Italo

Italo and I went out for a ride tonight with a friend of a friend (who is now ... my friend?). It was such an awesome ride, I'm so happy. And tired. Too tired to write more, but will sleep hard dreaming of the next D.C. ride.

My Saturday of nothing

Okay, the bread recipe was just okay. I mean, it tasted good and all, but it wasn't what I expected. A little dry. Not too much texture. I'm going to try a few things differently next time (probably when I'm back in Denver because now I have so much bread to eat!). Changes include:

Dates instead of raisins.
Whole wheat flour and 7-grain mix instead of white flour.

...

Just got back into D.C. from Baltimore. Baltimore is cool! Why didn't anyone ever tell me that before? It's weird to think how my grandparents grew up there, my mom grew up there for awhile and went to college there. Even with such a strong family connection, I've only been there twice in my life, and both times were this summer.

There's something real about Baltimore. Everyone's got their own style thing going on. People wear what they want to wear, not the style that's shown in the window. I talked for an hour with a Baltimore native on the train from D.C. after I commented on his beautiful flowers. He was bringing them to his fiance. He was a huge black guy, probably about my age, who worked as a policeman and was beyond excited to tell me about how he had proposed to his girlfriend of four years last weekend. I was touched by how much it seemed like he loved her.

In Baltimore, people set up tables and with handmade signs on the steps outside their homes to make a quick buck: "Mini Chicken Box $1.99" or "Ice cold water $2." There are flashing blue lights to indicate bad drug corners and broken bottles on the sidewalks. There are stunning old buildings that have been renovated. There are stunning old buildings that have been left to their demise. I saw a bumper sticker in the window that said, "B-more against war." I loved that. It's a pun-y, bold statement and shows people care. There are farmers markets abound. Some streets sparkle from the broken blue and green glass that has been melted into the pavement and smoothed down over the years. Baltimore's gritty and lots of work needs to be done. But people seem to love the city even more for it. I'm pretty impressed.

I was visiting a friend who, incidentally, was house sitting a beautiful house with a pool and ridiculous kitchen. We hit up Artscape. Artscape is America's largest free arts festival. Lots of crafts, graphic tee-shirts, art, music, bad-for-you-but-tastes-good food. It was really nice vibe there (buena onda, como se dice) but so, so very hot. I bought a pretty mug. It's big, has a nice handle, lots of blues and greens in the glaze and a nice non-smooth texture to the touch. It looks just like the one in the middle of the first picture on the artists' website. I've been looking for a new perfect-coffee-mug for months now, so I hope this one lives up to the potential I saw in it.

I'm pooped. It's not dark yet and it's only 8:00 p.m., but I'm in bed. I plan to do some work on my paper and then crash. Hard.

Small World story

So, there I was this morning on my way to my grandmother's for lunch and an afternoon visit. It was actually raining out this morning, a welcome change from the oppressively hot, humid D.C. weather. I made a quick stop off at the Firehook Bakery because I like to bring little cookie and scone treats for Grandma (she needs fattening up!). Of course I was running a little late, as usual, when I ran down the stopped escalator down to red line at Dupont. I get into the train, which is surprisingly packed for a weekend. I figure I'll try to get a seat somewhere in the middle because I'm going all the way to the last stop and won't need to push through to get off mid-way. I excuse myself to get by the crowd. Well! I see one empty seat - lucky me - and beeline toward it. Next to the empty seat is an attractive, my-age-ish guy who is smiling at me and patting the seat. He looks at me and says, "There's a seat for you right here" ... it was my friend, Max! Max is the high school friend of my dearest college friend. They went to high school together in Israel. He was born in Egypt, lived everywhere, does International Development theater work and last was living in Sudan. I last saw him about a month ago at our mutual dear friend's wedding in Philadelphia. Turns out, he was just here in town for the weekend or something and was going to some theater plays his friends were in. How crazy is that! We happened to be in the same city, going in the same direction, on the same train, in the same car at the same time. Small world. He said he lives "nowhere" now, was just working on a farm in PA for awhile and is possibly heading back to Sudan soon.

On one hand, I felt like, See! I have so many friends here in the city that I "run into" people randomly. Of course, it was especially nice to run into Max. I always have a particular soft spot for Max because he is such a good friend of my dear friend. I also partly have a soft spot for Max because he and I seem to have similar careers and lifestyles. But, on the other hand, somehow there was something about running into Max that made me pensive and feel a bit sad. As if, out of the whole city, the only person I know is a chance encounter with a friend of a friend. Both of us just passing each other by. We have just 3 stops together before one of us is off in another direction again. And, neither of us actually has a permanent life here, or really anywhere. It was all so quick. Pretty much like all of the times I've been around Max, there was not (will there ever be?) enough time to get to talk about the real things in life.

Isn't that weird, though? Running into someone I know made me feel independent in a small world, and yet immensely alone in a large world. Who knows, maybe it was just the dreary Saturday morning rain...