Inside the Little Plastic Castle

Stepped out for a pro-democracy demonstration this noon at our highly photogenic state Capitol square.

( more details )

In particular

Perfect Spring Weather

highs around 70°f/20°c and lows around 55°f/13°c, mostly sunny with flamboyant clouds

Mad Gluten Free Fest

hosted by ALT Brew which makes (you guessed it) GF beer. Found some scones without cream that still tasted great. One vendor claimed bagels, but they were baked not boiled so nevermind. They also sold crypto rye bread. (Caraway seeds helped, but it lacked that nice sour-sweet flavor I remember).

The Blessing of the Bicycles

hosted by Trinity Lutheran Church, aligning with

Madison Bike Week

It’s been an institution for decades. Several mayors have rode in previous years; the current mayor regularly commutes on her bike. In a former life I was a bike mechanic and enthusiastic 3-season cyclist. Now I love the extensive bike infrastructure because the paths are blacktop (asphalt aka bituminous) which means much smoother rolling in my powerchair, at its full speed of 6.5 mph/10+ kph. Even better, the transportation department decrees that the bike routes be cleared to the same schedule as the "salt routes," which are the key roads for getting to school and to work

Best get-out-the-vote metaphor

Thanks, sonia for pointing me:

“Voting isn’t marriage, it’s public transport. You’re not waiting for “the one” who’s absolutely perfect: you’re getting the bus, and if there isn’t one to your destination, you don’t not travel—you take the one going closest.” From Vicky James on Medium

What lovely things happened to you?

1. MyGuy picked up some books at my local branch, where a librarian's T-shirt proclaimed “bookmarks are for quitters“
2. Found a light-hearted, short podcast called "What the Hell is my Job?!". Each episode is two people anonymously describing their job (with lovely sound design, although I could do without the constant music bed). The host is Irish and queer and so far the contributors are all from the UK. There are transcripts on their site under each episode. So far I’ve learned about band managing, freelance percussionists, a Task Rabbit rabbit, and a union dogsbody. They’re soliciting more unusual job-havers: https://whatthehellismyjob.com
3. Learned about What3Words, a global wayfinding app that’s divided the world into 3 metre squares and gave each square a unique combination of three words. It’s the easiest way to find and share exact locations. I appreciate that 3m is close enough to see or hear someone — it’s human scale navigation. I'm delighted they decided to signal a location with three leading back forward slashes, a design that nicely rhymes with three syllables as well as the RL file location. Sadly doesn't (yet) work with Google or Apple Maps, but it is supported by a bunch of navigation apps aimed at blind travelers as well as free Apple and Android apps.
4. Strolling in the dog park yesterday, I encountered ocean waves in Wisconsin at ///riders.loft.scout. The grass is left long by Wingra Creek: in the past three months it’s been hammered by wet snow, internally mauled by -40° temps, and then flattened by breezes. The remnants of last month’s snow are reverse whitecaps on the tattered brown creek side. ( click for pic )

Any joy in your days?

ETA: 19 Feb corrected w3w's indicator.

( so far a mild case, boring details inside )

ETA: I may be negative but my brain is still mushy and correcting for future self -- this all started on Monday, not Saturday

The warnings were dire, but so far we've only had 4-5 inches on the ground. The snow is very heavy and wet and it's barely freezing. That's good news on the street, where it rapidly melts. It's sad news in the backyard, where thick snow brought down three branches on our oldest pine tree, which blocked the street behind our house. Thank heavens for neighbors with chainsaws.

Earlier in the day, MyGuy and Bella went exploring on the bike path. It's a tunnel of white: snow covers the path itself, all the vegetation on the sides, and weighs down the branches of the trees and bushes. Since our black mutt Bella is certain there's something exciting just ahead, her leash is stretching forward into the future.

( click for pic )

Stumbled on a 27-year-old email which reminded me of bipedal joy in winter--walking with two canes.

It's been snowing since the middle of the night, and I'm on the "improving" slope of a remission. A lifetime spent in the northern climes prepares me for the joys of a brief walk in the snow. I swaddle myself warmly and comfortably -- minimum two layers everywhere. Thank heavens for Polartec, the homeopathic weather fighter: fluffy and light.

At 11 am the sky and the ground and the trees and the rooftops are every color white. Getting down my precipitous driveway is scary until I relearn the snow-shuffle, using my canes as balance points. At the street, I feel alarmingly tall -- what a long way to fall. The wind sighs like the seals on a thousand refrigerator doors. Terrorist snow pellets sneak in to sting my face, uncaring, random. When I stop to raise my eyes to the horizon, I travel back to a time without artificial lighting. That mysterious fog has abandoned the 19th century etchings to erect barriers half-a-block away at every point of my compass.

Tinges of snow color every sight, bringing unity and grace to the accidental architecture of suburbia. Visual static spills over into the auditory, the street is calmed to hissing catatonia. Though level ground is almost automatic, every vertical shift requires planning. Is that foot secure? Will that cane slide when I swing through? Ten minutes out, my feet begin to stray. The toes and heel and tender edges no longer recognize the cozy insides of my boots. The braid of ankle and knee and hip and shoulder is fraying: time to return. My bozo legs missed their yard-long orange shoes for the final ascent over the lawn. (They might have provided better traction.)

Inside again, I stomp five times and shed the snow. I've draped my outer layers in the kitchen, which quickly fills with a vapor familiar from tents and apartments and warming shelters and houses. I've time travelled by foot back to steam radiators and glass entryways, steaming subway tunnels and frozen lonely bus stops, the searing desert of forty below and the cheerful mud soup of April.

Installing a new hot air furnace is hazardous to your lungs. It's not just a bad smell. The plastic exhaust piping requires a chemical formally known as "pipe dope" to connect the new box to the existing vent. The furnace itself is coated in anti-corrosive materials that get burned off in the first hours of operation.

This lesson was learned the hard way. Four puffs of ventolin and a true N95 didn't stop the constant cough, so I bundled up and rolled around the block until they finished. Then MyGuy opened windows on all four corners (to a nice sunny winter day: 25°F w 20 mph breeze). I hope the vapors clear out thoroughly by the time I get back from the pool before dinner.

When we woke up yesterday it was chilly. Happily the emergency HVAC folks arrived within 65 minutes, and IDed the issue by smell -- incomplete combustion. The fix is a new furnace, which cost just 10% more than the 20-year-old busted one.

I’m giving myself comment amnesty, because it’s the only way forward.

I enjoyed several pontoon rides towards the end of summer, in my birthday-month.

The locks on the Yahara River which connects Mendota (the big lake we visited in 2020) and Monona are under repair, so the pontoon rides were much smoother.

Photographic proof: Madison's low skyline is dark against the final orange sunset glow, dividing calm gray lake and cloudless blue sky:

( within the cut )

We've had a warm fall so far -- no frost yet! MyGuy and I live on the edge, so we didn't turn on our heat until last night (39°F/4°C). Which led me to wonder about your relationship to heating, ventilation, and air conditioning.

( that's why we have polls! )

Because we have 30 trees in our city lot, we have lots of leaves in our yard. I just admire them, but MyGuy has to rake 'em for the city to compost.

Bella feels a calling to supervise this important work. The pile starts at least 8 ft wide by 20 ft long by 1 ft high. Over the space of an hour, MyGuy packs it into containers. Bella stays put as the pile recedes.

We acknowledge her leadership.

( Three leafy photos with one fixed dog )