Commonplace
Most common phrase for Boston living: "Cool and cloudy tomorrow with a 70% chance of rain."
Today we had a break from cool and cloudy with rain: bright sun and a fresh breeze off the ocean. I think ah, the lake effect, but I am of course completely wrong. We spent about four hours walking the freedom trail, from Boston Common to the Bunker Hill monument, an impressive obelisk that predates the Washington Monument by about 40 years. A nice walk, especially when one veers off the path into the neighbourhoods along the way. We walked a prodigious amount, circling back to a T stop not very far from the end of the line on which we live. Boston is much smaller than Chicago, such that you can walk farther in less time, but the neighbourhoods and 'burbs (so far as I have observed) are not as multi-use or purposed as Chicago neighbourhoods. One has to walk farther to get to groceries, farther to the post office or library, farther to the coffee shop. I'm sure the fact that we live in an honest-to-gawd suburb contributes to my impression that this place is not made for people to walk from here to there; it's a car part of the city-place.
Tomorrow's agenda: bank, DMV. School starts for half of us; I hope to hear back from offices that will be returning to work after the long weekend. High hopes.
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Our owner-occupied two-flat (plus basement apt.) has, in place of a back yard, a sizable in-ground pool, outfitted with a potbellied woodburning stove and a wood-fired clam boil pot (one can only assume). Tenants are not granted the use of this facility; it is for the owners, their kids, and their grandkids. They were out in it today, and I watched as I did a mountain of dishes in my unlikely big kitchen, looking out the jealously window over the sudsy, hot, stainless double basin sink.
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Requiem eternam, Steve Irwin. Crikey, all y'all: he died doing what he loved. Though for the life of me, as an ertswhile field biologist myself, I cannot figure out why he felt he should wear shorts out into the bush. Every self respecting ecologist knows that long pants are de rigeur, not just because shorts look stupid; long pants are the first line of defense from plants and animals that want to eat, scab, scratch, poison, or kill you. All the same, he enthusiastically worked with reptiles and other animals that might not be so cuddly but are still vital and deserving of preservation.
Today we had a break from cool and cloudy with rain: bright sun and a fresh breeze off the ocean. I think ah, the lake effect, but I am of course completely wrong. We spent about four hours walking the freedom trail, from Boston Common to the Bunker Hill monument, an impressive obelisk that predates the Washington Monument by about 40 years. A nice walk, especially when one veers off the path into the neighbourhoods along the way. We walked a prodigious amount, circling back to a T stop not very far from the end of the line on which we live. Boston is much smaller than Chicago, such that you can walk farther in less time, but the neighbourhoods and 'burbs (so far as I have observed) are not as multi-use or purposed as Chicago neighbourhoods. One has to walk farther to get to groceries, farther to the post office or library, farther to the coffee shop. I'm sure the fact that we live in an honest-to-gawd suburb contributes to my impression that this place is not made for people to walk from here to there; it's a car part of the city-place.
Tomorrow's agenda: bank, DMV. School starts for half of us; I hope to hear back from offices that will be returning to work after the long weekend. High hopes.
+ + +
Our owner-occupied two-flat (plus basement apt.) has, in place of a back yard, a sizable in-ground pool, outfitted with a potbellied woodburning stove and a wood-fired clam boil pot (one can only assume). Tenants are not granted the use of this facility; it is for the owners, their kids, and their grandkids. They were out in it today, and I watched as I did a mountain of dishes in my unlikely big kitchen, looking out the jealously window over the sudsy, hot, stainless double basin sink.
+ + +
Requiem eternam, Steve Irwin. Crikey, all y'all: he died doing what he loved. Though for the life of me, as an ertswhile field biologist myself, I cannot figure out why he felt he should wear shorts out into the bush. Every self respecting ecologist knows that long pants are de rigeur, not just because shorts look stupid; long pants are the first line of defense from plants and animals that want to eat, scab, scratch, poison, or kill you. All the same, he enthusiastically worked with reptiles and other animals that might not be so cuddly but are still vital and deserving of preservation.
posted by Nora Rocket at 7:50 PM
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