Suzanne Vega, "Rock in This Pocket (Song of David)". Because when you're trying to get chump change back from people who just made a killing, and they can't remember your last name after four and a half years of cashing your checks, the refrain, "It's so small to you, and so large to me" will pop into your head.

So yesterday, my sister Alanna ran in the NYC Marathon for the second time; it was her fourth marathon overall, and we are immensely proud of her.

My mom and aunt came in to stay with me Saturday night so that we could spend Sunday hopping about and trying to catch sight of her as she ran. This meant that after the celebratory dinner back in Alanna's neighborhood, we returned to my place to gather their bags, then turned around to get to Penn Station.

A bit of dialogue from the ride out to my place, wherein my mom seeks out a way to keep me from having to make the round trip:

Mom: Is there a train you can put us on that will take us right to Grand Central?
Me: Since you're not going to Grand Central, no.
Aunt Madeline: Oh, God! Please don't leave us alone!

. . . and I'll use small words so that even Candy Crowley can understand:

Losing control of the House and possibly the Senate is not a victory for Republicans, conservatism, or Bush.

Winning elections is empirically a victory for Democrats, people along the liberal/progressive/moderate continuum, and sanity.

The eagerness with which the 24/7 newsers ate up this ridiculous line is as disappointing as it is unsurprising.

(And yes, I get the whole "only true conservatives remain" argument, like how the most hardy roaches survive an extermination. That doesn't mean the vermin are happy to see the pesticide tank.)

One of the consequences of having moved is that I can now show the world the magical (or magically dorktastic) map I made to our former apartment (much better than giving friends long-winded directions). Sure, I started with a basic Yahoo! map. But I made it so much more!

Behold:

I seriously devoted energy to aligning the subway logos just so. And note the instructions as to which exits ought to be taken from the subway!

I am proud of this out of all proportion. I have already begun one for the new pad, and I am elevating my game: now, I'm including bus lines. Awwww yeah.

No one wants your car. Now change the settings on that fucking alarm so it's not triggered by a strong breeze. And for the love of god, if it does go off, make it stop.

Asshole(s).

Warmly,

Adair

True story.

But I should still remember to take my digicam or SLR around with me. This is getting ridiculous.

Pics from yesterday's walk through Prospect Park.

The lake.

One of the bigass trees by the Long Meadow.

Quite the revelation, I know.

Anyway, what was meant to be a quick stroll through Prospect Park turned out to be a very long photo session. Because all of the following things are wrong with me:

-- I can't just see a duck. I have to look for its duck and geese friends!
-- If I have a camera, I have to photograph all of them
-- When near a lake, i have to take photos every three feet as the vista changes
-- Similarly, during a sunset, I have to take photos every 45 seconds as the light changes
-- If the moon is out, I have to shoot it in every damn segment of the frame
-- If the moon is out amongst trees . . . oh, forget it, I go on forever
-- Like most photo nerds, I bracket my exposures
-- Unlike many photo nerds, I also go beyond bracketing and just screw around with exposures to see what I can make appear from seemingly drab subjects

Well, this walk through the park was basically the perfect storm of my photo spasticity. Ducks! A lake! Sunset! A moon visible before and after! I'm lucky to have emerged without smoke coming out of the lens.

The very much culled results can be found by clicking on one of the ducks below: