A Sunday in Solitude

I drove out to Locust Valley today to give my 91-year-old grandmother another Facebook/Internet lesson. After our visit, I headed over to St. Josephat's monastery—the former John Aldred estate—where I grew up (I lived in a gatehouse on the estate grounds until I was 14, for those not in the know from all of my previous boastful posts). I brought along my new Nikon camera and my cool new Tamron 70-300mm zoom lens and went to town.

I think I did OK for my first time out with a real DSLR—embarrassing considering I've been interviewing photographers for 20-plus years, but I've been busy!  

One thing I've learned from all of the talented photogs I've talked to over the years is that it's important that a photo (or a series of photos) tells a story. What struck me most during this particular monastery visit is how, because the Ukrainian monks don't have the funds for proper upkeep, the estate has fallen into a state of disrepair and disarray. The grass is overgrown; buildings are abandoned; trees lie where they've fallen, knocked down by lightning or nor'easters or felled by rot. I felt overcome with melancholy and sadness strolling on the grounds this time around, knowing that this lovely place where I grew up will probably never return to its former State of Sublime. 

But even in decay, there's beauty, so enjoy—photo tips/comments welcome. Cool links here and here for more info/pics of the estate.

Like the Hotel California: You can check into Peacock Lane, but you can never leave.

Sneaking a peek at the long-abandoned cook's cottage.

Esssssss-curve.

I swear I barely touched the levels in post-processing. The greens were very green.

Outside the library.

I actually desaturated everything in this photo a bit because the greenery was so green that it distracted from the colors of the monument.

Just hangin' with mah growler.

Not great colors here, so went B&W.

Ye olde sundial, catchin' some rays.

Entrance to garden designed by Olmsted Brothers.

I call this felled tree the "Iron Throne."

R2-D2 gazebo, still standing.

Peek-a-boo.

The "Graffiti Tree"—there's even vandalism at monasteries.

I liked the pattern on this tree.

Leading up to the main house.

Beware, all ye who enter.

My old crib.

Overlooking the Sound down the road, with the four remaining columns of the Meudon estate in the midground.

All that's left of the Meudon ruins.

Tweets and treats at @jenngidman. 

Ronald T. Dump and the Horrible, No Good, Very Bad, Loser Day

Frankly, I got zero shut-eye last night because I went to sleep with Univision blaring from my iPhone, and I stumbled out of bed like those horrendous idiot kids who always have very low energy. I tripped over the big, fat, beautiful Lego wall I had built in front of my bedroom door, and by mistake I dropped into the toilet the small $5,000 advance on my allowance my dad had given me and it was very unfair and I could tell it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad, loser day.

At breakfast, Benny found a DIY pyramid in his Kellogg's Ancient Grains breakfast cereal box and Carly found a 3D printer in her Farina breakfast cereal box, but in my breakfast cereal box all I found was disgusting breakfast cereal that only fat pigs and slobs would eat and I realized: I am not winning.

I think I’ll move to China. 

In the limo pool to school, Ernie Panders' driver Javier, who actually is a nice guy when he's not raping the phenomenal women in Kew Gardens, let Ernie ride shotgun so he could fix his hair in the passenger-side mirror. What a mess!

Fred Tush and Ike Takeaknee got seats by the window. I said I was being scrunched in the middle. I said I was being smushed. I said: If I don't get a seat by the window, I'm going to be carsick and create a database of you morons and make you wear huge badges so everyone knows you're the worst people in America to share a limo pool with. No one even answered.

I could tell it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad, loser day.

At school, Mrs. Marlvankia liked Ann Paul’s picture of a crowded immigrant rescue boat better than my picture of a very strong castle with a moat around it. I complained that we were speaking too much Spanish in Spanish class, and that I wasn't going to play Capture the Refugee Flag anymore unless they made gym class a little shorter, but no one paid attention. My chorus teacher, who is not a smart person at all, said I sang the lyrics to "Make America the Beautiful Great Again" wrong. I could tell it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad, loser day.

I could tell because nasty Ned Ooze told me on the lunch line that I wasn't his best friend anymore. He said that Dick Manscrotum was his best friend and Martin Everyonespalley was his next best friend and that I was only his third best friend, even though every poll I've seen has me beating those other two blowhards big time. I got mad and told Ned he wasn't even born in 10022, he was born in Long Island City, and that I wasn't going to sit with him until he treated me properly, and then I went to go sit with some other kids, who, quite honestly, are also total disasters.

One of those kids had two Christie Cremes in his lunch bag, while another had an amazing steak. Guess whose mother gave her kid Oreos, even though I said I would never eat Oreos again? It didn't matter, though, because I lost my appetite after seeing Ron Basic eat his Sicilian slice in a totally disgusting fashion. It was definitely turning into a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad, loser day.

At recess, I saw Mallory Hinton and all the girls celebrating bigly in the sandbox because they had just come back from the bathroom, and I said to Benny, "They shouldn't be allowed back in the sandbox until we can figure out what the hell is going on with their disgusting bladders and butts."

But then they stopped celebrating when the lunch aide came over. I told the lunch aide that they had been celebrating their dirty, disgusting bladders and butts. I said I had a very good memory and had once seen an Enablex commercial on television and that Enablex stopped incontinence, and also all of the bleeding, but the lunch aide didn't believe me. It was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad, loser day.

Then little Marco started going on and on about sending a rocket to the ISS and I thought he said ISIS and I told him I was going to hit him so hard if he didn't stop talking about ISIS and start DOING something about ISIS, and he said he had just gotten a Nerf N-Strike Modulus ECS-10 Blaster for Christmas that would solve everything, but I knew that was a tremendous lie, so I held his head under the water fountain until he promised he wouldn't insult me anymore. He said he was sorry but he also thanked me, because he had been incredibly thirsty.

Next week, I told him excitedly, I'm going to China.

While we were waiting for Javier to pick us up from school, Benny made me fall where it was muddy and I started crying. Carly said I was a crybaby, and while I was punching Carly for saying "crybaby," Benny started stabbing me with his selfie stick, but it hit my iPhone case and Javier pulled up with the car and scolded me for being muddy and fighting. I said, "You're fired!" and he didn't even care.

I am having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad, loser day, I told everybody. No one answered.

When we picked up my dad at his office, he said I couldn’t play with his copying machine, but I forgot and started running off copies of Ned Ooze's birth certificate so I could hand them out on the playground the next day and get him sent to a charter school in the Bronx. Dad also said don’t fool around with his new phone, but I retweeted a few things and I think I called Paris—or maybe it was Germany. Either way, Dad said please don’t pick him up at the office anymore, but to keep me from whining, he said he'd play Monopoly with me later if I agreed I wouldn't buy any affordable rental units for my properties.

It was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad, loser day.

Back home, someone in the kitchen whipped up a kale salad with balsamic and pine nuts for dinner, and I hate kale salad with balsamic and pine nuts for dinner. I wanted a taco bowl. There were Bachelorettes on TV who didn't get roses and I hate Bachelorettes on TV who don't get roses. I only like Bachelorettes on TV who get roses. Look at those faces—would anyone give a rose to those faces?!

My bath was too hot—like Mexico!—and I had to wear my Robert Moses footie pajamas. I hate my Robert Moses footie pajamas. He was an unbelievable show-off. Very braggy.

When I went to bed, I'd forgotten to bookmark where I'd left off in Mein Day Campf, so Mom read me Red Fish Blue Fish One Fish Two Corinthian Fish instead. I discovered my wonderful Tom Brady nightlight had burned out. It was the end of a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad, loser day.

My mom says some days are like that. Even in China. Sad! 

Tweets and treats at @jenngidman.