Time to hit the open road and find some western birds
The top line results of my birding trip: 42 new birds, bringing my 2018 total to 399 species . . . meaning that unless I saw a burrowing owl on my way to the ABQ “Sunport” (I did not), bird number 400 would be in Brooklyn.
Which was as it should be.
I’ll have more to say about New Mexico birding, but there’s more I need to say about New Mexico first. Why do I love that state so much? There are the birds, of course, but also the light – blinding at midday, painting the landscape with color and shadow morning and evening, dazzling always. There’s the painful, complicated history as New Mexico passed from one empire to another, a history that includes conquest, the Inquisition, hidden Jews, indigenous revolts, revolutions, invading Texans, shifting borders, mushroom clouds. There’s the fascinating, syncretic culture this history created. There are the chiles.
And there’s the general weirdness of the place, always a plus in my book. Continue reading
Ah, the appeal of round numbers! Ah, the lure of arbitrary goals! Ah, the joy of obsessive pursuits!
I haven’t prattled on about birding on this blog of late, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t continued to devise ornithological challenges for myself. Two years ago, I documented my quest to see 200 species in New York City . . . something that turned out to be ridiculously easy for anyone with a pair of binoculars, a Metrocard, and (most important) time on her hands. So I upped the goal to 200 birds just in Brooklyn, and managed that as well. (The final tally: 249 species in NYC, 225 in Brooklyn.) Continue reading
You have, of course, read the “I Am Part of the Resistance Inside the Trump Administration” Op Ed in the New York Times. The writer assures us s/he is working diligently to protect us all from a volatile and incompetent administration . . . even as they work just as diligently to advance that administration’s policy priorities.
In order to continue that good work, they must of course remain anonymous.
Last night, Eric and I went to Barbès in Park Slope. (This may strike you as a non sequitur, but bear with me.) Continue reading
Yes, but will it be open by the first Sunday in November?
It’s September! Were I running the 2018 NYC Marathon, this would be my monster month: I’d be piling on the miles, trying to live right, and generally being an extremely boring person. But just because I’ve retired from marathoning doesn’t mean I’m not training. Now, though, my training is focused on being the best possible spectator (and possibly coaching others toward their own personal spectating bests).
To that end, I set out on this steamy Labor Day morning to run a (small) portion of the marathon course. I’ll be doing a lot more of that over the next month and a half, aiming to publish an all-new course guide in the second half of October. In the meantime, here are some teaser pictures from today’s training run.
What, no beetroot?!?
Sacks of flour and poppy seeds (not pictured) leave me hopeful that this in-the-works-for-over-a-year Shelsky’s outpost will in fact be opening soon.
The street artist who pastes cryptic sayings on walls around the city is back at it. And how better to dip my toe back into the world of blogging than to post these two additions to this blog’s coverage of his/her work? (You can see previous examples here and here.)
The photo at the top of this post is from the “build it green” re-use center on 9th St between Second Av and the Gowanus Canal. The one below is from the exterior of the defunct Morbid Anatomy Museum at Third Av and 7th St.
And yes – the fact that I’m once again posting snapshots of things seen on the run around Brooklyn means I’m, well, back to running around Brooklyn. It’s been a long and tedious recovery from my elbow fracture, but I now have more-or-less full use of both arms, which means: more running! more birding! more two-fisted eating!
And more blogging, too.
(In the meantime – if you see more examples of these posters, please: pass ’em along.)
Two days after running the Brooklyn Half, I was on my way to Jamaica Bay to look at migrating shorebirds when I tripped and fell on an uneven patch of sidewalk in Broad Channel, Queens, and shattered my left elbow. It was my second fracture in 12 months.
At the beginning of the year, I had a plan. It had been 10 years since my breast cancer diagnosis. Why not use this blog to look back, while also celebrating survival? Yes, it was tough, I’d acknowledge, but it was doable, even funny at times, and look at me now: running half marathons, tromping through salt marshes in search of new birds, seeking out the best Uzbek food in South Brooklyn?
If that concept veered perilously close to what my sister survivor and political-intellectual heroine Barbara Ehrenreich has called “bright-siding,” well, I’d rely on self-deprecating humor and relentless honesty to keep it real.
Instead, I find myself in direct confrontation with breast cancer’s lasting impact on my body and mind. In particular, I’ve been thinking a lot about the shame that accompanies physical frailty.
Defending my home turf (photo credit: Luke Redmond)
Let’s begin by contemplating the marketing genius who connected this race, which routinely sells out in less than an hour, to its new title sponsor, Banco Popular. Was it the result of a caffeine, doughnut and Gatorade-fueled spitballing session in a New York Road Runners conference room? Did someone at Banco Popular, possibly a runner themselves, come up with the idea? Or was it – as my friend Michael, who has some tenuous family connection to the world of marketing consultants, tells me is most likely – the handiwork of a professional branding matchmaker?
However it happened, this popular race is now officially Popular. Continue reading