Small Town Wren

The Henri Cartier-Bresson exhibit at the Art Institute of Chicago opened to the public today. As a member, I got to see it yesterday, and boy am I glad I made it out. It’s phenomenal! Daniil and I made a day of it, and I’m really glad he insisted we see it first since the line wrapped around the special exhibit balcony by the time we left.

The photograph above, labeled as Hyères, France, 1932, was one of our favorites from the collection. I’d seen several of his photos before as a number of them belong to MoMA and The Met in New York City, including this one. But it really caught Daniil’s eye as well. As I would discover over the course of the afternoon, he is really intrigued by the use of lines in art. I, however, am more about motion and what’s not in the frame. We spent the afternoon guessing how each other felt about each photo.

The portion of portraits was one of my favorite parts of the exhibit. It makes me jealous because of all the cool people I will never know that he captured. Such as Truman Capote.

And Albert Camus.

And Ezra Pound.

Cartier-Bresson is one of my favorite photographers, and he shot almost exclusively in black & white. An admirable commitment for a modern man such as himself.

I highly recommend it. The man travelled far and wide as a photojournalist. I was lucky to have a native Russian give his own opinions on the Soviet Union portion. The photographs from newly Communist China are also breathtaking. If you can make it, go.

Saturday night was the Chicago L.A.T.E. Ride, which I am happy to report I biked in its entirety. 25 miles isn’t a long ride, but it’s now the longest I’ve done in a single day. My previous record was only 15. There were a few moments where it felt like I wasn’t going to make it, I did so with flying colors and only a few injuries, and only having birds shit upon me twice. Yeah, whut? I’m not sure why I was the particular moving target for all the birds, but I ended up with scat on me from all directions. Ugh.

I went with quite a few friends. We ended up all feasting on Silk afterward, a product endorsed enthusiastically by Howard and me. And the sunrise was absolutely gorgeous, if not a bit skewed by clouds. I’m glad that only Daniil saw me have the mos disgraceful dismount from a bicycle ever. I banged up my leg pretty well on my pedal. But hey, my bike is a beast. It’s apparently the heaviest bike ever and gets more momentum than anything on hills.

The eggs benedict afterward was amazing, even if Pick Me Up was strangely out of hollandaise sauce. The drive home was not so fun. Was starting to fall asleep in the end there. Bed couldn’t have come soon enough at 9:30 Sunday morning.

I wanted to prove to my mother that I totally wore my life jacket at one point, so there’s no need to spazz. I also totally helped paddle that canoe.

Ken is clearly the more friendly of the two of us.

But I’m way cuter, even if I am wearing a hideous and cheap life preserver.

See! I totally helped.

Photos courtesy of Daniil the Russian.

Can we marvel at how much of a pimp I am in this picture?

I went canoeing from Ayers Landing with a whole bunch of folks yesterday. Yes, it was cold, and yes, it was dreary, but we all had a blast. I got to play Lazy Canoer by staying up front (which also meant I got the privilege of pushing branches out of the way when we went through some foliage.

We did twelve miles down the Fox with a stop for lunch and a (very) brief stop at a cave. Our group was about twenty, and we passed another group of twelve around Mile 6 who were extremely drunk. They kept trying to get us to drink beer with them, and while some of us obliged, most of us just wanted to paddle.

It was cold, but tons of fun. It’s been far too long since the last time I was on a boat of any kind (Staten Island Ferry not included).

Photo courtesy of Ken Blaszak.

I spent some money. About $140, actually, over the past 24 hours. Which for me, is quite a bit. It takes me over 10 hours of working to get that, or over three days. So it’s not chump change.

But I’m pretty happy with my purchases because they open a world of possibility for me. The most exciting (to me anyway) is my brand new Keen Newport H2s.

Purchased at Geische Shoes for $102 including tax. I’ve bought pretty much every single pair of shoes that I wear today from them. We’ve been buying shoes from them since I was a kid and I’ve never been unhappy with the service or the shoes. All three (yes three!) pairs of Birkenstocks come from their shelves, as well as half the pairs of heels I own. So this is my fifth big spender purchase at Geische, and I’m happy to support a local store over a chain.

My other purchase was a Bell Faction multisport helmet:

Not quite as cool as the Nutcase Melonhead helmet, but also $20 cheaper. I’m just glad it doesn’t look stupid like those aerodynamic helmets do.

What makes me most excited about these purchases is the possibilities they open up to me. I finally have good kayaking and hiking shoes. I can finally ride my bike to work and to other places. I can finally do stuff.

Tony and I and a bunch of other people went to the Festival of Colors last Saturday, which was held in Knoch Knolls Park in Naperville. It was, how do you say? A pretty rocking time. Basically I got to spend an afternoon chasing little kids around trying to cover them in green and yellow flour. As you can see, I managed to get quite colorful myself.

