My birthday was yesterday. I turned 47. I realized that in keeping this journal over the years it has been literally a quarter of my life thus far. Kind of super crazy.
In the past I've enjoyed a stellar meteor shower for my birthday, and I've gone to see Barenaked Ladies and Ed Robertson made me cry.
This year was incredibly quiet, and some would say boring. But I am okay with that.
I've been working in Boston, and on Tuesdays Doug and I drive in together. He gets me to the Wellington T station in the morning, and I schlep in on the T. I then await a call from him that says he is done for the day and headed my direction if I want a ride home.
I have the option to tell him to head north, or to tell him to come get me.
He came to me and got to my office before 5pm, which is typically unheard of, but traffic was kind. He scored a spot in front of my office, again... unheard of. I came down to meet him and we talked about our food options.
Directly at the end of the block is a place called Tavern Road Restaurant, so we opted to go there.
Dinner was delicious. I have never had marrow butter and now want it all day (it's like gravy, for those who don't know what it is, so don't be thinking I am making butter out of animal bone marrow... gravy. think gravy. you like gravy... and you'd love marrow butter).
We were home by 7:30.
I was asleep by 9:30.
Welcome to 47.
Wednesday, November 20, 2013
Wednesday, November 06, 2013
Overheard on the corner of Dorchester Avenue and Congress Street
Gentleman in a very very nice business suit, outside the back entrance of the Federal Reserve Bank, leaning on the railing overlooking the channel. Cellphone to his ear, begins pacing back and forth as I approach.
And then he says loudly:
"Really, Really. Did that motherfucker tell the Feds that I was the one that took the money? He's a piece of work, I tell you. A fucking piece of work."
He tells the guy on the other end to hang on as I pass. I get about 20 feet down Congress and he turns his back and begins ranting. I can't hear him over the traffic. I have no idea what is now being said.
Intriguing.
And then he says loudly:
"Really, Really. Did that motherfucker tell the Feds that I was the one that took the money? He's a piece of work, I tell you. A fucking piece of work."
He tells the guy on the other end to hang on as I pass. I get about 20 feet down Congress and he turns his back and begins ranting. I can't hear him over the traffic. I have no idea what is now being said.
Intriguing.
Tuesday, November 05, 2013
Near Dewey Square, or ... the smelliest day ever.
Today, I was yelled at by a man because I had on a sourpuss face.
I was walking behind someone who was smoking. It was a particularly smelly and disgusting cigarette. Most of the time outdoors smoking doesn't bother me but I have no idea what kind of carpet fibers and cat litter this guy was smoking, it was NASTY. I was trying to get around him, trying to figure out a way to stop breathing. I knew I had on a great horrible "feh" facial expression. I could feel it all over me. My disdain was creeping down into my chest, my throat, and I felt like I might just lean over and puke into the parking lane (it wouldn't be the first time the parking lane outside South Station was puked upon...)
A man walking in the opposite direction, towards me, slowed down enough to make eye contact. He had this distinct look of incredulity on his face, and as I got closer, he said "What the FUCK is your problem? SMILE FOR GOD'S SAKE ALREADY! IT IS A BEAUTIFUL DAY!" With the last line he threw his arms up in the air, and continued on his way.
Not exactly my idea of spreading kindness and good cheer in the streets of Boston but ... I guess my face called for something. And in spite of the stench, I couldn't help but start laughing.
Crossed the street immediately and got whiffs of diesel, coffee, the Channel and sunshine. Which all smelled much better and subdued my desire to vomit.
Edit:
Yesterday's smell fest only got worse. Somehow a sewer stench was coming up our elevator shaft. The receptionist on the main level truly had it bad having to spend the day there sniffing it, and dealing with the people coming in asking what the smell was. Someone microwaved something awful. That was great. Then, there was the burned popcorn.
Something I did not miss about working in an office building was other people's food choices and burned popcorn.
The Subway had a special dose of fresh hell for me in the form of a particularly gorgeous woman standing beside me with the worst breath I've ever smelled in my life. I thought it was me so I had a piece of gum. I should have offered her one, because it was not me.
On the way home, I told Doug about all of my olfactory insults. We were on I-95 just north of our former exit, headed towards Newburyport. My guess is we were still in Georgetown, possibly Byfield, maybe even in Newbury.
The smell entered the car - we weren't sure if we'd passed very ripe roadkill, an overturned trash truck, an kicked over porta pottie from the construction going on or what. The gaseous cloud invaded the vehicle. We started screaming. Doug rolled the windows down to get air circulating through the car. The freezing cold air was rank. We ran for miles up the highway yelling at the top of our lungs about the stink.
"This truly is the smelliest day ever!" my husband yelled at the top of his lungs.
Eventually, the stench faded. We put the windows back up. I thought maybe the smell had sunk into my clothing, my pores. It was horrifying.
Indeed. Yesterday was the smelliest day ever.
I was walking behind someone who was smoking. It was a particularly smelly and disgusting cigarette. Most of the time outdoors smoking doesn't bother me but I have no idea what kind of carpet fibers and cat litter this guy was smoking, it was NASTY. I was trying to get around him, trying to figure out a way to stop breathing. I knew I had on a great horrible "feh" facial expression. I could feel it all over me. My disdain was creeping down into my chest, my throat, and I felt like I might just lean over and puke into the parking lane (it wouldn't be the first time the parking lane outside South Station was puked upon...)
