BECAUSE SHE IS ALLERGIC TO HER OWN GOD DAMN TEETH!!
okay, technically that isn't true. apparently she has lymphocytic-plasmacytic gingivitis stomatitis (LPGS), which means she is allergic to her own plaque.
since you can't really have teeth without plaque, it's basically the same thing in my eyes.
at least now we know why she smells so bad.
sorry trixie.
it's killing me. who knows what this truck does?!?!?
seriously. i know... i can be obsessive. it's true. i perseverate. and i ponder. and certain things get caught in my head. and then the more i think about them, the more they begin to nag...
so help me out folks. i saw the truck in the somerville parade. i know it's part of Somerville Works. but that's all i know. and now i can't stop thinking about it. it looks a little like one of those crap vacuums that they have in european cities, that do nothing but drive around and suck up dog poo. but it has that fancy winch in front, as if it will be rescuing small children from the bottom of wells. yet those tubes on the sides look like they could launch rockets. and it's oh so very shiny, like a toy. what does the DPW need with a crap-sucking-timmy-fell-down-the-well-scud-missile-launching-tonka-truck?
and i mean it -- a dozen homemade cookies to the first person who can tell me what the heck this thing does!!
so kathryn came home from her college reunion yesterday all tired and possibly (heck, probably!) hung over. she was just in time to watch the parade go by. the arts council had made a special float, which she helped put together. i was of the mistaken idea that she would actually be *in* the parade, but apparently this was not to be.
until shayne and i started instigating.
and nagging.
and cajoling.
and *inspiring*.
so up the street she ran, where she hopped on the float, and rode it down. throwing out old expired art beat dog tags to the adoring crowd. making art for freedom.
i like my job. in theory, i derive pleasure from increasing other peoples’ happiness quotients (giving people ice cream makes them happy!). however, the reality of my job is that it's filled with the tedium of answering the question, “what is cow tracks?” roughly 139 times every shift (it's a sweet cream base with a fudge swirl, mini peanut butter cups and chocolate chips, in case you're wondering), calling the cops on the bum who’s peed all over himself in front of the store, and getting yelled at for the high price of homemade ice cream (like i'm personally profiting… i’m not exactly moneybags mcgee over here, people).
a few days ago when some guy asked me how thick our frappes are (milkshakes for you non-new england natives). i answered him in my driest tone, ‘they’re about an 8 on the viscosity scale.’ he smiled and said sincerely, ‘that sounds great!’ i guess stupid questions deserve stupid answers that involve fabricated measuring systems.
then there are the questions that completely dumbfound me. ‘what does your black raspberry taste like?’ uh, it tastes a lot like black raspberries. hence the name. 'what's coffee oreo?' we're not exactly ben & jerry's - no lyrical and obtuse names like the gobfather, vermonty python or phish food here. if it's called 'coffee oreo', chances are good that it is in fact coffee ice cream with oreos in it.
the other day some girl asked me what the hardest ice cream to scoop is, then promptly ordered it. great, now the customers are intent on making me work even harder for my just-above minimum wage hourly rate. carrying 6 buckets (roughly 90 lbs) of ice cream up the stairs at the same time clearly means that I’m slacking and I need to be working harder. why doesn't everyone just get whatever’s hardest to scoop so shayne’s right bicep becomes even more freakish! hey, at least I know that if this ice cream gig doesn’t work out, I can join the circus freakshow as the amazing lopsided woman.
however, my favorite of all the weird questions/feedback at the ice cream store has to be the customer comment card that was filled out last year complaining that our ice cream tastes too much like what it's supposed to be. the example this astute customer used was the oreo ice cream - it tastes just like actual oreos, not enough like vanilla ice cream with oreos in it. they should definitely stay away from the chocolate ice cream, then. it tastes suspiciously chocolately.
one of the joys of living on the main drag in somerville is that all of the parades go right by the house. i can wander out in my bare feet, sit on the stoop, and enjoy the wonder that is somerville. this place, while being the most densely populated city in MA (and in the top ten of the entire U.S.), still struggles to rest somewhere between modern metropolis and small town. nothing highlights this better than an olde tyme parade.
