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After truly dreadful weather on Saturday—pouring rain AND absurdly high temperatures AND muggy: it was like a monsoon—Sunday was the first real autumnal day, at least in some weeks. It was everything a day should be, in my book: it was clear and cool, with a strong wind that you fought against and drank in with delight. I decided to skank on church in favor of hanging out with friends, and so had a second breakfast at the Pantry with Stephen, ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
maweisse, and a friend of theirs. Although Grace was something of a regular there in her high school days, I’d never been there. It has a modest frontage and, on this occasion, a line stretching down the street. I was glad the others had gotten there first. We talked about our coffee addictions (or lack therof), conference papers, and great breakfast places we have known The food was very tasty (I shall have to remember to order ham-spinach-mushroom-cheddar omelets again), although the menu was not nearly on the scale of O’Rourke’s. But then, what is?
In the afternoon, Stephen and I took advantage of the weather to go hiking. For this, of course, we needed a car, so we recruited a friend of his called Elise, and, after protracted negotiations, got her to pick upstraussmonster, before we all drove out to Sleeping Giant (This is a large series of hills near New Haven, that looks like… you guessed it.) We hiked up the easy trail, pausing along the way for Stephen to examine the cliffs, and for everyone to admire periodic views over changing foliage. Oh, and gather juniper berries. (Long story.)
All in all, a lovely day. It made me reflect on the fact that I don’t have nearly enough like that; I don’t hang out with my friends—my geselle, my comitatus—nearly enough. Back in college, it was something of an event if I didn’t run into any particular person I knew several times a week: I would inquire anxiously of friends in Driscoll: were they sick? had they been eaten by a CS project? Here, by contrast, it's a bit of an event if I do run into someone (likeyaleartificer today> in the course of my daily round; still more if I actually get to hang out, have a beer, go hiking, or talk about medieval music theory. (Or all of the above). Part of this is due to my self-imposed exile from most Yale functions: I saw, and met, a vast number of people at Freedman’s Company of Scholars talk on medieval food last week. And part is a busy schedule of work, other work, two choirs, and childbirth class, and the consequent being wiped much of the rest of the time. But still, it’s sad. I need to get off my ass more.
maweisse, and a friend of theirs. Although Grace was something of a regular there in her high school days, I’d never been there. It has a modest frontage and, on this occasion, a line stretching down the street. I was glad the others had gotten there first. We talked about our coffee addictions (or lack therof), conference papers, and great breakfast places we have known The food was very tasty (I shall have to remember to order ham-spinach-mushroom-cheddar omelets again), although the menu was not nearly on the scale of O’Rourke’s. But then, what is?In the afternoon, Stephen and I took advantage of the weather to go hiking. For this, of course, we needed a car, so we recruited a friend of his called Elise, and, after protracted negotiations, got her to pick up
straussmonster, before we all drove out to Sleeping Giant (This is a large series of hills near New Haven, that looks like… you guessed it.) We hiked up the easy trail, pausing along the way for Stephen to examine the cliffs, and for everyone to admire periodic views over changing foliage. Oh, and gather juniper berries. (Long story.)All in all, a lovely day. It made me reflect on the fact that I don’t have nearly enough like that; I don’t hang out with my friends—my geselle, my comitatus—nearly enough. Back in college, it was something of an event if I didn’t run into any particular person I knew several times a week: I would inquire anxiously of friends in Driscoll: were they sick? had they been eaten by a CS project? Here, by contrast, it's a bit of an event if I do run into someone (like
yaleartificer today> in the course of my daily round; still more if I actually get to hang out, have a beer, go hiking, or talk about medieval music theory. (Or all of the above). Part of this is due to my self-imposed exile from most Yale functions: I saw, and met, a vast number of people at Freedman’s Company of Scholars talk on medieval food last week. And part is a busy schedule of work, other work, two choirs, and childbirth class, and the consequent being wiped much of the rest of the time. But still, it’s sad. I need to get off my ass more.
