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Wednesday, March 04, 2009 Last Friday morning, through light rain, beneath skies that cleared as I headed south, I followed the interstates down to the Boston area for a fast two-day getaway. Staying once again with G.&S. in Cambridge, taking over G.'s teeny office/guest room. Cambridge: wind blowing, mild temperatures, sun slanting down through fast-moving clouds. And apart from the remains from mounds of plowed/shoveled snow melting away in sidestreets, no snow. Anywhere. A huge contrast with snow-slathered northern Vermont. S. welcomed me, the two household cats hovered cautiously in the background. Dumped my stuff in my temporary squat, S. pointed out that the b&w photo I remembered as a guy and a goat [see first paragraph of Feb. 7 entry] was actually a pic of G.'s brother tending to a sheep. An image with disturbing ramifications for anyone with a perverted imagination (though not for me of course, being an individual as pure as the driven blahblahblah). Unpacked, blabbed with S., found laser pointer and began Despite my thoughtfulness, once we were back outside into the mild, windy afternoon (and once we'd ducked into a beauty salon, of all places, to see a nice exhibit of a local photographer's work), S. pointed us down Mass. Ave., mumbling something about taking a "walk." Which turned out to be code for "forced march." Down the Avenue, through the Common, over to Brattle Street, through the Square, into the Holyoke Center, back out and across into and through Haaahvahd Yard, up Oxford Street, back over to Mass. Ave., and finally back to the flat where I could pull off my pointy boots -- not made for hikes of any distance, and certainly not made for interminable slogs walked at near light speed -- sobbing uncontrollably as I massaged my throbbing, abused feet. (Note: the teensiest bit of artistic license has been taken re: my emotional state in that last bit.) I pulled out my laptop -- why does that sound vaguely obscene? -- and retreated to the internet. S. did the same. We sat on the living room sofa together, swapping ongoing commentary as we each stumbled around various corners of the net. I'd intended the high point of that evening to be a showing of Dr. Horrible, me having brought along my copy of the dvd, intending to give G.&S. a shot of entertainment/culture, after which they intended to watch Friday Night Lights. G. returned from work, they decided to make dinner, a dinner whose preparation went on and on and on until only enough time remained to see the first 15 minutes of Dr. H. before Texas football mania got cranked. Luckily, the chow turned out to be pretty good, keeping me happily occupied until FNL was well underway, at which point I realized what I was in for and did my best to watch graciously, without bitching, moaning or deafening G.&S. with the sound of grinding teeth. That was Friday. [continued on following entry] España, te echo de menos rws 4:03 PM [+]
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