Sky2Five

Missing eating jamon and cheese and walking along the harbor of Barcelona

Mother in law has left the city. I feel like Santa looks here.  I think I’m more of a winter solstice celebrator. You know this war on christmas crap… how come the religious right just doesn’t go for broke and insist that everyone goes around saying happy Jesus’ birthday? Anyway, had a very nice and secular X-mas day in Philly. So, I say to everyone good tidings for the new year and hope no one owns stock.

No, not Fort McHenry, but the cozy rowhouse we rent in Charm (or Harm) city. It is in a little oasis called Oakenshawe, which we were happy to find after first looking in a variety of unpleasant neighborhoods. Where we live, you go two streets over and you may easily find trouble, go in the other direction and you have mansions with private security patrols. All and all we like it. The dogs miss having a big back yard, but they get plenty of long walks thru posh Guilford. Oh anyone selling a shotgun at discount???

Haymarket Square was once a real lively place to get cheap produce and fish. It was a hub of noise, activity and particularly smells. Go at the end of the day, and the vendors would give you bags of there wares for next to nothing, cause they didn’t want to pack it up or throw it away. The Big Dig changed that dynamic, for better and maybe a little worse. It is certainly nice not having the Expressway towering above and limiting access to the North End. Yet I’m not sure they have done enough to maintain an authenticity. It’s always something for something.

At least there is still a semblance of the past… When I was a kid, my brother Jimmy worked at the Forecaster coat factory near the Haymarket. Many times we’d be in that area to see him, or for some other reason. My favorite part of these excursions was this little whole in the wall pizza stand. It’s still there and pretty modest, but back in the day it was so bare bones that there would be a guy who asked how many slices, then placed your order on an upturned packing crate. The slices are still good, cheaper than the soda – but not as good as the memories.

Best part of summer time is BBQ. My father-in-law has this gem up at his cottage, and I made the most of it. Cooking is an intuitive art. It is like “The Force” – one must have that inner sense when the food is done. The same goes with shooting a transparency on an exposure unit. Except you can’t redo a hamburger.

While I was back in Massachusetts for my Brother-in-Law’s wedding, the Celtics one there first championship in 22 years! Back in the mid-80’s my buddy Hervé and I were a part of a group of guys that would spend Friday nights at the YMCA playing other pick-up teams. I clearly remember watching the Laker-Celtic series and recall how jaded we were about them. It was fantastic basketball and awesome when they won, but if they lost it was a given that they would be back in the finals the next year. For Boston teenagers back then, it was taken for granted. Well the glory of the Celts was even sweeter after all these years. Its happening at the New Garden, made it a sort of homecoming.

Doug and Claire get married in two weeks. As shown here, they have had some experience performing under pressure.

The sky is the limit, so they say, but first you need to get outside… of yourself.

How deep can one dive into the sea of limbo? We are waiting to hear about a fantastic apartment in Baltimore. So we wait over this quiet weekend for the landlord to return from his vacation and for word that may help us visualize what awaits us at the end of this transitional funnel. Then we can shoot the piers.

Okay it was more like an advocacy for spinach powered cars. This shot was taken on Wickenden Street in Providence, when we stopped for some java at the Coffee Exchange for our long ride home from Massachusetts a few weeks ago. Shouldn’t these ladies be more worried about the rising price of corn due to ethanol? How about promoting roughage and wind power??? Well with $4 a gallon around the corner, we all have some cud to chew on.