Hot Day, Hotter Tar

...with sweaty men caught in between.

Meet Mark, driver of the roller machine that smooths the newly

 laid asphalt being installed at the intersection of Crawfordsville Road

and Interstate-74. It was about 9 in the morning and temperatures

were already high, reaching 100 degrees in the shade by

afternoon. He wasn't being lazy, but awaiting his turn in the process

 of making certain the pavement would be smooth and

would adhere to the roadbed bases installed earlier. 

The above shot is of the tarry adhesive that helps the asphalt

stay in place. When freshly laid, the heated asphalt is over

200 degrees. I was told that if I walked on it, it could melt the

soles of my sneakers. I chose to not challenge the

statement. The roller would be slowly driven over the

newly laid material, further compacting it and driving it

into the roadbed. 

The stretch of road above is ready to be paved by

the equipment below. Consisting of two separate sections,

the newly-made asphalt is put into the rear section, then picked

up by a conveyor belt to be pulled into the front machine.

The asphalt is then laid at a pre-determined depth on the 

roadbed, allowed to cool a bit, when it's then rolled

into the adhesive and foundation by Mark

and his machine.

A Hot Topic

The temperature reached 105 degrees today.

It's been in the 90's all week and we are barely into

our summer. It's expected to be the same tomorrow.

Like much of the rest of the country, our area

is enduring drought conditions: I'm thinking that anyone

who plants flowers should consider using cacti

next year.

I try to get to the pool right as it opens. That usually

allows me to have an hour during which

I can swim leisurely laps and do water aerobics

exercises before the kids show up.

The kids scare me. By far, most of them,

whatever age they happen to be, do not 

know how to swim. If you ask, some will always

protest that they do know how, but watching 

them for just a few minutes puts the lie

to their assertions.

The little girl above was accompanied by her mom,

while the other little kids were, supposedly, supervised

by someone who is at least 16 years old. In reality,

many of the kids have been sent to the pool by parents

who seem to expect the lifeguard to act as baby sitter

and, if necessary, perform miracles. 

A Sunny Day

The flowers above made a very sunny display at 

the corner of one Speedway yard. Their number was

so large they served as a hedge and so bright 

they seemed to sing loud enough for

 the entire neighborhood to hear.

The plants below, while much fewer in number,

are anything but innocuous, their shape

and color lending a bawdy air 

to an otherwise plain yard.

A Quiet Place

On my first visit to the IMA's 100 Acres: The Virginia B Fairbanks

Art and Nature Park, I found its Visitors' Pavilion set among the trees, 

a cool place to take a break from the heat and humidity 

of the day. Though surrounded by the woods, 

the Pavilion is not far from the Michigan Road

entrance to the Museum grounds.

The structure, known officially as the Ruth Lilly Visitors' Pavilion, 

was designed by Marlon Blackwell of Fayetteville, Arkansas,

following practices for environmental sensitivity and conservation, 

making it an LEED certified building.  

Built in a flood plain, the structure was designed to allow

for the occasional free flow of water around and 

beneath its base.

Textured Tuesday: Composition in Gray and White

I wish I had a better picture of this, but it's one of

 those places where I might need back-up

to get the perfectly balanced shot I want to take.

I took this one from inside the bus while we

were waiting for the traffic light to change.

As it is, I love the peeling paint of the squares,

offset and balanced by the canted, inky

shade of gray on the right.

A Compliment of Contrast

I liked the way these flowers, with their strong, 

sturdy stems stretched towards the sun 

against the background of the more delicate green. 

Bus Stop Scenes

While waiting for the bus Friday morning, I took a few pictures 

of the activity around the Federal Court House. Above

one of the maintenance men hoses down the steps on the 

south west entrance to the building, while below bus drivers

and passengers alike sought relief from the sun in the shade of

one of the maple trees on the lawn.

Appointment

After an appointment this morning at University Hospital,

I stopped in at the book store at the IUPUI Student Center,

where I saw this grouping of happy orange chairs.

Here is a view from the hospital's third floor,

looking east towards the center of downtown Indianapolis,

about a mile away. Taken at about 9 a.m., the temperature was

already in the 80s. I spent the rest of my time outdoors

walking from one shaded area to the next.

When You Come to a Fork in the Road ...

... TAKE IT!
                                         - Yogi Berra

My mission on Wednesday was to explore

the back half of the 100-Acres Park lake. While the front part is

edged by the Meadow and most of the installations, the back

has been left as a trail, marked by pins for Mary Miss' installation,

FLOW: Can You See the River? and a number of Jeppe Hein's

yellow benches, this part of the path merely has tree branches

trimmed to keep the path open. 

I did happen to meet A. Bitterman, who was working to

complete the kiosk for, Indigenous, the Indy Island project for 2012.

I intend to return, hopefully for dinner and a movie and

the opportunity to wear the giant beaver suit.

"Geometry of Light"

When I walked through the main entrance of the 

Indianapolis Museum of Art this afternoon, I was greeted by 

Geometry of Light, a sculpture by Alyson Shotz made up 

of hand-cut plastic Fresnel lenses, silvered glass beads and stainless 

steel wire. The lenses,of varying diameters, were strung 

along the wires with the silver beads serving both as spacers 

and reflective surfaces, spanning the space from the windows 

up into the upper floors of the entrance.

I stood among the strands, marveling at their simplicity;

I could have made them myself, but I didn't because my mind 

had never before made a connection that told me a simple

piece of plastic could be strung with its brothers and some beads

to make something beautiful. When I blew on one of the disks,

the entire strand bobbed a bit, shimmering in the light.

Seen from above, the disks resembled a stopped-motion

shot of water as it spurts from a hose, bright, clear and cool.

Once again, I spent an entire afternoon wandering the IMA,

visiting new exhibits and old, walking around the lake

of the 100-Acre Park. Admission is FREE, dammit!

I couldn't imagine a better way to spend 

a day without spending money 

Robert Motherwell in Speedway

There are a lot of different artists represented in Speedway. 

I don't really have to look very far for them since they often jump

out at me as I'm walking around the town, camera in hand.

View No. 1, 1958. Oil on Canvas

I've seen some of Motherwell's work that looks

more like the photo I took, but can't locate it.

Here is another one from a gallery that

represents his work, Bernard Jacobson Gallery

of New York and London.

Textured Tuesday ... Not

Okay, I promised I'd try dried ramen noodles. I did. 

I've now  been there, returned, and do not plan to go back.

First off, I bought this package at Walmart

for the grand sum of 28 cents. People always say

they shop at that place because they save 

so much money. I can buy a similar product at my

neighborhood Kroger for 25 cents, or 5 packages for $1.

This package was, as you can see "shrimp flavor."

I followed the instructions which said to bring 2 cups of 

water to the boil then drop in noodles and cook,

stirring occasionally, for 3 minutes. Then turn off the heat,

stir in contents of the flavoring packet, AKA

"shrimp flavor," and allow to set for 1 minute.

The dried noodles before cooking resembled a section 

of badly knit Shetland sweater, afterwards they looked like 

sections of unwoven chain link fencing (I forgot to take 

their "after" picture) in chicken broth. They tasted 

like chicken noodle soup, too, albeit the dried Lipton Soups 

version of chicken noodle soup I knew from childhood.

The contents of the package was intended to produce 

2 one-cup servings. I measured out 1 cup then put 

the remainder into the garbage. The taste 

was inoffensive and tasted nothing at all like shrimp. 

It was very filling, so I can completely understand 

why so many people on limited incomes eat the 

ramen noodles; they are cheap and filling, but not 

very nutritional. The noodles are made from 

"enriched wheat flour" with not a trace of rice. 

Of the soup base ingredients, the first 

one listed was salt, then 16 ingredients later 

there appeared "lobster and shrimp flavors."

One cup of noodles and broth have 190 calories,

less than 1 gram of fiber, and 790 mg of salt 

(approximately 1/3 of one's daily allotment.)

Dressed for Work

All last week, street crews had been working in Speedway to pour 

concrete and lay brick for new sidewalks and curbing.

Drivers carefully made their way through the construction zones

in efforts to avoid the human traffic cones working

all along the way. This morning, I went for a long walk,

during which I happened to look up to see fairly new cones,

clad in reflective tape, marking work in progress 

at the corner of 16th Street and Lynhurst drive.

Of course, I took a couple pictures.

Paired with the grey of the grooved concrete

and the white stripes, how could I resist

their handsome, orange presence?

Tiffany in Speedway

Sometimes, when I want to see jewels designed by Charles Lewis Tiffany 

or stained glass by his son, Louis Comfort Tiffany,

all I have to do is stand beneath a Japanese Maple in the spring.

There are several of these trees dotting the yards of Speedway and,

whenever I find one, I can't help but take several minutes

to look at the marvelous colors produced by the tree

as the sun shines through its beautiful leaves.

Bright Red and Fifty Shades of Gray

You know, when erotica is available as a mass market paperback,

displayed on the shelves of my neighborhood grocer, we've

reached some sort of watershed in this country.

Whether it's a continuing slide into a nadir of literary standards

or an opening of tolerance of expression, I can't say.

