Inspired by the other (and ever so wonderful) Whitney who you can and should read here, I made a collection of dear summer (and early fall!) photos as faux polaroids on Rollip.  Fun!

















There's Matt baking pizzas in his earth oven, Dede being cute as all hell in the garden, the four (of six) champagne bottles that kicked off our Pure night, KP buried in sand at Bennett Beach, two fuzzy scenes from two beautiful gardenpartyhouse dance parties, breathing a little fresh air at Zoar Valley, and Steve.  Heat's on and summer's gone.  Sigh.

As a sidenote, today the Bills pulled off both a pretty exciting game AND a win, although I continue to doubt our excellence as a football team.  Much like last week, it was one of those games where both teams pretty clearly suck, but this time, with the help of a number of well-timed Jets penalties and five (maybe six?) picks, we scored a field goal to win in overtime.  I'll take it, with a side of Mom-made chocolate pie. 

Man this has been a wildly up and down week.  I am looking immensely forward to tipsy hide-and-seek/freeze tag/Harrison's family birthday dinner (Happy 24th H-bomb!!) tonight and weekend driving/homemade donuts/apple cider-spritzy-milkshake-things/Clarke's wedding camp-out tomorrow.  Some R+R is in order.

We had a positively wonderful Healthy Neighborhood meeting on Wednesday.  Folks from the hood--84 to be (close to) exact--got together to talk park planning.  PUSH is taking on a sort of development campaign to get the City of Buffalo to be serious about redeveloping the Mass Ave Park (which really has seen better days), starting with drawing up a plan that meets our neighbors' needs and bringing it to the Commissioner of Public Works.  Who knows what kind of push we're going to have to bring to this, but the excitement generated at the meeting was effing exhilarating.  Some personal highlights were the sheer brilliance of our facilitators in their breakout groups, my initial (mildly successful) foray into having folks who speak different languages feel comfortable at the meeting, and this one old white dude with a faded Bills jacket who got up and told us that he is as happy to live on the West Side now as he was when he first moved in 30 years ago.

Then yesterday I watched this man who couldn't speak English get turned away from buying juice and milk with a WIC check--meaning the food's probably for babies--because it was already signed.  The whole thing was nobody's fault, really, but the system's.  The system that aloows this poor dude to go home without his groceries because he relies on WIC checks and he can't quite comprehend how to use them and all we can say is that we don't speak Spanish, or no hablo espanol if we really try.  And meanwhile we pat ourselves on the back because we got 4 Spanish speakers into a room feeling comfortable enough to share their ideas about a fucking park.

This song keeps me rollin', for some reason:

Doesn't this last one look like some kind of ad for graffiti? 

Seriously, Buffalyfe is like this, all of the time:





I can't get enough.

Plus, I work at PUSH Buffalo, where we (read: Aaron) just microwaved a frozen cream pie to celebrate the last day of our beloved intern Leon:
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In other news, my brother fell off a cliff.  Running from the police after setting off fireworks on America's Birthday.  He's fine, nothing even broken, apparently has fucking sweet friends who formed a human chain to pull him out and take him to the emergency room before he bled to death.  And now he looks like he fought a bear.  NUTZ.

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Thanks, TNC.

My friends and partner-in-awesomeness...



...built this beauty in our backyard over at 153 Eaton: 



You make a campfire in the inside, let it burn to ashes, and then BAKE!, as the oven retains the heat.  Color me pumped as helllll for baking everything about this summer!

My sudden decision to spend Easter weekend at home was a solid one. 

My first time kinda teaching a workshop went damn well, especially considering(/because of?) how much we were both making up as we went along, and I daaaaaaaaaaaanced the early bird and the late night special and everything in between at the Movement and it was awesome.  The Buffalo men I know and love are some mo'fucking dancing queens, to say nothing of ma ladiez on the dance floor (although some ladiez were quite missed).   

Then I danced away Easter morning to the music in my head in "supervision" of incredible-earth-oven-building and that was awesome, too. 
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I tend to find B.Brown dull, but I am downright pissed about the 'tude in this spiel...

