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At the intersection of Butler and 52nd in Lawrenceville, there are flowers painted on the utility poles. I can't find any indication of why this was done, except that it looks great. The flowers themselves are great, but also I can't help but like the spot on the poles where the flowers end and the pole's natural rust/paint pattern resumes.
Click on the images for larger versions.
We're in a minivan traveling tiny mountain roads in France, and we're late. I see a sign ahead that says something like "3 Cassis." What's a cassis? Nobody in the car knows. We continue to speed along. Several seconds pass. Then the road abruptly drops several feet. Me, my brother, my fiancee, our minivan, all our luggage, and the bikes in the rack on the back of the minivan are now flying and falling. I have a moment to be thankful that my seat belt is keeping me somewhere in the vicinity of my seat. We land, very hard, still going very fast. We have enough time to glance at each other incredulously before the road drops away again. By the third cassis, we've slowed down enough that the minivan stays on the ground. I don't think I'll ever forget that "cassis" is a noun meaning something like "sudden, large drop."
Mad props are due to Renault for their Espace minivan, which came through the cassis situation with no damage. It's not every car that can survive a jump while it's fully loaded. Plus, through all of this mountain driving it got about 30 mpg.
The Festival d'Avignon is going on right now through July 27. It's a theater festival, and there are literally hundreds of plays being put up all over town. Even in the Palace of the Popes. (IANAC*, but why did the Pope need a Palace? With both small and large treasure rooms?)
Also, from a person who shall remain nameless, on the Tour de France: "If you think riding in the tour is hard, try watching it!"
* IANAC - I am not a Catholic.
There's a pretty good neighborhood bar in Pittsburgh called the Squirrel Hill Cafe that everyone calls "The Squirrel Cage" or just "The Cage." And I just saw this blog, Squeaks from the Squirrel Cage, which I was hoping would be a chronicle of one person's experiences at the Cage, but turns out to be about some guy from D.C. who works in a cubicle.