for two hours, shayne and i watched a long slow trek of people celebrating the holiday. there were marching bands, cheerleaders, armed forces (and not so armed forces, such as the transit police), bagpipers, clowns, nuns, flag girls, weird cars and trucks, little league teams, clydesdales, civil servants, shriners, shriners, and more shriners. if it weren't for the shriners, i would guess that the whole thing would have taken 45 minutes tops.
which left me to wonder about the shriners. they have appeared in most parades and celebrations that i have seen in the U.S. and yet i was left scratching my head, wondering "who are these men, and what the heck do they do??". so i pulled out my trusty "international encyclopedia of secret societies & fraternal orders" and did a little research.
the shriners full name is The Imperial Council of the Ancient Arabic Order of Nobles of the Mystic Shrine. no wonder they thought to shorten that. and they are an offshoot of the Masons (Ancient, Free, & Accepted). any master mason of the 32nd degree, or a Knights Templar, can get in. they are the wacky side of the usually very serious Masons.
according to lore, it was started because the Masons were teetotalers, and these men wanted to drink booze. they almost got kicked out of the Masons for being boisterous drunks, until they started turning some of their extra energy to good works. the shriners hospital kept them in the good graces of the Masons, and generally kept them from getting arrested for all of their wild shenanigans. it has not, however, kept them in the good graces of people who are followers of Islam. the shriners have ripped off and bedazzled a lot of their rituals and apparently generally piss them off.
and, as i suspected... ladies can't be shriners. if you are the wife, mother, daughter, or sister of a shriner, you can join the auxiliary Ladies Oriental Shrine of North America, but you can't get the sparkly fez or drive in the tiny cars or get elected to Most Illustrious Grand Potentate.
basically what i learned is that the shriners are even weirder than i initially thought.
many of my friends and family have heard me brag about my mad culinary skillz. i will talk your ear off about the importance of cream of tartar in making the perfect snickerdoodles, or how a little bit of lemon juice really just brightens up any meal. while i might not be able to pick a decent table wine, i can find a ripe melon, or a juicy lime, or generally tell if pork has been infused with water and salt prior to packaging. i own more specialty kitchen gadgets than a kitchen of my size should have. a zester. a ginger grater. a marble mortal and pestle. a freakin' cake fork for christ's sake. i have a hand cranked bread maker from the 50's, and an electric one from the nineties. i own more cookbooks than i own dictionaries.
and while my tastes tend to run to the comfort food, it's always just a little fancy. meatloaf wrapped in bacon. macaroni and cheese made with gruyere and gorgonzola. toasted pine nuts in everything.
and yet... i do confess... i have a love of junk food. and i don't mean junk food in the "twinkie" sense (although i did once make the loved and feared twinkie casserole for shayne), but in the convenience food, there's-no-real-food-in-my-food, sort of way.
i am terribly embarrassed about this.
so, to purge my guilty conscience, i do hereby avow my deepest love for the following:
bacos
bisquik
suddenly salad mix in a box
magic shell
cake mix
peperidge farms frozen garlic bread
any kind of doughnut, the crappier the better
cheese wiz
coffemate creamer
pilsbury crescent rolls
gourmayo
any mini sausages, preferably with tasty dippin' sauce
whew. i feel better now.
friday night shayne and i went out with peter and brenda to catch a night of amateur porn. it was the seventh annual "You Oughta Be in Pictures" show, sponsored by local women-friendly sex shops Grand Openings and Good Vibrations. people spend all year sending in submissions for the event, which is run three times. three master dvd's are made, and at the end of the night, each is ritualistically destroyed.
the clips are all shorts, which run from the funny to the dirty to the down-right kinky. but really the whole thing is just a celebration of sexuality. the actors appear to be having a good time, the audience is enthusiastic, and Kim Airs, the curator of the fesitval has a good sense of what plays well to a mixed crowd.
