The Death of Imagination

After several grey days of rain, we finally had one that was fair and mild. Not too much of either (as I type this, it is "mostly cloudy", albeit still bright, and 8°C), but enough to convince me to take a walk at lunchtime. I first headed towards the lake, since an acquaintance mentioned that the water seemed high. I thought that that combined with winds from the north would lead to some notable waves but it didn't. Judging from the amount of visible beach, I didn't even think the water was particularly elevated but then I passed by the spillway for the lagoon and noticed almost no difference between the levels in both bodies. (The USACE confirms that Michigan is about 23 cm higher than this time last year.)

As I crossed campus, I was once again struck by our dismal landscaping. With all the rain lately (the storm sewers are so overloaded the city has been asking us to postpone clothes washing), swales, permeable paving, and other means of reducing surface runoff have been on my mind. So as I walked through the recently-landscaped area adjoining the old parking garage, I took note of what opportunities had been missed.

But what also struck me is just how illegible our campus is. I decided to pass to the inside of the new music building in order to stay in the sun and out of the wind before cutting over to the lagoon. Because I know the campus, I know there's a gap between it and the concert hall, but that's not at all obvious when you approach the latter from the south. You do see a bit of road curving to the right, but does it just dead end at a loading dock?

The same mistake was repeated on a smaller scale in the student centre, which I ducked into to warm up after taking some snaps alongside the lagoon. They recently added some snazzy new booths on the edges of the dining area in order to increase seating capacity. Unfortunately, one of the places they've added them is in the approach to exit. Despite the presence of some wide pillars, it was possible to see the stairs to the main entrance from almost anywhere in the room. Now there are several angles from which they're effectively hidden.

I suppose there are two competing approaches to design at play here. One (which is a major component of feng shui) holds that it is more artful to conceal entrances and exits by offsetting them. The other (championed by Jane Jacobs, among others) states that people like clear sightlines, particularly when plotting a route through an urban space. Here we don't follow either consistently. So at the library, for instance, we have a wide main corridor running nearly the length of the structure, but the turnoffs for the elevators and the connecting tunnels to the adjoining building are almost completely hidden.

I guess that's what you get at an institution with a shit-tonne of majors in business and management but no graduate programmes in architecture or design?

I made a dumb mistake with dinner last night and reaped horrible reflux. I didn't buy enough milk for the mushroom cream sauce I decided to make so I tried extending it with some cognac but of course there wasn't time to cook off much of the alcohol. You wouldn't expect that less than a tablespoon hours before bedtime would mess me up, but boy howdy. I had to take Pepto and sleep in and I still feel tired enough I think I'm going to cancel to my plans for tonight. They weren't anything big, just a show at the Neo-Futurarium. Friends and neighbours invited me last night and I hesitated before my "do the thing" mantra kicked in. It would've been fun, but it's an excuse to propose getting together some other time when a bad night won't make as much difference.

Yesterday's "bomb cyclone" was something of a dud. I'd actually picked a lunch spot with the intention of getting "trapped" there during a downpour, someplace relatively quiet where I could moodily stare out of the window. But the window seats were all taken and it was just drizzle so I slunk back here anyways. I compensated by taking a paperback up to the Music Library and finding a cozy window seat where I could read for a bit. I ended up napping as well, so it was all good.

Today is Nuphy's birthday so I tried to give him a call but we were both in transit. He's out at his daughter's house in the burbs for a fancy meal courtesy of his son-in-law. He confessed via text message that when someone asked him recently how I was, he didn't know what to say, since we no longer talk or see each other lately. It bothers me a bit, but I've accepted as part of a more general slowdown in his activity and just been waiting patiently to see if he notices the lack. Apparently that's happened because he suggested we get together soon.

I'm in kind of this weird state nowadays where I simultaneously feel alone and neglected and yet overwhelmed by social opportunities. I've met a lot of new people lately who'd I think I'd like to hang out with but it's been difficult to find times to get together with them (exacerbated in some cases by the fact that they're not planners at all). It's also hard to prioritise, and then my self-doubt kicks in and I wonder if they would really welcome an invitation from me. So I end up doing nothing while wishing I were doing something. Is that where everyone is at these days?

It's full-on spring today (18°C and sunny) and I still haven't seen my elusive daffodil in bloom. We are starting to reach the point where if trees aren't in bud, we worry whether they survived the winter, starting with the smoketree out back. Saturday we broke off twigs to find the green wood and, ironically, the two branches with the most of it are the two I was already planning to trim. So now the question is whether it can be saved at all.

I spent a chunk of time out on the porch with the new neighbours, who were building themselves a new bench that they invited me to sit on and eat my supper. I'd already forgiven myself for failing to get together with the friend who'd asked me to help get him out of the house and for putting off doing the laundry until tonight, so I was able to relax and enjoy myself. They've got energy and plans for the landscaping and I'm realising I need to let go of some of my fear and allow them a fairly free hand.

A few hours earlier, I'd been on the roofdeck of Sidetrack sipping the first g 'n t of the season. It was fun, but also a bit odd; I was basically crashing of reunion of friends from Boston, who had flown out for a mutual acquaintance's birthday. I thought others from the birthday party the night before would be there, too, but there was only one and he was only there by chance, with friends of his own, so I begged off from coming along for dinner.

Which was a shame, because the guy in the group I'd most enjoyed meeting had been occupied all afternoon and only showed up shortly before everyone moved on. His husband, who'd lived in Chicago, and I had bonded somewhat at Touché the night before and I'd hope to spend more time with them. Maybe I'll finally have to make it out to Boston again.

Pasillero cancelled on me again last night so I considered going out somewhere (most likely Noon-o-Kebab) for Nowruz dinner, but ultimately stayed home and made a comfort-food meal of Spätzle mit Linsen instead. Probably just as well; going out would have invited comparisons to dinners at Massouleh and--unless I find a friendly Iranian family to invite me into their homes--it's unlikely I'll another dining experience will live up to that.

Spring is creeping in on tiny crows' feet. Aconite and snowdrops are up but not open. I don't really think of spring blooms as a special interest I shared with Monshu but I'm inevitably reminded that he's not around to see them, which makes delighting in them ultimately melancholy. It also gets me thinking of gardening, which reminds me of the wanton destruction of my plantings over the years, and that also leads to a dark place.

Still, it's nice to have the slush piles gone (though a few traces linger) and temperatures consistently above freezing (if only just). I'm particularly enjoying the longer days, allowing me to leave and come home in sunlight--at least on days which aren't rainy, as yesterday was. And it feels like visiting season is starting up again.

aadroma will be here this weekend, and for once he made the effort to get in touch beforehand so we could make plans to get together. They're still pretty inchoate, but he's staying with a nearby friend so I give better than even odds of at least a restaurant trip. I'm already getting excited about itchwoot's visit in two months and now Ginger Farmboy is talking about a visit in June. (Yeah yeah, I know, but when all's said and done, I do kind of miss the sex.)

This is perhaps the most dilatory spring in recent memory. I did see a forsythia in bloom last week, but it was literally a forsythia, as in one blossom on an entire shrub. The only bush or tree in bloom on my entire route to work is one witch hazel in South Evanston. (The one I planted on the hellstrip--the only one of the 18 saplings I planted two years ago to survive--is still not so much as budding.) We've had snowdrops and squill for a while and even daffodils since last week, but that's where things have stalled.

The snow hasn't helped. I didn't think we'd have any accumulation from Sunday night's storm, but we did end up with a scant inch that was gone by evening in all but the shadiest spots (including the vegetable patches out back). It was surprising enough to have snow on the ground a week earlier, but a colleague did remind me that the winters have been getting pretty steadily milder over the years. An April snow twenty years ago wouldn't have been as much of a marvel.

The cold seems to have pushed poor Fig over the edge. He told me recently that, one way or another, he plans to relocate permanently to NC next year. We see each other little enough as it is (he did make it to the last cocktail night, but with so many sparklies there we hardly chatted) and that would as good as kill the relationship. Or maybe it would be what it takes to convince me to fly out there, I don't know.

Looks like the forecast for tomorrow has been revised to remove any mention of snow. That's a relief even though I didn't expect the brief dip below freezing to do any real damage. On our stroll yesterday evening, my horticulturalist neighbour advised keeping an eye on the natives because, unlike the imported ornamentals, "they're not fooled". I'm not sure if the columbine I have coming up in the hellstrip counts, as I can't remember now if it's the plain red-and-yellow of my youth or one of these fancy new varietals.

Everything seems two or even three weeks ahead of where it would normally be around now. Yesterday brought the first full-sized daffodils in bloom. I've noticed their buds swelling since last week, but I hadn't yet seen any open. Dutch irises are awakening, too, and I'm pleased to see the ones I planted along the alley edge late last fall returning despite the compaction from sloppy drivers over the winter. Elsewhere there are even Virginia bluebells leafing out. Rhododendrons are in bud, forsythia are just starting, and we may have magnolias soon.

I'm still not sure when to expect my saplings, but I suspect it could be as early as next week, so if the weather's at all good this weekend, I'll need to get digging. It would make sense to rebuild the retaining wall at the same time, but I'm also wondering if it doesn't make more sense to dismantle it completely and use those pavers to hold back the weight of soil and mulch from creeping over the narrow walk along the curb. Ah, so much I could accomplish if I only had the physique.

