Passing

I very much enjoy the time I get to spend outdoors both on my way to and while I'm at Elm Creek Park Reserve. At the pond we can often hear pheasants in the surrounding grasses and biking home through the park, I often catch a glimse of young rabbits who are only a few inches long. Their youth is very apparent when I pass them, and they dart in three different directions before deciding to take cover in the tall grass, a refuge to which the older rabbits would take immediately.

Even out of the park, I've had some interesting interactions will animals (and people) on my path. Last week, I was biking next to Hemlock lane under I-94, and a morning dove was walking a very straight line right down the center of the bike path. When I neared it, the little bird "pulled over" to the wall on the left, giving me pleanty of room to pass by. When I looked over my shoulder a few seconds later, I saw that it had moved back to the center and was continuing its very linear journey. Later on that same ride, I approached two women who were walking shoulder-to-shoulder, taking up too much of the path for me to comfortably pass. I called out to them in my usual manner of bicycle on your left! The woman on the left attempted to step forward and right to give me room, but she was thwarted by the woman on the right who attempted to step forward and left, apparently mixing up left and right for a moment.

As a bicyclist in a city dominated by cars and clueless power-walkers, I've found the animals to be (generally) much easier to share the roads with. I add 'generally' because the Canada geese are just downright nasty.

Which opposite of quick?

Both the Elm Creek swim pond and the Maple Grove Community Center pool are frequented by a number of mentally disabled persons. Wading in the water is apparently an exciting and enjoyable activity for many of them. In some ways I think they get to have more fun than anyone, since they retain a child-like enthusiasm for such a simple pleasure even after they are large enough to take advantage of the deeper water. Sometimes they require some extra patience, but usually I find them to make enjoyable patrons since due to their obvious joy.

Today I was in the men's bathroom applying sunscreen before work started, and I had the place to myself. I looked up and saw a man approaching my very slowly. His age was difficult to guess, and his face was disfigured. His crooked mouth gaped open, and one brow was enlarged to the point where he seemed to be limited to sight from the eye on the opposite side. He walked with a limp, his arms stretched out in front of him. I wasn't sure if I should move out of his way or stay still to make navigation easier for him. I decided to stay still, but just as the man neared me, another man, similarly disfigured, entered the room, walking in an identical manner. I was suddenly struck by their similarity to zombies of films. Their lifeless gaze, clumsy gait, and outstretched arms made them dead ringers for the walking dead.

And for just a moment - no more than a single second - I was afraid. I told myself that I was being ridiculous, but my immediate follow-up thought was, maybe that's what all the people in the movies tell themselves. But, of course, my instant of fear was silly, and I was glad it did not prompt me to act. The first man only brushed my shoulder with his arm, and I realized as he passed me that he was merely sticking to the right wall in order to navigate the room. I watched to make sure both men made it to the toilets, and then I departed into the summer sun.

High praise

This evening there were a large number of bikes still locked to the rack when I left the pond for home. Several guys (a couple adults, a few kids, all male) were there with me, unlocking their bikes and packing their bags. A kid of about ten was parked next to me, and he watched me unlock my bike, stow my cable in its mount, turn on and attach my headlight and taillight, and clip in my water bottle and computer. His eyes widened and he said to me in an awed voice, Your bike has everything. I have a hunch that's about as high as praise comes from a ten-year old bicyclist.

All that flitters is not a goldfinch

In the late spring there was a beautiful pair of goldfinches that could often be seen around the yard together. The birdfeeder in our youngest ash tree only accepts small birds, and they tended to prefer that one. Since then one of the birds left and the other one has remained. It has a dull coat, but I don't know if that means if it is the female or if the male has lost his bright plumage since the end of mating season. Whichever one it is, it spends much time in the trees or at the feeder by itself, but occasionally comes to peck at our windows. It will flitter at the bottom of the window for minutes at a time, tapping its beak against the glass. At first I thought it was trying to get in, but earlier this morning I saw it doing the same thing to the sideview mirror of our neighbors' Jaguar. I suppose this whole time its been seeing not what's inside, but what's reflected from the outside—namely its own reflection. I think it's a very lonely bird.

Intriguing Product

We had a Forth of July party at work yesterday, potluck style. I brought in puppy chow (the well-known chocolate Chex cereal concoction), which competed with a large number of deserts. Perhaps the best thing I tried was an excellent jarred salsa. I was pleased to see that it was a local product to boot.

The ninth intriguing product is Salsa Lisa.

London, Illinois

Apparently my school selected suitemate Jared London will not be attending Syracuse after all. I talked to his mother this morning, and she informed me that he will be going to the University of Illinois. I don't know what he will be studying. I think I'll be calling the housing department soon to see if a new name is available.

Beginning

This evening marked the official end to my being "single," something that I've been since 23 January 2004. Who has set me free from this label? I suspect any regular reader could guess that it's Claire.