Hello! 

Thanks for visiting my website. I'm focusing on the blog now, while Allison and I gear up for our trip to Asia later this year. My published writing is also archived here, as well as travel photography from previous trips I've taken. 

Up and down the familiar avenue / Super Tuesday

Up and down the familiar avenue / Super Tuesday

There is no more familiar stretch of road than Monroe Avenue between Laburnam Crescent and downtown Rochester, unless it's Monroe Avenue between Laburnam Crescent and Pittsford Plaza, in the other direction. Today it's back and forth between Laburnam and downtown. 

After struggling out of bed at 7:30, Allison and I made our way to the Y. We've been clinging to this habit with as much determination as we can muster, even though she works constantly and the ongoing winter makes waking up difficult. But it's March 1 today. We are nearing the end of this cold, gray hell. After the Y, I take Allison to the bank. She'll walk to work afterward, also nearby. 

I return home to retrieve and organize my tax paperwork, which needs to be brought to the central library downtown to be scanned so that I can mail electronic copies to my tax lady in New York. As I coax Jolene down Monroe Avenue, bumping over potholes and cursing vaguely under my breath, I am consumed by weird thoughts like, "What would happen if I ran this red light—or if I forced that car next to me off the road?"

What prevents all the potential chaos in the world anyway? There could be so much more.

I'm tense because the whole tax-paying rigamarole is even more fraught with uncertainty this year. Pat and I usually I have a face-to-face meeting in her cluttered basement office in Park Slope, her dogs sniffing my crotch as she squints at the screen and pecks away at the keyboard with two fingers. Pat is a grumpy but friendly middle-aged lesbian with green hair. I'm 95 percent sure she knows what she's doing, but still, every year, I pray I don't get audited. This year, with me temporarily sequestered in Rochester, she'll conduct her hocus-pocus over email, which makes the whole process seem more tenuous and less real. 

It's also Super Tuesday, featuring Democratic primaries or caucuses in Alabama, American Samoa, Arkansas, Colorado, Georgia, Massachusetts, Minnesota, Oklahoma, Tennessee, Texas, Vermont, and Virginia, and by Democrats abroad (an interesting category, which I might find myself in soon, if I can stomach remaining a Democrat after this "Hillary MUST be the nominee" march of death the DNC seems to be sponsoring. Obviously I'm anxious and eager to see how Bernie fairs today. Twinges of dread, since so many Southern states heavily favor Hillary Clinton, as does the media and the DNC itself. I was encouraged, however, to see that Bernie has vowed not to quit until all 50 states have had their primaries. 

It takes me two trips downtown to the library to get all of my documents scanned; I neglected to do the backs the first time. That's two more trips up and down Monroe Avenue, past all the old familiar shops (like Poster Art and Archimage), past the new restaurants and bars that have replaced the ones I used to know (like Han Noodle where Little Caesar's used to be), past the McDonald's where Nick and I used to go for "perfect" cheeseburgers every day after middle school, and finally downtown, where I occasionally drop my mother off for work at the library. 

Today I am the one with library business. I have to get these documents scanned—ideally with as little interaction from the staff as possible. The woman who helps me get oriented on the scanner turns out to be friendly. Still, I want her to go away, to be left in peace to struggle alone with these clearly official yet seemingly haphazard documents, this unpleasant reminder of the financial world, income, taxes, deductions, investments, etc. 

There are only a few hours left before I get to sit in the living room with a glass of wine (or four) and watch the Super Tuesday returns come in. Maybe something nice will happen. Then again ... 

Buffalo excursion

Buffalo excursion

Decaying pumpkin atop a tree stump, part 2: President Trump

Decaying pumpkin atop a tree stump, part 2: President Trump