Years ago, I always felt a bit embarrassed when I 

entered a local used book store. One entire wall was covered

by romance novels with pale pink spines. Since women generally 

prefer to visualize their erotica rather than actually see it, those

books were/are the woman's equivalent of 

men's pornographic videos.

However, one man I knew read the books for amusement

(he said). Secretly, though, he imagined himself in the role 

of rescuing hero, the prince whose "sword of 

hardened steel" left his lady in a dazed swoon,

grateful for his attentions.

I wonder how many of those books are actually written by men?

Strawberry Festival

Today, under tents in front of Christ Church Cathedral,

people gathered for the 47th Annual Strawberry Festival. Sponsored

by the church's Women's Guild, the Festival serves homemade

shortcakes topped with ice cream, strawberries and whipped cream.

This year, organizers expected to serve 6 tons of

strawberries and 18,000 shortcakes.

On the north side of Monument Circle, people gathered to enjoy their treats

on a pleasant sunny day. Searching for shade in the shadow of

Victory's pedestal, people sat on the Monument's steps as they were

entertained by various local musical groups.

Shown here are members of the Indiana Banjo Society,

who picked their way through a number of Dixieland

and patriotic standards. 

Here mom and her daughter enjoy their treats while listening

to the Shortridge High School Jazz Band.

And in the shadow of the surrounding trees, 

a group of women enjoys their lunch break.

Of course, since strawberries are my favorite food,

serving me as a breakfast staple when they are in season,

I could not let the occasion pass without

listening to Nina Simone singing "I loves You Porgy."

They're so soft and fine,

And they're just off the vine ... Strawberries.

Japanese Queasene?

I visited two neighborhood grocers this morning 

to get pictures of their offerings of ramen noodles.

I've known of them since the early 80's, when they seemed

to become a staple in the larder of college students.

The top photo is from a store which has a wider range

of food of all kinds, good and bad. Frankly,

its clientele is probably more international 

and poorer than at the other store.

On a different, but related matter, I recently bumped into

a man with a selection of items from the sushi kiosk.

I'd thought I was the only one buying the stuff, but he 

pronounced the kiosk's offerings as "the best."

I did ask the sushi makers about the squid and both men,

who could speak very little "hoosier,"

told me they do not eat the squid.

Consequently, I will leave the little brown

squiggleys alone, too.

Little Flowers

Whoever designed these little flowers must have had me in mind

when they decided the world needed these perfect little

florets, ranging in color from yellow to red and paired with

leaves in a lovely complimentary green.

However, I do not have the perfect little camera 

that allows me to control absolutely the depth

of field that would show all the blooms

in sharp focus.

Dammit, I just love the colors!

Little Bugger

After a brief rain shower, Mama took Junior out for dinner.

Junior squawked frequently, fully expecting Mama to feed 

 him a bug she'd just plucked from the lawn. 

Ignoring his protests, Mama went on her way, 

hopping about the lawn, her baby following, 

not realizing he was supposed to rustle up his own bugs.

The little ritual of cutting the adolescent's apron strings 

seems to be the same, it's just a matter of when

the kid begins to snag his own bugs.

Ramen crickets every day, anyone?

Beloved Anachronism

I don't know the word for this building, but I don't think 

anachronism is correct. I just find it so unique, so beautiful and 

idiosyncratic that there must be a special word for it.

The Murat Shrine Temple of Indianapolis was started in 1909 

after land at the corner of Michigan and New Jersey Streets 

was purchased for $37,000. The architect was told the design of the 

temple was to take the form of a mosque. 

The building took just under a year to complete and was 

dedicated in March, 1910. The Schubert Organization of New York 

leased the new theatre and, beginning in February, 1910, 

the Shriners of Indianapolis were regularly treated to

to shows from the Broadway stages, including the Ziegfeld Follies.

The new theater could seat 1,950 people and remains, 

to this day a beloved and respected venue for the top acts

in show business, many of whom especially

admire the theater's acoustics. 

This photo shows the back of the Murat Theater, 

which has been painted to resemble the Temple's

main entrance on New Jersey Street. However, there

is a covered entry-way, complete with lighted marque

promoting the current acts appearing at the theater.

Trying to Not Paint the Sign

When new signs were installed at one of the stores at 

the Speedway Shopping Center, they were put up before

painters could remove cover the accumulated stains from

the old signage. Consequently, the painters had to take the time to

wrap and tape the newly installed work to avoid dripping

paint on the blue kitty, red puppy and letters.

How many additional dollars were spent because 

someone could not wait one day for the facade 

of the building to be painted?

The man in the chair is the supervisor of the 

younger man doing the work. While the controls for the 

cherry-picker lift are with the younger man, the work can 

only be performed by one of them due to the

cramped quarters in the basket.