Sowa (South of Washington Street) turns out to be a neighborhood down near the Southeast Expressway. Real damn urban, and not an area I'm familiar with. G. did an excellent of navigating Sat. afternoon traffic and getting us there, a teeny parking spot presented itself. So teeny the Subaru didn't quite fit. The driver of the car in front was there, G. got out and asked him nicely if he would inch forward enough to allow her to park. He did, me enjoying an example of urban cooperation instead of a display of urban indifference (or personal combat). Once out of car, it became clear that the temperature had dropped, the day getting colder, more raw. Which wouldn't have been a problem if I'd been dressed for Vermont. (The previous day's balmy weather had lulled me into leaving my thermals back in my temporary squat.) But we were quickly inside heated places, so what the hell. Galleries, artists' lofts, all that. Artiness everywhere.
After spending a while wandering through an impressively oversized building of artists' studios, hallways stretching on and on, finding the occasional studio open for intruders like us to poke our collective noses into, we headed back out into the cold. Moved the car (me and S. standing in a spot down the street to hold it, shooing away a couple in an overgrown SUV (her looking like she might be ready to fight for the spot until I pointed out that we were abandoning one down the street to move to this one -- ahh, urban life)). Hiked to a crowded eatery in the South End, managed (with the use of guile, patience and the occasional well-placed elbow) to get a table G. wanted. Inhaled a light meal of pretty good turkey chili, leaving space for the evening's main attraction: a Chinese meal at a joint near G.&S.'s flat, a place that produces a fine plate of spicy eggplant.
As we ate, I watched a gent outside in the street, dressed in old clothes, a worn thermal vest, wearing a knit cap bearing the Patriots logo. Sweeping up garbage strewn in gutters and sidewalks, dumping it into a wheeled trash can, doing a careful, thorough job. I commented on him, appreciating that someone was out there cleaning up rubbish in the cold. On the way out, G. spoke with him, he said without work like that he'd be home receiving disability pay, said he'd rather be out doing something productive. Seemed like a good guy -- I hope he's being paid a pile of $$$ for his labor.
A few hours later, after a pit-stop at the flat for relaxation and kitty-
"Why," I said after that last one, "is he calling her 'Chuckles'?"
"Huh?" replied S. "He's not. It means...."
"R. knows," G. interrupted, putting a hand over one of S.'s hands. "Remember who you're dealing with." Which made me feel obnoxiously pleased.
[continued in next entry]
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March snowfall, northern Vermont:
España, te echo de menos
rws 1:06 PM [+]
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