I am a native in this world And think in it as a native thinks
Sunday, April 30, 2017
Saturday, April 29, 2017
Friday, April 28, 2017
Thursday, April 27, 2017
Tuesday, April 25, 2017
Sunday, April 23, 2017
Saturday, April 22, 2017
Signs for science
The signs at the march were wonderful -- some of the ones I couldn't get clear pictures of:
Newton, not Putin
Got Plague? No? Thank a scientist!
Unicorn Frappuccinos are magic. Everything else is science
It was a reminder that there are thousands of smart, funny, passionate people out there, and maybe we're not all doomed.
And even if we are, this is definitely the team I want to be on when we go down fighting.
March for Science
I had to work today, so couldn't march, but when I went out to grab some pizza for lunch I walked over to Broadway to take a look. The info online had said the march would go from 62nd Street down Broadway to 52nd Street, but despite the rainy weather the crowd extended in both directions as far as I could see from 51st Street -- at least 20 blocks long and maybe more.
Thursday, April 20, 2017
Tuesday, April 18, 2017
Monday, April 17, 2017
Sunday, April 16, 2017
Sunday bird blogging

I saw her sitting in a tree a little later, still holding the twig, but unfortunately she was behind the branches and I couldn't get a good picture of her.

Saturday, April 15, 2017
Bonus reflections
This is Via 57, a building by the very interesting Danish architect Bjarke Ingels -- the first project of his I remember hearing about was a clean energy power plant in Copenhagen with a ski slope on the roof.
It's a curving pyramid with an interior plaza, located in the architectural wasteland of the West Side Highway. I took this picture in the winter when the light was already fading, and haven't made it back yet.
Labels:
architecture,
Bjarke Ingels,
black and white,
geometries,
New York,
reflections
Saturday reflections
If that wedge-shaped panel of windows somehow managed to capture a few wandering tourists and a couple of yellow cabs, this would be the perfect New York reflection. But it will do -- I love the contrast between the generic glass tower with the dimly seen offices inside and the reflected brown stone apartments.
Thursday, April 13, 2017
Urban poetry
Since we've just passed the 100th anniversary of the U.S. entry into World War I, here's a tribute to one of the Yanks who went Over There, a statue in Dewitt Clinton Park in Manhattan.
What makes it true urban poetry though is that it gets the poetry part wrong -- the inscription from In Flanders Fields is incorrect. It should be:
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields
That poem is one of the millions of random facts rattling around in my brain, taking up neurons that could be more productively used in remembering which server I saved those files on and what I need to pick up on the way home from work. When I was in sixth grade, we each had to pick a poem to memorize and recite for the class, and my friend Lizanne chose In Flanders Fields. (I recited a ghastly lyric called The Bridge Builder, and didn't realize that I was mispronouncing the word “chasm” until many years later. Just a couple of weeks ago on Big Little Lies, Reese Witherspoon's character corrected her ex-husband for pronouncing it exactly the way I used to. He was an unattractive character in general, but for a minute there he had my complete sympathy.)
Yes, I can still recite The Bridge Builder. And no, I won't.
Tuesday, April 11, 2017
Astronomy Tuesday
It's practically like looking into a mirror: this lovely galaxy, NGC 3370, is similar in size and structure to our own Milky Way.
As always with these magical Hubble images, I am captivated by the dozens of obvious galaxies and intriguing unidentifiables in the background, each one unimaginably huge and complex and so far away we'll probably never know more about it than these few bright pixels.
Then consider that our universe may just be one of many, an infinity of universes full of infinity-plus galaxies and stars and planets. It makes my brain hurt. And wonder why I spent so much time worrying about which bed to buy when there's all this majesty to contemplate.
Of course, now that my brain hurts, it is nice to be able to go and lie down on the new bed which may not mean much on a cosmic scale, but does make this tiny corner of the universe more pleasant to sleep in.
Image Credit: NASA, ESA, Hubble Heritage (STScI/AURA); Acknowledgement: A. Reiss et al. (JHU)
As always with these magical Hubble images, I am captivated by the dozens of obvious galaxies and intriguing unidentifiables in the background, each one unimaginably huge and complex and so far away we'll probably never know more about it than these few bright pixels.
Then consider that our universe may just be one of many, an infinity of universes full of infinity-plus galaxies and stars and planets. It makes my brain hurt. And wonder why I spent so much time worrying about which bed to buy when there's all this majesty to contemplate.
Of course, now that my brain hurts, it is nice to be able to go and lie down on the new bed which may not mean much on a cosmic scale, but does make this tiny corner of the universe more pleasant to sleep in.
Image Credit: NASA, ESA, Hubble Heritage (STScI/AURA); Acknowledgement: A. Reiss et al. (JHU)
Monday, April 10, 2017
Welcome to the working week
A craftsman creating the inlay on a marble table top in Jaipur. The orange color is henna; they paint the marble with it before cutting out the pattern to make it easier to see. Then tiny bits of semiprecious stones are laid into the cut stone and the henna comes off in the final polishing.
I resisted all entreaties to have a lovely table of my very own shipped to me in New York -- I'm trying to have less stuff in my apartment, not more -- but I did break down and buy a tiny marble box with blue lapis elephants on it.
I am a sucker for elephants.
Sunday, April 9, 2017
Sunday bird blogging
The bird is basically unrecognizable in this shot -- if I tell you that it's a jungle babbler from Keoladeo, you're just going to have to take my word for it. The Indians call these birds Seven Sisters, because they hang out in large, noisy groups, but somehow this is the only picture I got that isn't blurry.
