Feels like winter/Xmas in Baltimore – Finally.

After I wore sandals and no jacket to IKEA Tuesday, I was tucked into a puffy vest and scarf last night, walking in the dark with a travel mug of very good coffee and holiday tunes on my little mp3 player.   It’s seldom that I walk anywhere alone anymore.  And, while I miss Charlotte when I do, it’s something I also savor.  The last time was nearly a month ago, when I sped my way on a 3 mile stroll to retrieve a lost Elmo doll.

This morning, Charlotte is helping Mommy fold laundry, which means picking things from the basket, plopping them onto Mommy’s lap and laughing.

Daddy takes a second — a distant second — when Mommy’s home from work and largely on weekends.  She follows Mommy everywhere and wants story after story.  Last night, she told Mommy which three stories she wanted: “Beeah, Henwy and Pond.”  (Long story.)  I don’t mind being second to Mommy.  She did, you know, carry her around for nine months and all that.  She’s never more excited than when Mommy’s home from work.  I can even get her into a mood that would require three cups of coffee from me if I tell her, when she gets up from her nap, that, “Mommy’s home soon!”

Today, we are taking Charlotte to Midtown for some holiday fun.  We both used to work there, and it’s weird not to spend time there anymore, the coffee capital of this fair city.

Lovely to not be dangerously hot outside.

Which meant, today, that Charlotte and I could have breakfast with Grandma and Aunt Sheree and that we get to take a walk later to see Aunt Frannie (Frances, same as Charlotte’s middle name) and Aunt Patti.  We we get to see Uncle Joey later, too, and Uncle Tom and Aunt Heather and Auntie Wu and Grandpa this weekend.

I’ve never liked hot weather.  But 100+ degree heat indices (and even temperatures!) are dangerous for a baby and have kept us indoors a hell of a lot this summer.  It’s even very hot when we do to the farmers market on Saturday mornings very early.

There’s escape this weekend in the form of temperatures in the mid-upper 8os, less humidity and, well, the sheer desire to go the hell outside!

“Look at dem blue ayez.”


We took Charlotte for a walk this evening because she’s been fussy from when we get home until she goes to bed all week.  We passed a man who said something about her pretty blue eyes.  I looked at my wife and joked that there will come a time that I would punch someone in the face for that.  Oh, the teenage years will be fun.

But, yes, her eyes really are this blue.

Honeysuckles in the morning.


Charlotte and I took a walk early this morning.  We exchanged many “Good Mornings,” enjoyed a nice breeze and savoured the smell of honeysuckles and freshly-cut grass. If she ever manages to stay awake in the baby carrier, she now insists on being able to look around at her leisure. This requires not only her usual sun-hat, but also sunglasses. Usually though, like today, she is asleep before I even hit the elevator, rocked by the nice warmth and softness of Daddy’s belly.

Baby name searches.

Our bus never came today; so we walked to work.  Talking about Baby names the whole time.  We had one picked, but now we’re not so sure.  We’re looking for something unique but not off-the-wall.  Possibly ethnic, but not esoteric.  Cute, but not precious.  Interesting, but not pretentious.  It’s complicated.

Been walking so much the bus looks fast to me.

I’ve blogged a lot about walking.  I know.  It’s something that I don’t do enough (because I am lazy and impatient) but something I enjoy endlessly.

Wednesday, I was at a community meeting at St. Paul Street and North Avenue in Central Baltimore.  It was supposed to last until 7:30 or 8:00, but it was over at 7:04 for pizza and chatting.  I’d already done my “networking” before the meeting started, so I bolted to catch my 7:53 bus at the train station.  On my way from my chair to the door, I thought, “Why should I bullshit in my office until my bus?  I can just walk!”  So when I left the building, I made a left and headed for home.

Sure, folks will chide you for walking through “that area” at “that time of night.”  Dude, 7:00pm dark is not the same as 2:00am dark — and I don’t walk around anywhere at that time (except once in Carbondale when we walked from the train station to home in the dead middle of the night after a trip to Memphis, with a tiny flashlight –  but that’s another story).  I didn’t see anyone sketchy and in fact was the sketchy person to lady who halted her exit from her car until after I passed her around 24th Street.  And for two young ladies carrying their groceries home above 25th Street.

Instead of driving or sitting on an empty bus or pedaling uphill, I got to peak into the big, old, stately houses on St. Paul Street (think 3-story rowhomes with big basements), at folks’ bookshelves and holiday decorations.  I greeted a dozen dog-walkers.  I caught the exam-time buzz as I cut through JHU to University Parkway.  I scared a guy on the section of University Parkway there the streetlights are out and where it is completely pitch black.  And, at the top of the hill, I saw the warm glow of the LED star lights in our windows, on the corner of the building, where warmth, my wife and a pasta dinner awaited.  In all, I walked 3 miles in 45 minutes.  Not that far, but fast, and I was tired.  That distance is small for a hike, but pretty long in a smallish city like Baltimore.

It was an exceptional night.  I read before bed and slept like a baby.

We planned some similar fun walking for Saturday, which is itself worthy of a post.

