sunshine....

Not really — not today — but one can dream. At least it isn't raining. The sun will shine again, perhaps as soon as tomorrow. The basement will drain, so I can stop babysitting the sump pump, clearing its clogs, making sure it's operating at its highest capacity, that it hasn't burnt out. I can so relate to that sump pump ... without which we'd be sunk (seriously) right about now.

Meanwhile, here's a looking-at-the-bright-side snippet I overheard at the coffee shop yesterday: "One thing about Newporters; they've got nice foul weather gear." It's true. I confirmed it by looking around me at the sea of heavy-duty jackets in red, yellow and blue with hard-to-open velcro pockets and industrial-strength zippers and reflective trim and strangely-shaped hoods with stretchy strings attached. Hey, we need our foul weather gear — not just in Newport, of course. And (lest you think otherwise) it's not about money, or showmanship, or even about boats. It's because there are good deals on foul weather gear at the Boat Show, spring and fall.

I saw the spectacle — the foul weather gear spectacle — again this morning, on TV (back at the coffee shop), where a reporter stood beside a closed ramp of Route 95 in a very sporty red raincoat with a huge "HH" logo on it. Nothing against Helly Hansen; I love Helly Hansen. But is this the image Rhode Island conveys to the world?? Yes, the tiniest state is making headlines for its foul weather (even its figurative foul weather):

A battered Rhode Island watches as the water rises

By ERIC TUCKER, Associated Press Writer – Wed Mar 31, 12:12 am ET

CRANSTON, R.I. – A record-shattering rainstorm hammered the Northeast on Tuesday, delivering widespread flooding for the second time this month and unleashing particular havoc in Rhode Island, a tiny coastal state already beleaguered by a sagging economy and backbreaking unemployment rate. The storm soaked all corners of what is known as the Ocean State, pushing rivers over their banks, closing roads and schools, and requiring hundreds of people to evacuate, including by boat. The rain finally tapered off by Tuesday afternoon but resumed in Providence by evening, with officials bracing for what is expected to be the most severe flooding to hit the state in more than 100 years.

Great. Looking forward to it. The sunshine, that is. Despite whatever storms, imperfections, energy issues, emptiness — and all manner of foulness — may arise (or fall) in the meantime ...

water

omg TOO MUCH WATER everywhere including IN THE BASEMENT so i've got to make this quick but WANT TO SAY that waves and all these rainy days ARE SO RELENTLESS the way they keep rolling in ONE AFTER ANOTHER which is totally mesmerizing IF YOU'RE SURFING or swimming or paddling (the latest thing) or EVEN JUST WATCHING the rhythmic undulations but right now STANDING ANKLE DEEP in my basement lake with sump pump cranking and wet-vac in hand YET BASICALLY POWERLESS is not really much fun at all and another heavy DOWNPOUR IS HAPPENING at this very moment so the water TABLE WILL RISE even higher and i really wish i were ankle-deep AT THE BEACH on a warm sunny summer day WATCHING WAVE ACTION but i'm not so that's ALL FOR TODAY and good luck to everyone staying dry SAFE AND AFLOAT wherever you are ...

... remember that SIMILARLY CRAZY WEATHER way back in December??

miles

So many miles in the past week (and in general). And that's not a hotel room door, though I am in a hotel room at this moment: #125, no image required. I dropped Darling Daughter back at college after her spring break last night. That's her door, #310, which takes me right back, mentally, to my own first-year college dorm room, #403. Why-oh-why do I retain (let alone share) such needless information?? No idea. It'd be nice to delete certain cerebral files, like old dorm room numbers, in the interest of making room for new files — wouldn't it?? If only we could choose which files to delete rather than forgetting things like names and/or passwords and/or pin numbers at the precise moments we need them most.

But that's beside the point, if there is a point ...

It's more relevant to point out what I saw during a walk through Touro Park (in Newport, the presumed topic here) the other day, a nice day. It never fails that I spy a handful of things worth remembering ... I think ... unless these are representative of the aforementioned needless images in need of nothing but deletion. There's the tower, of course — gifted to the city by Judah Touro in the 1850s but in existence long before that. I've pondered the tower and its mystery (click if you're curious) many times in the past, on past walks, but no matter how many times I've passed it, there's some new angle or glimpse — of Reverend Channing, most frequently, but also of Commodore Perry (one of two, the other Commodore Perry standing tall in Washington Square, an image I somehow managed to retain from last fall) and assorted other characters. They had their days, even heydays (haydays??) — all past.