And the messiness of the picture very much reflects my life -- or at least, my apartment -- at the moment. After months of dithering and indecision, I finally took the plunge and bought a new bed frame and mattress last week. They were delivered Tuesday, so I took a day off, and spent most of the day hauling pieces of bed frame up the four flights of stairs to my apartment. The mattress was carried upstairs by a kindly (and well-tipped) delivery man, but the bed was deposited in my lobby and I had to deal with it myself. I could barely lift the cartons, much less carry them up stairs, so I unpacked everything in the lobby and carried the bed upstairs in stages -- first the headboard, then one side rail, then the other side rail, and so on. (O Suzo Where Art Thou?) It took me a total of six trips, and muscles I was barely aware that I possessed have been complaining ever since.
Yesterday I took the old bed apart and assembled the new one. The instructions warned that it required two people, but I managed pretty well on my own, though it took me most of the afternoon. The unexpected bit of comedy involved the mattress. This is one of those newfangled memory foam versions that's shipped in a plastic-wrapped coil with all the air squeezed out. When you're ready to install, you lay the coil on the bed, cut the plastic and then unroll the mattress as it starts to inflate.
You can probably guess where this is going. I was carrying some of the metal rods for the bed into the bedroom and must have grazed the plastic on the mattress. I heard a suspicious crinkling sound from the living room and walked back in time to see the mattress burst out of its encasings and start slowly, inexorably, to expand. It was like something from I Love Lucy -- I flung myself on top of the mattress and tried to persuade it to roll up again but found myself a few minutes later sprawled across an entirely inflated mattress which had draped itself across my coffee table and armchair.
Eventually the bed was assembled, the mattress persuaded with some difficulty and a few swear words to move to the bedroom and atop the bed frame, and the wonderful guys from 1-800-GOT-JUNK? have already come and taken away the old bed and mattress along with other miscellaneous clutter for a cost just slightly under what I paid for the new bed frame. (And worth every cent, I should add. This isn't the first time I've used them and they're wonderful. You can get next day appointments, they take away almost anything, and charge only by how much room it takes up in their truck.)
So I've accomplished enough for one weekend, I think. The good news is that I do love the new bed (you can see it here -- I'm too lazy to take pictures.) It's much better for a small bedroom than the wrought iron monstrosity it replaced, and the mattress is so comfortable I may just spend the rest of the day lying on it.
And the messiness of the picture very much reflects my life -- or at least, my apartment -- at the moment. After months of dithering and indecision, I finally took the plunge and bought a new bed frame and mattress last week. They were delivered Tuesday, so I took a day off, and spent most of the day hauling pieces of bed frame up the four flights of stairs to my apartment. The mattress was carried upstairs by a kindly (and well-tipped) delivery man, but the bed was deposited in my lobby and I had to deal with it myself. I could barely lift the cartons, much less carry them up stairs, so I unpacked everything in the lobby and carried the bed upstairs in stages -- first the headboard, then one side rail, then the other side rail, and so on. (O Suzo Where Art Thou?) It took me a total of six trips, and muscles I was barely aware that I possessed have been complaining ever since.
Yesterday I took the old bed apart and assembled the new one. The instructions warned that it required two people, but I managed pretty well on my own, though it took me most of the afternoon. The unexpected bit of comedy involved the mattress. This is one of those newfangled memory foam versions that's shipped in a plastic-wrapped coil with all the air squeezed out. When you're ready to install, you lay the coil on the bed, cut the plastic and then unroll the mattress as it starts to inflate.
You can probably guess where this is going. I was carrying some of the metal rods for the bed into the bedroom and must have grazed the plastic on the mattress. I heard a suspicious crinkling sound from the living room and walked back in time to see the mattress burst out of its encasings and start slowly, inexorably, to expand. It was like something from I Love Lucy -- I flung myself on top of the mattress and tried to persuade it to roll up again but found myself a few minutes later sprawled across an entirely inflated mattress which had draped itself across my coffee table and armchair.
Eventually the bed was assembled, the mattress persuaded with some difficulty and a few swear words to move to the bedroom and atop the bed frame, and the wonderful guys from 1-800-GOT-JUNK? have already come and taken away the old bed and mattress along with other miscellaneous clutter for a cost just slightly under what I paid for the new bed frame. (And worth every cent, I should add. This isn't the first time I've used them and they're wonderful. You can get next day appointments, they take away almost anything, and charge only by how much room it takes up in their truck.)
So I've accomplished enough for one weekend, I think. The good news is that I do love the new bed (you can see it here -- I'm too lazy to take pictures.) It's much better for a small bedroom than the wrought iron monstrosity it replaced, and the mattress is so comfortable I may just spend the rest of the day lying on it.
Saturday, April 8, 2017
Thursday, April 6, 2017
Tuesday, April 4, 2017
Monday, April 3, 2017
Welcome to the working week
I meant to post this picture this morning -- the proprietor at the shop in the Amber Fort in Jaipur hard at work -- but forgot to click on Publish.
Which was lucky because now I get to include this item from today's cafeteria menu at my firm:
Beer, Battered tilapia
Which made me laugh, imagining plates of bruised but brave whitefish accompanied by bracing mugs of beer. Needless to say it was ordinary fried fish, no beer in sight. I had a salad.
Sunday, April 2, 2017
Saturday, April 1, 2017
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