Walking tours out the wahzoo.

My  VISTA position largely involves Central Baltimore and hooking up higher ed folks with the area, to be better neighbors and to help one and all, etc.  The problem is, no one knows what the hell Central Baltimore is, and even more people are plain afraid of it.  When I mentioned that we’re ending tomorrow’s walking tour at the delicious Station North Arts Cafe’, someone told me, “[pause].  That’s not a real good neighborhood.”  Indeed, I wouldn’t walk around there at two in the morning, but I wouldn’t walk around anywhere in Baltimore or any city at two in the morning.  You really can’t blame someone who being like, “What’s Central Baltimore?” when they don’t know about the area.  No one’s a jerk for not knowing something.  But when people who don’t know anything start passing off judgments like they were just there last night, well, that’s a problem.

My co-worker and I led a walking tour in December and will lead another tomorrow and another Sunday in Central Baltimore.  If you see a dude with a megaphone (I shit you not), that’s me.

This week has been very insane, and both blogs suffer.  Apologies.  Next week will be much more sane and will allow for more posting.

I’m back, early August edition.


Got back home last night/this morning at about 2:30am.  Took a nice cab back from Penn Station from Amtrak from Penn Station (NYC) from the Acela from South Station (Boston) from MBTA Commuter Rail to and from Concord from North Station (Boston) from Amtrak from Penn Station (Baltimore) from a late cab from my home from a cab that night from a concert at Pier Six.  I slept like a rock that drank a case of beer last night.  Seven and a half hours of the closest sleep to death I might ever have slept.  That’s overly dramatic.  But, seriously, that was good sleep.

We walked everywhere this week.  All over the Inner Harbor/downtown Baltimore Tuesday.  We walked to Walden Pond.  Walked all around Boston, only taking the subway when rivers were involved (Quincy and Cambridge) and the train to Concord.  Walked so much all over New York for two days that I should get to be on TV.  We only got on the MTA subway once, to go from the garment district to the Natural History museum to save energy.  Then from there through the park, through midtown, all the way to the village.  Then back to midtown for our late train.  That was after two walks from midtown to and around and through the village the day before.

Only one twisted ankle, one twisted foot (on the way out of the apartment and to the train station) and one broken/bleeding toenail.  Not bad.  I did a much better job of staying hydrated than I usually do when I travel, too, which is good.  I’m not sitting here suffering through a mock hangover.

And we were smart enough to mail home the books we bought in Cambridge, dirty clothes and Walden Pond goodies/gifts from the post office right near South Station, since we literally carried everything for four days.  We scored a lot of good reading, including two by my favorite other worshipper at the altar of the god of walkers.  I’m stocked up until the cold comes, I think.

I hope I get time to post some photos soon.  We had a great time, and I’m outta here again from Tuesday until Friday for “business” in Philly.  I think I’ll get some freetime while I’m there, though, to explore a place I’ve really been wanting to go for a while.

Dear Mr. Buick SUV Dick.

Dear. Mr. Buick SUV Dick,

You should be aware that you broke two laws this morning.

First, in Maryland, pedestrians have the right of way.  That is why there is a big fucking white walkway that you can even see from the vast heights of your SUV seat.  There was even a sign there to remind really really stupid people of this fact.  There’s even a picture on it in case you can’t fucking read.  You are not allowed to drive through a crosswalk with a pedestrian in it, especially not gunning the engine because little pedestrian guy made you slow down.  I am well aware that I walked right in front of you as you turned into the driveway by ten or twenty yards.  That’s my right, wanker.

Also, in Maryland, it is illegal to blow your horn at pedestrians.  People turn around, look at you, and walk into more assholes who ignore people on foot.  Even though you did wait until after you passed and even though all you managed was a pussy little horn pump.  (SUV, sissy little horn pump, guess you’re compensating in a way so classical it makes me sick…)

I thought about going to find your car on the back lot where you were headed and leaving you a nasty note.  Then I saw your Assholemobile out front, where you found a nice spot near the door.  I even thought about waiting for you to come out so that I could tell you that you are, in fact, an asshole.  But, nah, too many nice folks milling around for me to ruin their mornings making a scene.  You did look small in that vehicle.  I’ll bet I could take you.  Besides, salmon colored polo shirts don’t make you look very tough.

And in case you were wondering, yes, that gesture was me giving you the finger in front of old people.  I hope you get a fucking ticket twelve times today, even though the PoPos can’t ticket you for being a douchebag, in which case you’d probably lose your license.

Love and kisses,

This Dude

Like this bird.


Geez, with this crappy weather, I found myself like this little bird today, hunkering down in head-to-toe flannel and socks.  I did walk to the market in the rain, with a hoody.  I swung my folded umbrella, to alert people that I was in fact enjoying some rain, rather than forgetful of said umbrella.  Stupid decision, since I went from not feeling well to feeling worse.  I watched Broken Flowers when my work was done.  Drank too much coffee, too.

Did I mention that I learned how to use a sewing machine?

[This is from three years ago, when I had a balcony on which I hang stuff like birdhouses.  I didn't move.  Again.]