Movements.
Jan. 19th, 2017 09:42 pmYesterday, my brother and I went to the Nick and Toni's clearance sale, which was open to the public if not designed with it in mind - almost everything was put into lots for large-scale bidding, and even singular items were built to a restaurant's scale, like the pizza oven. Yes, they were selling the brick pizza oven. They were selling everything. Not even the chairs were sold as individual objects. By the time we got there, even the kitchen had been cleared out, and the walk-in freezer had been scrubbed spotless.
Then I realized we were in the subterranean levels, and we should absolutely open that random door and walk down that empty corridor. So we did. And it was - more of the restaurant. Mostly it was an object lesson in stacking objects in a dense city, because we'd gone down to the basement level of the building, walked through the kitchen and down what was essentially a windowless concrete hallway, and arrived at another storage area. Modular wire shelving, staff lockers, the door to the boiler room, all stuff that could be kept together in one specific area in a place like Pittsburgh. You might need a basement, but not a hallway that took you underneath the clothing store next door. So that was pretty neat to see. I'd promised my brother a peek into restaurant-scale operations, and even if we didn't get our hands on any cutting boards, we got something out of it anyway.
We walked back down the hallway and took the door up from the basement to the street without going back inside the main body of the restaurant. I suggested we go back in, for the amusement value, but we decided to go to Trader Joe's instead.
Today I confirmed the theory that I'm less tired when I get home if I walk about a mile through Riverside Park than just coming straight back to my apartment after work. It's less of a struggle to get my thoughts together when I sit down to write anything.
Tomorrow I'm baking challah. On Saturday, I'm going to the greenmarket to do some grocery shopping. On Sunday, I'm going to clean out pigeon cages. And it's still and always you and me against the world.
Then I realized we were in the subterranean levels, and we should absolutely open that random door and walk down that empty corridor. So we did. And it was - more of the restaurant. Mostly it was an object lesson in stacking objects in a dense city, because we'd gone down to the basement level of the building, walked through the kitchen and down what was essentially a windowless concrete hallway, and arrived at another storage area. Modular wire shelving, staff lockers, the door to the boiler room, all stuff that could be kept together in one specific area in a place like Pittsburgh. You might need a basement, but not a hallway that took you underneath the clothing store next door. So that was pretty neat to see. I'd promised my brother a peek into restaurant-scale operations, and even if we didn't get our hands on any cutting boards, we got something out of it anyway.
We walked back down the hallway and took the door up from the basement to the street without going back inside the main body of the restaurant. I suggested we go back in, for the amusement value, but we decided to go to Trader Joe's instead.
Today I confirmed the theory that I'm less tired when I get home if I walk about a mile through Riverside Park than just coming straight back to my apartment after work. It's less of a struggle to get my thoughts together when I sit down to write anything.
Tomorrow I'm baking challah. On Saturday, I'm going to the greenmarket to do some grocery shopping. On Sunday, I'm going to clean out pigeon cages. And it's still and always you and me against the world.
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