To help you and I remember them, here are my goals:
1. Complete new, original research.
2. Write a book proposal.
3. Renew my interest and excitement in teaching and learning.
But at the moment, there is a glassblowing studio down the street that offers CLASSES! Must focus! Wait, a class in glassblowing would help with #3. Hmmmm.
Enough! To help direct my energies, I have set about to secure the necessary components of city life. In the last two hours, I have located:
1. A really good Thai restaurant.
2. A grocery store that sells "food". More on the quotes in a later post.
3. Very hoppy beer. It is the Northwest, after all.
4. Coffee.
Tomorrow morning, I plan on waking early (at 6:05, pony feeding time) to explore the neighborhood before making my way to UW for my first of many scientific meetings. I plan to walk the 3.8 miles, weather permitting. I need to do something to make up for the lack of stall mucking and other farm chores I usually do.
This is the strangest transition I've experienced. This morning, Stacy and I were drinking tea while our four horses basked in the sun, our two dogs wrestled in the grass, our ten chickens rooted for insects, and our 12 baby chicks waited to go outside. Now, a mere 12 hours later, I am listening a one poor, barking dog that has been left in the apartment all day, and I am completely alone. No dogs to feed, no ponies to ride, no eggs to collect, no partner to share it with.
There was a time when I really thought city life was for me, but now I am not sure how people can stand it. Seattle is a good place, far better than most, where people have gardens and go to great lengths to keep their dogs and cats in the city. But what will I do in the morning? Maybe I can get a part time job throwing fish in the market. That is almost like having a farm, right?
This makes me think of S's peeps in Pasadena, who can raise enough food for 4+ people on a 10th of an acre. Or the fact that the people of Taiwan grow a large fraction of their own produce, in the city. Right now, there is an empty pot of the veranda of my apartment. It begs to be filled with something living. Maybe I'll buy some herbs to grow in it for the month I am here.
This is the strangest transition I've experienced. This morning, Stacy and I were drinking tea while our four horses basked in the sun, our two dogs wrestled in the grass, our ten chickens rooted for insects, and our 12 baby chicks waited to go outside. Now, a mere 12 hours later, I am listening a one poor, barking dog that has been left in the apartment all day, and I am completely alone. No dogs to feed, no ponies to ride, no eggs to collect, no partner to share it with.
There was a time when I really thought city life was for me, but now I am not sure how people can stand it. Seattle is a good place, far better than most, where people have gardens and go to great lengths to keep their dogs and cats in the city. But what will I do in the morning? Maybe I can get a part time job throwing fish in the market. That is almost like having a farm, right?
This makes me think of S's peeps in Pasadena, who can raise enough food for 4+ people on a 10th of an acre. Or the fact that the people of Taiwan grow a large fraction of their own produce, in the city. Right now, there is an empty pot of the veranda of my apartment. It begs to be filled with something living. Maybe I'll buy some herbs to grow in it for the month I am here.
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