I was parked on Butler Street in Lawrenceville.
My phone in hand.
A truck pulled up to the red light alongside my car -and stopped. I felt a presence. Looked up and out the driver’s window.
Oh, hello there!
Light turned green. The chef appeared. The truck pulled away into the flow of traffic.
These past few days driving around the city I’ve seen a lot of freight trains. I pulled over to the curb in the Strip District by the junkyard to catch the Wheeling Lake Erie cars overhead. And while visiting at my friend’s house I love to watch the tugboats push the barges on the Ohio River. The tanker truck was in front of me on the RDFleming Bridge while at a red light. Lots of demolition on the hillside there, too. Right now, as I write this post just before bed, I can hear the train whistle repeat itself loudly in the night.
Last week in Columbus, I sat in the passenger seat with Laura at the wheel. Good thing. Brought that trusty phone up to my eye and I can’t really add him to my People at Work series
but perhaps Animals at Work in the city?
Oh hello there!
Drove over the 16th Street Bridge Saturday evening, as I returned to the city from Ohio.
As I sat at the red light at the end of the bridge I saw this line. That’s a lot of people in line, I thought.
Camera was right there on the passenger seat and the light was red.
I found out why they’re all waiting in line.
Figured it was a restaurant not a concert as the music venue is on the opposite side of the street.
Gaucho Parilla Argentina. a Wood-Fired Grill. 1601 Penn Avenue.
Not sure when they opened but seems everyone else already knew!
P.s. August 27, 2015 An article about The restaurant in the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette today Gaucho
At least I think it’s Ken. Without clothes. Not sure of the message or meaning.
I’ve see plenty of stuffed plush on garbage truck fronts, especially in New York City.
Maybe I should rethink this post and title it Wordless Wednesday.
I love how some bloggers are so consistent- Six Word Saturday, Silent Sunday, Wordless Wednesday, TBT and the dependable Weekly Photo Challenge on Friday and so on.
But sometimes when I’m stopped at a red light I see something I can photograph in a blink. No rhyme or reason. It is just there.
You can add the caption
So what to do on a snowy Sunday afternoon?
Shovel shovel shovel, scrape the concrete with a metal edge.
Make a path.
Sweep clean, if possible. Repeat. Salt a bit.
Listen to the radio for a two hour delay. Hear an interview with a Canadian Astronaut.
Plan to leave early enough so you can wend your way to work, precariously.
Wool socks, a shawl, tea, an afghan, a book turns into a Sunday afternoon nap. Knit a bit.
Heat leftover chili with beans. Write out a birthday card, find a stamp.
Hear from dear friends in Florida, worried your pipes are frozen, or you’re driving on I-70 from Ohio. They saw it on TV. Polar vortex and all.
Steve feeds the feral cats. Their coats so thick.
No snowplows clear my street yet. My friend saw a squall. I just looked out my window before bed. Wondering what morning surprise I’ll find.
Intersection in Bloomfield at a red light
Can’t stop the snow. The wind. Or the mercury dropping to zero and way below.
Distract oneself from the fact that it’s winter and
watch Canadian Astronaut Chris Hadfield sing David Bowie on the International Space Station
like 20 million other people have watched and listened
and wait for Spring.