More little guys, for January 7-11:
January 7: It may be difficult to see, but it’s snowing in this one. Really hard. I was in Lincoln Park at the time and decided to walk home. As I neared home I kept walking, and kept walking for a while. The moments of peace and quiet that this crazy busy loud city is capable of producing will always astound me…so the least I can do is do my best to appreciate them. Right?
January 8: Friday night was spent bundling up and braving the cold to say goodbye to a dear friend who’s off to Patagonia for a two week trek. Lots of old friends and new acquaintances and beer towers and drinking games…and stories and wagers and planning and reminiscing, all in a vintage-y Irish bar in Wicker Park. Time passes too quickly on nights like these.
January 9: I volunteered at the Lincoln Park Conservatory this morning. I’m not sure who benefited more: myself, or the conservatory. Three hours with a great gang of people from all over the city, spent shoveling snow, pruning plants, organizing pots, and stacking cinder blocks in warm greenhouses made for an excellent start to an excellent day. I also know more about perennials and venus fly-traps than I’d ever planned on knowing.
January 10: My favorite way to spend a Sunday morning…coffee and the NYT at the Starbucks down the street from my apartment, post-yoga. Things that were not photographed due to poor conditions, today: the short story I made progress on (not photographed because it’s not finished), a nice long walk on the lakefront with a friend and his dog (not photographed because it was the coldest walk evar), and an absolutely amazingly delicious meal at Urban Belly (not photographed because it was consumed too quickly).
January 11: A downside to living alone? Cooking for one is slightly anti-climactic, usually too much work, and for some reason, you find yourself developing strange urges to take pictures of your meals. An upside? No one else is there to stop you when you add twice the amount of diced tomatoes to your guacamole recipe, or to witness your warm burrito’s tortilla giving way the second you pick it up off the plate.
I’ll *try* to be a better photo-poster. Starting now.