided to follow the Grand Canal a bit further (theoretically, it connects all the way back to Tempe; the actuality is a bit different). The change of route was refreshing, especially since the canal is full of chocolatey-brown water instead of being emptied down to green slime as it was the last time I passed by. The number of upturned shopping carts is no different, however, which leads me to wonder if shopping cart manufacturers take this unfortunate fate into consideration when choosing materials for cart manufacture. Probably not.
Eventually, the pavement alongside the Grand Canal ran out, and at Washington Street things started to look annoyingly tricky, so I switched back to conventionally navigated roads. Altogether, I managed to break only four of the dozen eggs I purchased at the farmer's market, so I figure things turned out all right. I also stopped by the west dams on Tempe Town Lake to observe the water pouring down from all four spillways. It stirs up some unidentifiable emotion in me to watch that water.
Then I spent a substantial part of the middle of the day working on chores around the house, in preparation for my party next weekend, because I won't have time to do much right before the party (I'll be at a rowing clinic). Among my projects was the delightful task of figuring out how to clean out my bathroom sink trap. I've never had to clean out a sink trap before, but believe me when I tell you that it was clear that it was time to learn. A small angel with a pipe wrench descended from heaven and commanded it. On a trip home a while ago, my father patiently requested (but with a hint of exasperation in his voice) that my long-haired sister and I try to avoid sending our hairs down the sink drain, and that and other evidence had suggested to me that the sink-trap cleaning ranks among the more unpleasant chores (cleaning out gutters seems to rate pretty high on that list, too, which I'm not sure I entirely understand, but perhaps that's because I don't have many gutters to keep clean and my gutters are close to the ground).
So I steeled myself, and did a quick search on Teh Google, thus figuring out that I was indeed yoinking on the things in need of yoinking and learning a bit more about how plumbing systems work (especially the drainage half of plumbing systems--quite fascinating, actually). The smell that emanated from underneath the sink made me quite glad for the existence of drain traps (they exist to trap sewage gas from sneaking into your house), even as I tried to avoid breathing and removed some of the most disgusting slimy and hairy business I've ever seen in my life. Mmm. Yeah. I'll spare you the rest of the details, and will just say that I believe I've managed to put the thing back together without mishap as well. Plumbing project number one, complete. *gives self promotion*
So that was interesting--probably more so than the various other cleanings I accomplished, and definitely more interesting than the shopping errands (I find plasticware depressing, in fact).
Then came dinner. I should back up and mention that some of my grad student friends have been hosting a symposium on the theme of Iridescence. They spent the past three and a half days on talks and workshops about the science of iridescence, from physics through evolutionary biology. Dinner was the culminating event, and included not only some delicious eggplant parmesan (and usually I don't care for the stuff), but also a fashion show and an art lecture.
I was looking forward to the fashion show, but I have to tell you that even given my magnanimous mood boy howdy was I amazed and impressed with what the fashionistas and models were able to accomplish. If I'd had any doubts about cross-talk between science and art, the show would have dispelled them instantaneously. To say the least, there was some gorgeous work. Most of all, though, I'm grateful to see that such interdisciplinary collaborations can happen, and can happen so successfully. And I'm grateful to have a chance to learn more about fashion and appreciate how it manifests skills and ideals.
And that is all.