Brooklyn is wet from rain and I'm fighting the brain suckers in my computer that are called pinball, solitare, hearts, and minesweeper. Jeff from Yale Frames said yesterday that he would call me last night so I waited in the apartment for him to call. I also left a message with Helena and resting seemed like a capitol idea.
No one called. I played games until my brain was numb, determined to win.
I had plenty of time to let the job opportunity at Yale Framing percolate in my thoughts. If I were Jeff, I wouldn't call right away either. I would consult my staff, look at the financial implications, and decide if taking an impulsive risk like this would be the best way to go. I like the opportunity because it's a good fit for my skills.
But you know, there are opportunities everywhere. My volunteer obligations in New Ipswich are weighing heavier on my mind than my lack of work.
Last week in Brooklyn was sort of an unveiling. The jazziness is less this time. I'm not discovering everything like I did before, but I'm reminded comfortably of what I like about Brooklyn. While walking on the local sidewalks yesterday, I caught Alfie's eye, or maybe his wife caught my eye and she elbowed him, at a stoplight near his house. I stopped to chat for a few moments and in true Brooklyn form he asks, 'Did you have snow in New Hampshire? Welcome back.'
I like this place.
Today I should do something and much of that depends on the weather. I'd like to take photos somewhere and maybe I'll break down and take the train to Prospect Park and take photos in the Botanical Gardens. If the sun comes out, raindrops, sun, and flowers always make a great combination. I could bring my photos to Manhattan (the framing job is amazing!), but I'm reluctant still until I learn more. More of what? I'm unsure. But if I had Internet access I could do some research to ease my anxiety.
So I beat most of the brain suckers to my satisfaction. I won a perplexing arrangement in Hearts; I beat first, second, and nearly beat third level of Minesweeper; I won a solitare round; and I have a new top score in Pinball. Enough brain sucking for me. Time to turn to real life and see what I can drum up today.
Yogurt and maybe oatmeal are first on the list.
It's late afternoon now and I spent most of the day at the Brooklyn Botanical Garden in Prospect Park. Recent violence at Prospect Park cast an foreboding aura and I saw numerous NYPD patrols throughout the park. Inside the Botanical Garden, there wasn't any evidence of violence, but that was likely due to the $8 admission fee.
Earlier this morning as I walked from the apartment to the 9th Avenue subway station, I stopped and talked with Alfie for quite a while. He's from Sicily and as Lilly said last week, 'The ones born in Italy know the soil.' Alfie and I had a long, technical discussion about gardening, soil, pests, and plant health. It's familiar and comfortable to talk about agriculture, yet surprising to do so in the midst of the City.
After talking with Alfie, I took the train to Prospect Park and learned that the garden opens at 10:00 AM. I was early, but my pattern here is to rise with the sun so I'm typically early for everything.
Since I paid the $8 admission fee, I stubbornly stayed long and took hundreds of photos of various flowers, plants, and things that caught my eye. This part of Brooklyn differs from the cheerful immigrant class around my apartment so there were less children. But again many mothers, or maybe nannies, pushed strollers through the garden paths.
Helena called me while in the park and we made tentative arrangements to meet at some point. She's helping me find a contact in the publishing industry to get me insight there.
I didn't talk to anyone in the park and I stubbornly bought only a sandwich at their cafe and I drank water from the fountains scattered throughout the park. What fascinated me the most was finding two forgotten wine glasses nestled in the rain splayed gravel between stone benches at the Alfred T. White memorial. Rain filled the glasses with water so I dubbed the 'Rain Glasses' and marvelled at the gravel on their glass bottoms and stems.
Elsewhere in the Native Flora Garden, I learned the proper names of many trees and shrubs that I see regularly in the New Hampshire woods. The rose gardens were past their bloom.
Tristan and Jim arrive later tonight and I look forward to seeing my cousin and friend in Brooklyn.
Time to use the Internet cafe to upload the photos and update my blog.