I don't mean to get all sophisticated on Buffalo's political leadership here, but this man does not get out much! Urban farming is IN like stirrup leggings in the 90s, but with far more (documented) staying power (thank god). 

I stopped down Wilson Street post-Broadway Market shoppin' and Linda Yax and I agree that the space is just about ideal for urban farming.  And I'm bout to be an urban studies grad, so, y'know, I know my shit...  :)

But for real, check out this pic from David Torke.  The space itself is HUGE, plus this part of Wilson is constructed weirdly, almost like it should be/have been an alley because on the right side are just backs of houses and an occasional garage door.  On the left side, almost the entire block is, of course, empty except for one house bookending on one side, and two on the other side (one of those appears vacant).  So unlike some places where I can see a valid argument for not disrupting density and the urban fabric and whatnot (although I'll add that few of Brown's beloved housing development projects seem to maintain neighborhood integrity either), this street was practically made to hold a farm.  Building new houses in that space, to face the backs of houses on parallel Fillmore, makes little sense.



Impromptu ride back to New York with Shives tomorrow! Life rox!

At the end of the day, when you go to an elite university, you go to an elite university.  Your Senior Ball is out of the reasonable price range of someone who just spent the last 4 years paying more annually than she can expect to be making over the next 4, but you're also invited to "an exclusive reception mingling with high-flying Columbia alumni" at the Columbia Club, which means you miiight just end up being able to pay off that ticket, and your loans, in no time at all.  Dress is business casual and you might want to bring copies of your resume.  Wink, wink.

Sudden fear about commitments and high expectations (quite) aside, I will never ever ever stop loving the sensory overload of a Buffalo week.  I ache all over from running around wildly (with arms extended!) trying to catch a frisbee, my mind is set back to confusion re: the Great Are-Spectator-Sports-Worthwhile? Debate, my hands beg to be mortaring stone foundations instead of typing and turning pages, and my heart is here, home, always. 

The Princess Bride, Hole in the Wall, parkour awe, and an entire container of dried mango passed Sunday night.  Inconceivable!

Tuesday night is for karaoke at the Essex, discovering that there are in fact many other words to Whoomp! (There It Is), and dancing with somebodies who love you.  And high fives all around.

The combination of a PUSH basketball game and the celebration of Kevin's birth makes for a grand ol' Wednesday.
  
Niagara Chocolates confusion on Thursday, along with some learning experiences: Board of Block Clubs meetings are the BOMB.COM and there are simply no shovels for sale at Target.  No fuzzy dice either.

Friday was fucking gorgeous, so we bought spray foam insulation, built a glass block window, flyered a few hundred houses, hung drywall, and palletted bricks.  A+ for productivity!
 


That afternoon I took to the corner with a small but fierce picketing crew to hassle Red-Ties (and semi-inadvertently, Leafs fans) with signs and shouts: "hey Chris Collins, you better act quick! the people in this county, we rely on WIC!!"  Then Kevin tried his first loganberry, fake boobs and suburban d-bags drove us from the Thirsty Buffalo, and it quickly became Man Night at the Essex.  Pretty grape!

But the real sensory overload could well have been just Saturday, oh glorious Saturday, when I floated on sunshine and rainbows across every corner of the city, from the Elmwood Village for expressing solidarity and leftover Globe sandwiches,
To True Bethel Baptist Church for a Muslim funeral (?) in honor of a dearly departed BLB,*
To 153 Eaton, of course,
To Father Conway Park for JY kicking ass at rugby and, happily, not breaking his face,
To Caz (my favorite) Park for balling/Fiber Arts/forced labor and frisbee with wonderful folks: "is that a predator or their dad?",
To 15th Street for roll-your-own-sushi-and-wash-the-damn-dishes and Umi love and birthday shots**
To North.