The Festival of Colors is an Indian thing welcoming the coming of Spring. It was really amazing, punctuated by  delicious Indian food. It really made me wish that American culture had more active cultural festivals. Ours are far too passive. It seems that our culture is becoming more divided and making us feel more isolated. Sometimes all I want to do is reach out and touch somebody, make them acknowledge that I exist, and they exist, and we exist.

How is it that I feel most alive when I play on borrowed time?

Photos courtesy of Tony Thomas.

Between my server going down and a ridiculous amount of work that had to get done yesterday, I didn’t get a chance to post. Much apologies for the interrupted service.

Let’s see, what have I missed? Well, there was the earthquake that happened yesterday morning. You know, the 3.8 magnitude earthquake with the epicenter about 12 miles from my domicile that woke pretty much everyone up at exactly 4:00am. I had the added pleasure of having a puppy launch herself onto my body in a fit of panic.

Another thing that happened yesterday was a touch embarrassing. I was taken out by a first grader. And I don’t mean on a date. I was pretty much bowled over by an autistic seven-year-old. Sweet kid and, to some extent, my fault. If I’d been watching my buddy a little closer I could have stopped him from waving and thus prompting a bit of a freak out on the other child’s account. Gosh darn my kid being so friendly! Luckily, it turned out okay and I managed to get my buddy out of the way so I was the one who got run into and not him.

As for today: today was a special day. Today was 100 Day! Our kids had their 100th day of school today (thought it’s only my 97th; shhh). So I got to wear my educational tshirt on a non-friday and was given an awesome sticker. And boy did we count to 100 a ridiculous amount of times. Out entire day was filled with math activities involving counting to 100 and kids brought in collections of 100 things and it was awesome and silly.

The Batavia Public School’s Twitterfeed often sends alerts about things from the school time capsule. These unknown ladies were the 1907 Girl’s Basketball Champions of some unknown championship, either the last or second to last ever achieve this mysterious title before Illinois banned girls competitive sports in 1908. Which is incredibly sad, especially considering the Batavia Boy’s basketball team didn’t win a title until 1912. I also find it somewhat offensive that the 1912 banner still hangs in the Batavia High School gymnasium, but there is nothing to honor these girls for their 1907 accomplishment.

These ladies look capable, determined, healthy, and fun to me. It’s a shame that some organization of men decided their delicate lady bodies had to be protected from the horrors of athletics. While I’m not a big sports participant, I can only imagine how these women felt when they were told they could no longer play.

The Chicago area was hit by a pretty ridiculous ice storm yesterday. Freezing rain led to some of the highways temporarily shutting down and our driveway being covered in a sheet of ice.

But yesterday’s horror makes for today’s cheer. The trees are beautiful, if not a bit weighed down by ice.
Click pictures to see the full size glory.

Let me preface this with the fact that I am not a softy. I spent four years in New York City riding the MTA. I’ve been groped. I’ve been flashed. I’ve been eyed. Hell, I was once even threatened with a knife by a crazy man on the A at 3:00am because I was reading a book and he was convinced it was about him. Yeah, I’m not some scaredy-cat.

Chicago’s transit system is generally a much friendlier place than the MTA. I’ve never really had to put up with a lot of things that are just part of life in New York. For instance, I have never-ever been touched inappropriately–on accident or otherwise–on the CTA. I’ve never seen genitals on the CTA either.

Last night, however, was by the far the most uncomfortable I’ve ever been made to feel on any public transportation system. It started on the Red Line. I sat down at around 9:30. About 15 minutes later I felt the prickle of being watched. And then I noticed this guy just staring at me. He looked away as soon as I spotted him. No big deal, I told myself. I’m used to being looked at: I am an attractive young woman after all (not that it makes it okay for dudes to stare at me all creepy like). But again, it didn’t rattle me.

But then he kept staring at me. His eyes kept finding me and the look he had was not the kind I’m used to dealing with. It was all out staring, and without embarrassment at all.  And it made me uncomfortable. I’ve never felt that uncomfortable before from just being looked at.  I felt uncomfortable enough that when we reached my stop, I waited for the doors to open before collecting my stuff and rushing out.

I thought that would be that. I kind of laughed at myself when I glanced over my shoulder to make sure he wasn’t there. And he wasn’t. I didn’t see him.

I walked up Adams to Union Station to get on the Metra back to Aurora. I got in a car and sat down, pulled out my book, and thought I’d just read for the 20 minutes until the train was scheduled to leave. But then I felt that prickle again. I looked around but nothing. Then I looked up. Sitting above and across from me, and still staring me down, was the dude from the Red Line.

Okay, it’s one thing to be a creepy dude staring at me on a train, it’s an entire different thing to follow me to a different train and continue being creepy. I texted my sister and a friend immediately, then promptly switched cars. Luckily, I did not see him again.

The whole situation really shook me though. I’ve never felt that vulnerable in a public space before. I’ve never felt so violated without being touched. I’ve never felt so threatened without an exchange of words.

I mean, WTF? Why do some men feel like this is acceptable behavior? I am a woman, but I’m a human being first. Don’t follow me and certainly don’t be a creepy fuck about it.