And, on this day, being a few days ago, I met a sweet puppy named Kirby who smiled in much the same way as our sweet (late) dog P. Their expressions were so similar you could have knocked me over with a feather — but that's past, too. At the moment, i.e. now, I really need to hop in the car, get back on the highway, and drive the last few hundred miles from this far-flung college town toward home ...

And in the event I wasn't clear — not so unusual — the two Commodore Perrys are two different Commodore Perrys: the one in Touro Park is Matthew; the one in Washington Square is Oliver Hazard. They were brothers. And I can't tell you how pleased I am to have remembered their names ...

parting shot

Spring in The City may have a few confines ... but the signs are all there. I saw them while walking up the street/avenue with my mom (Grandma Betty??) and Darling Daughter yesterday, on our way to the ICP (International Center of Photography), where we saw a very cool exhibit of the Czech photographer Tichy whose life's work has been to take blurry, skewed, random, imperfect shots with homemade cameras, because that's how life is (imperfect and homemade??) and also as an artistic jab at the confines of Communism. We saw them again — the signs of spring, including a few fiddleheads popping up their bizarre little heads — on our way to/from MoMA, where we saw the fascinatingly bizarre Tim Burton exhibit and the bizarrely fascinating performance art of Marina Abramovic, who was sitting there, in the middle of MoMA, engaging in a staring contest (essentially) with whoever wanted to sit across a table from her and stare, as the centerpiece of her own exhibit entitled "The Artist is Present." Then Tracey Ullman sat next to us at the MoMA café; I had no idea who she was, but Grandma Betty recognized her. Really. Perhaps she was there for the Tim Burton exhibit, as she (Ullman, not Grandma Betty) starred in his movie Corpse Bride. And, in the case of Ullman, we tried not to stare. In short (or long), it was a good day, an interesting day, with much walking and richness of sights, capped off by another trip to that rooftop bar — how could we resist?? — if at a slightly later hour than our prior visit, i.e., lights were switching on despite the sky's still being blue, which reminded me of a scene I'd seen while walking in Newport just days before ...

big city

Stuff looks different up close. Bigger?? Smaller?? I'm not sure; it's just different. There's less perspective, or a different perspective, or something ... and that's so totally obvious it's an utter(ed) absurdity. In any case, I certainly enjoyed the view from the partially-open rooftop bar where I sipped a beer lateafternoon/earlyevening yesterday just as the sun was starting to drop but still doing its warm, bright lateafternoon/earlyevening thing. I enjoyed the view of rooftop water tanks, too. A whole wide world of water tanks. That said — and because all this talk of cities other than Newport is starting to make this/me a case of false advertising — there's much warmth and brightness going on in Newport, too, as I noted on a walk, before we left, down to the reservoir (our collective water tank??), across from First Beach, where I really miss walking along the raised embankment now that all the bridges have been removed. Wherever we're walking (you and me, I mean), on whatever day (as it always seems to happen all in one day), it's amazing to see/feel the special warmth and brightness of latewinter/earlyspring ... isn't it?? Somehow, I tend to forget about spring; it's always a surprise, i.e. WOW, COOL, LOOK, as if we all hadn't seen flora and fauna do their respective things any numbers of times before. But in these/those first days of spring — and up close — it's just different. Gotta love different.

