Last Friday, as Sue and I were out walking along the river with her dog Vesta, five student-types walked toward us. They were distinctly underdressed for the weather—temperature in the low teens with a fifteen-mile-an-hour wind. They were wearing shorts and shirts, although carrying warmer clothing. They walked through the snow, right down next to the river. Then the ones who had been wearing winter jackets took them off. The four men took off their shirts. The woman kept her short-sleeved tee-shirt on. They took off their shoes. And they stepped into the river.
The last man to sink down up to his neck yelled, “Why are we doing this?” No one answered his query, and he immersed himself with the others. At least one of them submerged entirely.
Sue was ready to walk on, but when we figured out the young people planned to go into the river there near the dam, I told her I had to stay to make sure they could get back out as easily as they got in, to make sure no one got carried away by the current and had to make a long, frigid walk back. You can’t have been a lifeguard for as many decades as I was without being concerned for the goofy kids’ safety and well-being.
No one ventured far enough from the bank to be grabbed by the current. We stayed until the first three young people stepped easily back up out of the water and started donning weather-appropriate clothing. All was well. They’d gone on an adventure together. The man who’d asked, “Why?” lingered with one other man. Sue and I walked on, in our warm, dry winter gear, and Vesta remained comfortable in her long, thick fur.
Kathy, my fellow student of French, came to class recently laden with baguettes. She’d made them that morning. They were still warm from the oven. She’d taken a baguette-baking class from Zingerman’s Bakehouse a couple weeks earlier, and these four loaves were her fourth batch since. She also brought along two kinds of jam she’d made herself from berries growing in her yard, and dainty spoons to use with them. Some fancy butter, and knives with which to spread it. Little plates and napkins. Such a spread. And such good bread.
Kathy had wanted to try something new, so she’d signed up for the Zingerman’s class. We are all delighted she did, as is her husband, who’d protested when she left the house with all four of the loaves she’d just baked. She’d assured him that he would get some bread, and he did. The person most chuffed about Kathy’s growing mastery of a new skill, however, is Kathy herself. It’s fun to stretch yourself.
It’s Restaurant Week in Ann Arbor, when participating restaurants offer prix fixe, multi-course meals in addition to their usual menus. Restaurant Week celebrates local food and encourages diners to try places they haven’t gone before or in a long time, as well as to try something new at familiar eateries. Our neighbors Anne and Todd have lunched at four different venues so far this week and are considering trying a fifth. We joined them today at Miss Kim’s, a Korean restaurant “with a modern flair,” and part of the Zingerman’s empire.
All four of us ordered from the special Restaurant Week menu, and we enjoyed our lunches. Even Todd, who daringly chose broccolini with caramel fish sauce as his first course. The fish in question was anchovy, but neither Todd nor the two of us who tried a nibble of the broccolini could detect any fish taste, which was okay with the three of us. We all ate food we hadn’t eaten before, and we enjoyed the time spent with our neighbors.
Yesterday, my friends Cindy and Allison and I drove to Chelsea to see an art exhibit. It featured fiber art—mostly weavings–by Millie Danielson, a working artist who happens to be a hundred years old. We marveled at her skill, ingenuity, methods, materials, creativity and, in at least one instance, sense of humor. Cindy and Allie and I haven’t managed to go out together just for fun before. We had a lovely time and, as we drove through Dexter on the way home, realized we felt like we’d been away, like we’d taken a miniature out-of-town vacation.
Little adventures, whether learning something new, indulging in new food, leaving town for a couple hours with friends, or something truly memorable such as those nutty students’ dunk in the river, keep life interesting. They’re just what we need to spice up February.
10 February 2023