I woke up early, as per usual, and spent my morning reading for pleasure until I remembered that the farmer’s market was running, and although I know I’m supposed to be in it for the produce–which I am–but what got me out of bed were the mini donuts. I hopped on the bike and flew down the hill, got my mini bag of donuts, and did a tour of the place, picking up a little of this and a little of that. Continue reading
Today’s bike ride took me over to Hampden for my favorite brunch and some work in my workbook and then down to the Inner Harbor to check out the art show. I did a quick zip around the booths and then decided to hit up the Public Works Museum, because I love me some public works–sewer systems, water treatment, streetlights and stoplights, all of it. Continue reading
I woke up this morning feeling like I’d been hit by a truck, or maybe thrown from my bike due to a pothole. Ugh. I am sore. But I want to explore Baltimore by bike, and I have no self-control, so after a leisurely brunch in Charles Village, I slowly pedaled my way down to the Inner Harbor where I decided to go ahead and join the Aquarium, envisioning a future where sometimes I ride my bike downtown and check out the jellyfish. I locked up to a rack and headed inside. The place was absolutely packed, and I was feeling a little scrambled-egg in the head, so I just tripped around, wondering why they have to make the jellyfish room feel like a gay dance club–is that what it takes to lure the Kids Today? After a silent promise to never return there on a Sunday afternoon, I pedaled over to the American Visionary Arts Museum to redeem my fast-expiring interwebz coupon. Other than the room of art inspired by bathroom humor, the place was amazing, especially the room filled with wind-up machines–come to town and we’ll go. I had a bowl of fruit and a mimosa in the restaurant before heading up Federal Hill for a view of the harbor. I snapped this picture before reading up; apparently, this is a massive earthwork built by Union soldiers after Benjamin Butler secured Baltimore for the North. In New Orleans, Benjamin Butler represents all the monarchical aspirations of the Yankees, but, as Ranger Davon Williams from Fort McHenry told me when I inquired about their baffling movie, every tells stories in their own way. I pedaled slowly uphill back to K. and N.’s, looking forward to putting some ice on some things and eating the blackberry cobbler they report is in the oven. They are the hosts with the most, for sure. I’m glad I just got back on the bike today.