oh, canada

On our way home — driving from Montréal to Newport (which takes just over seven hours, in case you're curious, if you don't stop too much or too long along the way) — we missed the exit. How did we miss the sign that said, essentially, "USA, this way??" I don't know. Busy talking, I guess. So we took the next exit (and it was a rather long way between exits), filled up with gas (which we needed to do anyway) and inquired of the pleasant young man behind the counter at the gas station if it'd be easier to retrace our steps/tracks/treads back along the highway, or if we could just head South from here/there and find our way along the back roads. He shrugged and said he wasn't sure — he'd never been to the U.S. — but that he thought we could take a left, then another left for Billington (Burlington??) down the road a ways, and we'd get there. We weren't all that confident in his answer, mostly because he wasn't confident in his answer, but we didn't want to get back on the highway and waste time going backwards, so figured we'd try it. Then we remembered the GPS — ah, yes, the GPS; how did we forget that?? And it told us (in that weird GPS accent) a different way. So off we went, feeling much better (about everything). Long story short — because, really, we're getting in the car again this morning to head to NYC, and I have to stop blabbering so I can pack a bag — in following the advice of the sage GPS, we were on a completely deserted and desolate back road with no confidence whatsoever in where we were headed, generally or specifically, in no time. Canada was suddenly huge, flat, empty, enormous and the only landmark was the strange, dark, mound of mountains we'd seen crouching in the distance all weekend, except now they were closer, i.e., this did not feel like the right direction at all. In fact, it felt kinda freaky. So we pulled over (at a beat-up, forlorn-looking mailbox), turned around, found our way back to the gas station, where we turned left — exactly as that pleasant young man (to whom I wish all manner of happy travels) had said — and wound our way to the USA (and home!) without further incident ...

mélange

It's raining again — encore une fois!! — in Newport this morning, so why not ponder our weekend in Montréal un peu plus?? The stone streets, gray stone buildings, the view from atop Mont Royal ... all so cool, colorful (despite grayness), cozy even, quintessential. Foreign yet familiar ... as I've said umpteen times. In the Vieux Port, especially — despite having come from Newport (get it??) — we felt right at home, chez nous, if simultaneously elsewhere (oui, c'est ça), even though Montréal is much bigger than we knew or expected at 1.9 million residents (nearly twice the population of the entire state of RI), making it the sixth most populous city within Canada and the U.S. combined.

Oh, and the second largest French-speaking city in the world.

We had such fun with the language ... made every attempt to speak ... and to listen, of course, especially to the IMAX movie we opted to see en français. We saw two movies, actually (and strongly recommend Moi, Van Gogh). Visited two museums — deux musées. Strolled through McGill and past the Hudson Bay Company (a.k.a. The Bay/La Baie), a department store maintenant, en essence (but don't you remember it from history books??). Did a good job — ou assez bien, je suppose — reading menus and signs.

Still, people greeted us with "Bonjour Hi" — I guess that says it all. Clearly, we were doing a hack-job trying to parle français. Even the street musician who serenaded us as we slurped our soupe à l'oignon (et une bière) at a sidewalk café saw/heard right through us as he played Michelle Ma Belle, such a conveniently bi-lingual chanson. He ended his act (guitar case open) with: "Merci very much thank you beaucoup." Seriously. Some things require no translation ...

Okay, enough. Somehow, all this/that just reminded me of a sign I've seen on walks in Newport — back to Newport — nailed to a fence on Old Beach (Vieille Plage??) Road ...

And, with that, perhaps I'll get back on-track here ... although, in all honesty, we're headed from Newport to New York tomorrow ... all in the name of "spring break" ...

mixing it up

We left Newport — left Newport! — on a beautiful afternoon when it was just starting to look and feel like summer and headed North. What were we thinking?? Um, better to head North than South — figuratively speaking. First stop: Burlington (VT), on the shores of Lake Champlain, with the Adirondacks across the way, i.e. delightful (if not exactly foreign) and offering a very clear sense of direction ...

Then on to Montréal, where the boats were not only foreign but somewhat bigger than those to which we're accustomed, all tied-up stern-to along the pier with its unfamiliar flags, unfamiliar lights, unfamiliar language. Foreign is refreshing (even critical) from time to time — isn't it?? We (Mr. Betty, Darling Daughter and I) had lots of fun and a few unforeseen adventures despite skies being generally gray. Of course, the sun came out just before our time was up (all too quickly) and we headed South — quel dommage! — toward home ...

More on that particular adventure (that one right there ^^) another time, if you have time to listen. If I manage to remember ... that his name is Jean Charest, current Premier of Québec, and he is/was being accused of not listening by a parade of tens of thousands of government workers waving little green flags and blowing little green whistles in the streets of Montréal yesterday. Meanwhile, amid whatever foreign-ness, there's always the familiar ... ho-hum.