*Badass Longtime Buffalonian.  Also, for the record: "I am not a homosexual, but I love Brother Romeo."
**Birthday shot = lunging the new basketball from atop the bulkhead cellar door into the net, which was hard.  That's what she said, right, George?

Ready, set, go, April and then I am done with college.  Good god.

Sitting in Sweetness, writing a proposal for Squeaky Wheel to film our project as it "empowers our female neighbors," awesome ladiez knitting adjacent, PUSH members and one's fucking cute kid chatting behind me, wayyyy too much coffee in my tummy(/brain?) and I'm LYKE FREAKIN about life and starting it and expectations that can't be met.

Blaming it on the coffee, and getting back to work.  Plus now the kid's singing her ABCs ("H-I-guh-guh-LMNOP") into Sara's cell phone and it's all love.

And luckily, I still live with this girl, too:

So I was helping Sophia with her homework, and she just couldn't remember what her teacher said about explorer and native tiffs.  "Uh, I don't exactly know, kiddo,"  I said, while trying to think quickly on my feet.  Do I take the revisionist approach or is that not kosher for an 8-year-old?  (We'd already had an awkward talk earlier when she'd asked about my "Real Sex Ed NOW" button)  I would want my 8-year-old to know that Henry Hudson was a bit of an ass, but then again, I'm not even sure what specifically went down in the Hudson Valley.  So I diplomatically, I thought, responded "because the explorers were kind of rude to the natives" and continued on to talk about how communication was tough, and there was a general lack of understanding of differences, and so on.  She chimed in saying the natives wouldn't share their food (...?), wrote a sentence, and I relaxed.  

Looked down at her paper a while later: 
3. Because the explorers were kind of rude to the natives.

I have slept little more than a wink, but I am in Buffalo (!!!), reading Trotsky and drinking lotsa coffee and absolutely adoring Theda Skocpol's critique of elite bullshite:

Fuck my heart just overflows right now, and I had been ponderin' doing this and now it's happening.  In no particular (except AWESOME) order:
















I went to sleep at 5 am last night and awoke straight-up at 3:25pm.  This day has, as a result, been odd.  Not enough ice cream, too many backaches.  Read this and this and this.  Learned what a leadership PAC is. Wished Obams luck on the road because (Dems control everything and yet...) he's gonna need it.

You're on, America.

Hey, hey, put up my first blog post over on our Basics site!  Wheeeeeee, more blogging!  I am officially never doing homework again.



(Who's ready for fall in Buffalo?)

Reading Keight and thinking about truth-or-dare, I realized something pretty simple.  The thing that made this weekend the *~*~**Best Everrrrr**~* was that it was people-I-adore-intensive.  Just everywhere, all the time, was someone to hug or laugh with or drink with or eat with or talk to (sometimes all at once). Or surprise!  I'm wishing I were still in that word-intensive-but-not-so-fun-or-interesting phase of my livejournaling, so I could provide myself a recap for all time.  Gah, quel tres, tres, tres bon weekend!!! 

Saturday contained two events meetings of particular note.  In the morn, Meg and I hosted the first community meeting for our project, and it was great success!  Some ferocity, some trepidation, but definitely a whole lot of interest, even enthusiasm, and the friendliness we have now come to expect from our neighbors.  I'm still trying to figure out our role here, with the project itself feeling so finite, and my heart so tugged towards the West Side and PUSH (though it may need me less?). Constant pondering. 

PUSH member meeting later on, which was just wondrous.  Supercool format for introducing and getting feedback on the Five Year Plan, and my little group was comprised of neighborhood people (many new folks) so despite an overall demographic trend towards Canisius students (hmm) I was quite pleased/proud.  If I had to choose a single top moment, it was when Eric (oh how I've missed Eric) asked me to make copies like I was working and I consented like I was working and got upstairs to find Ray Jr. (and Umi!)...like I was working. Looooove:



OH! And as it turns out, googling some weekend keywords produces magnificent results!










"Micaela" - Tony Done's Hollywood Quintet

man, youtube comments never cease to amaze!

alright, lilbrowstalker.  point taken.