I didn't even have to visit the black piles of snit to know that they aren't there any more. It's plausible a few could've made it through Sunday, but not after two days with a high temperature of 17°C. At lunchtime it threatened rain so I eat indoors, but it was clear again by evening so I took my first constitutional in weeks.

There still isn't too much popping up yet, just a few daffodils (which were burned badly in the last false spring) and some early tulips and irises. I saw a couple aconite near work, but they're not out in their profusion yet, and not squill at all. Buds are swelling on the trees, though, particularly the rhodie in the backyard.

I think I might need to set some time aside this weekend to prepare the ground on the hellstrip because I can't recall when my trees are arriving. I think I ordered them for the first week of April, but there's not actually anything in my receipt which tells me. I've got plenty of fallen wood for the nurse log and it would probably be a good idea to empty out the composter by at least half given that it's been filled to the rim all winter.

I hope I didn't overdo it with the gardening today. I really did very little, but I still have to roll out a pie crust and then make a load of cocktails, both of which are hard on my back and the cumulative effect could be beyond the power of bourbon to overcome. But I couldn't let this good weather go to waste. It's easily the most glorious weekend of the year so far, whereas Monday is predicted to be stormy, so I very much wanted to get some things in the ground, like the hydrangeas. Well, one is, and the geraniums are in the planters out front (though I may have inadvertently slain one by lopping off too much of the root ball).

And more is coming up than I suspected earlier in the spring. Winter didn't kill the knotweed; it was just screened by all the damn daylilies. And the mayapple I'd given up for dead is back, though struggling. One of the epidimediums may have pulled through as well; something is coming up near the spot where I planted it, and it doesn't look like a weed. But the biggest success are the tulips. monshu bought one pot last year which I divided promiscuously. Now we have two clumps in full bloom. From such small beginnings...

The liturgical and meteorological calendars were in synch this weekend. Sometime between Good Friday and Easter Sunday, the last of the snow abortions vanished from our street and the first daffodils appeared. Elsewhere I saw a forsythia in bloom, but otherwise the trees and shrubs have been holding back. Sunday was a glorious day to be out, which is fortunate because I ended up walking all the way to Andersonville and halfway back.

monshu felt up to the challenge of catering his first dinner of the year, so we asked Nuphy and Diego to share our largesse. Sadly, Diego and Uncle Betty have split, so he brought along a mutual friend for murky reasons of "concern". The latter said little, but he was in a room of big talkers, most of which weren't particularly sober, so that was no surprise.

We had lamb, of course, and lots of it since the Old Man prepared two racks of chops just in case. Also cheesy polenta and some homebaked bread which came from the widower of monshu's former neighbour across the hall. Scooter had suggested we pull out the ice cream from his freezer for dessert, but the GWO had already prepared panna cotta and asked Diego to bring fruit to top it with.

After two late nights, I was dreadfully tired but fought it all the way. Nuphy wanted to hit the road early in any case, since it was the season opener for the Cubs and he wanted to be safely out of the North Side before the game ended. By happy coincidence, they were playing the Cardinals, so once everyone had gone, I slipped downstairs and caught the last seven innings. For a good 15 hours, my hometown heroes had more wins than all other teams combined. Now they simply share the top spot with two other teams.

I've been making a conscious effort to ease off and stop being such a control freak about monshu's health care, but every now and again something happens to remind me why I started doing this in the first place. On Friday, the tube for his JP drain fell out. Two or three weeks ago, I would've freaked out. I started to, in fact, when my mother texted me to let me know and asked what she should do. Then I remembered that there was a very responsive surgeon on call, as well as a couple of highly competent after-hours home health nurses, and I began to relax again. By the time I got home, I questioned why I'd been brought in initially at all, since my mother handled everything the way I would have but better. (She was able to have a technical conversation with the nurse about what she needed to bring to patch him up in the meantime.)

However, either she misunderstood what the surgeon told her or she miscommunicated it to us, because the Old Man and I were under the impression we had to call the surgical practice first thing this morning to see about scheduling an emergency replacement. But when we finally got through (they were having phone trouble) and got a message to the on-call surgeon, she called back saying there was no need to replace the drain unless he showed symptoms of ascites. I was like, "What would those be, distension and abdominal discomfort?" and she said, "You got it!" This was at about 10:30, so I was more than two hours late for no reason at all. (Which--I must remember--is still preferable in this case to being late for a good reason.)

But it wasn't all bad, since I was still awful groggy from DST, so I figured if I'm going to be late, why not be really late and get some more shuteye. So I went back to bed with the cat for about an hour before heading into work. The melting season is upon us and I was navigating around puddles the entire way. It's fairly horrifying to see what percentage of the dirty ice along the thoroughfares is composed of particulate matter and extrapolate from that what three months of Chicago's atmosphere must do to your lungs. But it's fun to take bets on which will be last snowpile standing.