A man walking in the opposite direction, towards me, slowed down enough to make eye contact. He had this distinct look of incredulity on his face, and as I got closer, he said "What the FUCK is your problem? SMILE FOR GOD'S SAKE ALREADY! IT IS A BEAUTIFUL DAY!" With the last line he threw his arms up in the air, and continued on his way.
Not exactly my idea of spreading kindness and good cheer in the streets of Boston but ... I guess my face called for something. And in spite of the stench, I couldn't help but start laughing.
Crossed the street immediately and got whiffs of diesel, coffee, the Channel and sunshine. Which all smelled much better and subdued my desire to vomit.
Edit:
Yesterday's smell fest only got worse. Somehow a sewer stench was coming up our elevator shaft. The receptionist on the main level truly had it bad having to spend the day there sniffing it, and dealing with the people coming in asking what the smell was. Someone microwaved something awful. That was great. Then, there was the burned popcorn.
Something I did not miss about working in an office building was other people's food choices and burned popcorn.
The Subway had a special dose of fresh hell for me in the form of a particularly gorgeous woman standing beside me with the worst breath I've ever smelled in my life. I thought it was me so I had a piece of gum. I should have offered her one, because it was not me.
On the way home, I told Doug about all of my olfactory insults. We were on I-95 just north of our former exit, headed towards Newburyport. My guess is we were still in Georgetown, possibly Byfield, maybe even in Newbury.
The smell entered the car - we weren't sure if we'd passed very ripe roadkill, an overturned trash truck, an kicked over porta pottie from the construction going on or what. The gaseous cloud invaded the vehicle. We started screaming. Doug rolled the windows down to get air circulating through the car. The freezing cold air was rank. We ran for miles up the highway yelling at the top of our lungs about the stink.
"This truly is the smelliest day ever!" my husband yelled at the top of his lungs.
Eventually, the stench faded. We put the windows back up. I thought maybe the smell had sunk into my clothing, my pores. It was horrifying.
Indeed. Yesterday was the smelliest day ever.
Monday, November 04, 2013
Commuting Observation
So, one of the things that I've been neglecting to share is something I
have noticed while commuting: People bring a lot of luggage with them.
I'm often surprised by the lady with a pocket book/shoulder bag, a laptop case and a little suitcase on wheels that they're dragging around behind them, or the guy with the rolly suitcase, the gym bag and the laptop case. I watch them navigate down the train aisle... bumping into everyone and trying not to, or just bull in china shop motoring through the train station to get where they're going fast.
People travel to work on a daily basis with more stuff than I take away on a week's vacation.
And I have to ask... do we really need that much crap? I mean, maybe they're lawyers and they have a ton of stuff in the rolly case paperwork wise that they HAVE to bring with them places. But I get the feeling sometimes that it is gym clothes (the dead give away is the yoga mat strapped to the side of the suitcase).
When they get to their destination, do they really use all that stuff or is it a just in case situation. Maybe there is a change of clothes to go out somewhere fancy after work with the girls.
Maybe they never get a chance to get to the gym, or go out for cocktails at Nebo, because they're always just too busy.
But... they're prepared.
I'm often surprised by the lady with a pocket book/shoulder bag, a laptop case and a little suitcase on wheels that they're dragging around behind them, or the guy with the rolly suitcase, the gym bag and the laptop case. I watch them navigate down the train aisle... bumping into everyone and trying not to, or just bull in china shop motoring through the train station to get where they're going fast.
People travel to work on a daily basis with more stuff than I take away on a week's vacation.
And I have to ask... do we really need that much crap? I mean, maybe they're lawyers and they have a ton of stuff in the rolly case paperwork wise that they HAVE to bring with them places. But I get the feeling sometimes that it is gym clothes (the dead give away is the yoga mat strapped to the side of the suitcase).
When they get to their destination, do they really use all that stuff or is it a just in case situation. Maybe there is a change of clothes to go out somewhere fancy after work with the girls.
Maybe they never get a chance to get to the gym, or go out for cocktails at Nebo, because they're always just too busy.
But... they're prepared.
Home
Today I stayed home from work. Got my period on Thursday and fully believed that the 24 hour pain fest would start on Saturday afternoon and end on Sunday. Well, it started when I anticipated, and still goes on. So I called out, losing a day's pay.
But there is an upside. Our landlord had a call in to the furnace dudes on Friday and they didn't make it here over the weekend, so... I was home to meet the guy this morning and our furnace is now working. Which is good. Because it was 20 degrees outside this morning, and possibly 40 in my bedroom.
Curled up in bed with three dogs surrounding me, 40 degrees is doable. Down in the livingroom the space heater was cranking and when I got up I started the woodstove, so the place was manageable. I can imagine people living like this over the course of a winter in an old farm house like this. I can't imagine single digits or negative temps... that I couldn't do. But ... no complaints from me this morning. I'm happy it worked out this way.
But there is an upside. Our landlord had a call in to the furnace dudes on Friday and they didn't make it here over the weekend, so... I was home to meet the guy this morning and our furnace is now working. Which is good. Because it was 20 degrees outside this morning, and possibly 40 in my bedroom.
Curled up in bed with three dogs surrounding me, 40 degrees is doable. Down in the livingroom the space heater was cranking and when I got up I started the woodstove, so the place was manageable. I can imagine people living like this over the course of a winter in an old farm house like this. I can't imagine single digits or negative temps... that I couldn't do. But ... no complaints from me this morning. I'm happy it worked out this way.
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