Shuffling Off to Buffalo
Aug. 5th, 2023 10:32 amI’ve wondered why Buffalo is called “Buffalo."
Bison never roamed here.
But anyway, here I am! Shortly shuffling off to the Expo of Oddities & Curiosities (and thank you, again![[profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
pinstripe_bindi, for the recommendation.)
After that, I may go to the Buffalo zoo—yes, yes, zoos: Politically incorrect! I don’t care; I’ve always liked them.
Or I may do a self-guided tour through some of Buffalo’s historic districts. Buffalo has architectural significance, being one of those cities for which my buds Frederick Law Olmstead and Calvin Vaux designed a parkway system. (The other city for which Olmstead and Vaux designed a parkway system is—ahem—Brooklyn!)
And, of course, I must go to Dinosaur Barbecue.
###
The drive here was wild on account of thunderstorms.
At one point, visibility was literally zero, and still, cars were racing along I90 at 85mph.
Not me!
I somehow managed—blindly—to pull the little Prius on to the right shoulder, 10 feet in front of an enormous semi (figuring a semi wouldn’t budge if it got rear-ended) and waited out the storm.
I wasn’t scared at all.
I figured that was because I was listening to Jenette McCurdy read her memoir I’m Glad My Mom Died, which is so harrowing that practically nothing is scary in comparison.
The audiobook of I’m Glad My Mom Died lasted precisely the length of the drive, which added to my pleasing sense of the universe’s synchrony.
###
I left for Buffalo in the early afternoon after doing my monthly Hyde Park Food Pantry volunteer stint.
The garden is finally producing enough veggies to donate:
And yesterday, Claude, Mary, and Deb all showed up, so I was able to get all the latest dish on the garden—who is behind on their volunteer hours and (more importantly!) who is schtupping who!
A lot of schtupping goes on behind the scenes at the garden.
This always comes as kind of a shock to me since, except for the exceedingly happily married Claude, I personally don’t find any of my fellow gardeners particularly schtuppable.
###
The AirBnB where I’m staying is this exceedingly elegant flat right in the middle of a transitional neighborhood that only reminds me of Brooklyn circa 4 million years ago because my brain is one of those brains that's wired to make comparisons, and nothing else is remotely like it.
Of course, I have kind of a thing for industrial blight that’s struggling to reinvent itself:
Bison never roamed here.
But anyway, here I am! Shortly shuffling off to the Expo of Oddities & Curiosities (and thank you, again
pinstripe_bindi, for the recommendation.)After that, I may go to the Buffalo zoo—yes, yes, zoos: Politically incorrect! I don’t care; I’ve always liked them.
Or I may do a self-guided tour through some of Buffalo’s historic districts. Buffalo has architectural significance, being one of those cities for which my buds Frederick Law Olmstead and Calvin Vaux designed a parkway system. (The other city for which Olmstead and Vaux designed a parkway system is—ahem—Brooklyn!)
And, of course, I must go to Dinosaur Barbecue.
###
The drive here was wild on account of thunderstorms.
At one point, visibility was literally zero, and still, cars were racing along I90 at 85mph.
Not me!
I somehow managed—blindly—to pull the little Prius on to the right shoulder, 10 feet in front of an enormous semi (figuring a semi wouldn’t budge if it got rear-ended) and waited out the storm.
I wasn’t scared at all.
I figured that was because I was listening to Jenette McCurdy read her memoir I’m Glad My Mom Died, which is so harrowing that practically nothing is scary in comparison.
The audiobook of I’m Glad My Mom Died lasted precisely the length of the drive, which added to my pleasing sense of the universe’s synchrony.
###
I left for Buffalo in the early afternoon after doing my monthly Hyde Park Food Pantry volunteer stint.
The garden is finally producing enough veggies to donate:
And yesterday, Claude, Mary, and Deb all showed up, so I was able to get all the latest dish on the garden—who is behind on their volunteer hours and (more importantly!) who is schtupping who!
A lot of schtupping goes on behind the scenes at the garden.
This always comes as kind of a shock to me since, except for the exceedingly happily married Claude, I personally don’t find any of my fellow gardeners particularly schtuppable.
###
The AirBnB where I’m staying is this exceedingly elegant flat right in the middle of a transitional neighborhood that only reminds me of Brooklyn circa 4 million years ago because my brain is one of those brains that's wired to make comparisons, and nothing else is remotely like it.
Of course, I have kind of a thing for industrial blight that’s struggling to reinvent itself:
