We were supposed to go see the Mountain Goats this weekend, but then the concert we had planned to attend was canceled, and the only other one in the area was sold out. So we consoled ourselves with a trip to IKEA. Funny thing about that place--it's fun to walk through the showrooms, and discover little displays of inexpensive and well-designed items tucked in the corners. I admire their concern for the environment, and the idea of democratizing good design. But I always feel a little sad when I walk out of there. Picking out a lamp and seeing five of the same in the check-out line; seeing strangers sit on the same couch we chose a few months ago, the model I now consider "ours"; everyone eating identical bowls of macaroni and cheese at the cafe--it makes me feel so anonymous. It's hard to hold onto any illusions of uniqueness in there. Plus, I always spend more than I intend to. After three hours of buying stuff in a big windowless box, I feel soul-nauseated. I need to go breathe fresh air and feel like an autonomous non-consumer for a while.
Luckily, we were also watching Stephen's family's dog this weekend, so we spent a lot of Saturday and Sunday walking in the woods. We met some goats on a farm, passed through a horse field, visited an old, old cemetery (I love looking at the slate tombstones), and saw farmers harvesting grapes in a vineyard. I love going for walks in the fall. Summer and autumn seem like country times to me, seasons best enjoyed in a farmhouse surrounded by fields and forest. In the winter and early spring, I like to be huddled in the city, sitting by a radiator and watching the snow fall under the streetlights outside. Otherwise I have a tendency to feel lonely on those long, dark nights. But when it's warm out, there's nothing like being out in nature. I'm trying to get out as much as possible now, before it gets too cold.