it seems like it's a great chance for everybody to get their preferences validated. there was an homage to men in thongs, a sneak peek at the sexual life of doughnuts, some intense gender-bending, and a deep respect for the sexuality of the older generation, the younger generation, and everybody in between. gay, straight, plushie or s/m. it was all there. and the audience loved it.
perhaps the funniest clip of the night was the last, which involved an erect penis and a lamb chop puppet. since we had already seen so much debauchery, we were expecting it and resigned, except for the young man behind me who blurted out "FOR THE LOVE OF GOD! NO, LAMB CHOP! DON'T DO IT!!". but she did, and now we are all educated as to where baby lamb chop puppets come from. i think Shari Lewis might be turning over in her grave.
shayne and i just did our annual volunteering for the Walk for Hunger. she and i have done this together most years for the past six years or so. our old company used to organize troops to help marshall crowds and direct walkers through busy intersections. while most of us no longer work for the company (and in fact, tend to call ourselves "survivors" of the place), we still show up year after year, to hold the same signs, and stand on the same corners, to help out.
and eat snacks.
one of the great ironies of this gig is that they pack up snack bags. free chips and drinks and coffee and doughnuts and candy bars. so while other people are trudging 20 miles to stamp out hunger, we lollygag, smoke cigarettes, eat free snacks. i felt a little guilty about the whole thing.
do i still feel like what i did contributed? sure. in that old lady sort of way. i dread becoming one of those people who no longer gives their time or energy, just their money. although that's valid, too.
helping out comes in many forms, and i was raised to raise my voice for what i believe in. when i was younger, i donated blood and marched on washington. i went to peace vigils and took back the night. i once even went so far as to lash myself to a trident nuclear submarine. i spent four years donating my time as a rape counselor, being on call for the hospitals for victims of sexual assault. i saw the worst that the world had to offer. and yes, when i was a teenager i even actually walked the Walk for Hunger.
and i just realized that i trudged those 20 miles, back in 1987, eating snacks, drinking coffee, and smoking cigarettes.
maybe i really haven't changed that much at all.
and the lord apparently taketh away my magical blizzard toaster.
it's gone.
as quickly as it appeared on the roof of the car, it vanished from the casa porch. who wanders around the homes of somerville, desperately searching for a free small kitchen appliance?
i dunno.
maybe it gets more at the redemption center than the bounty of diet coke and seltzer bottles we leave in the recycling. maybe some tufts kid, all hopped up on goofballs, had the munchies and desperately needed a pop-tart.
and maybe i imagined the whole thing.
but i swear it was there.
ride me sexy.
there is something slightly magical about the casa. i don't know if it's our magnetic pull... or the junky look of the outside of the house... but it seems to be the repository of other people's unwanted crap. and i am not talking about the detritus of the inhabitants. nope. people just leave their trash here.
this weekend somebody left us an old stairmaster. we don't know where it came from. but there is appeared in front of the casa. a few hours later, somebody added the "ride me sexy" sign. and a few hours after that, it was gone.
this isn't the first time stuff has just shown up here. during this winter's blizzard, a toaster automagically appeared on the roof of one of the cars. it's cord was laid out straight behind it, trailing down the back window. and the snow drifted around it. who carries around a toaster in the middle of a blizzard. and why?
earlier this year it was a copy of the book "Schnozzola: The Story of Jimmy Durante". it appeared on the roof of the grannymobile, open to a winsome picture of the big-nosed man himself.
why us? why here? and what the heck is going to appear next??
so it's time for a new bulletted list, which has it's genesis in the personal shame i feel for having let the casa blog lapse. what can i say? i fell victim to too much hilarity.
* kathryn had a nasty accident on her bike, which resulted in a casa family field trip to the ER. shayne and i went along, since any chance to play doctor is a good one in our book. pics from the visit (yes, i brought my camera just so i could blog about it) can be found here.
* shayne and i discovered a new way to amuse ourselves a few weekends ago. i decided that it was my mission to find shayne a new boyfriend. so i posted a personal ad for her on CL. i thought it was a witty ad, and apparently many men agreed with me. shayne got me back by writing a personal ad for me. over 50 responses in 24 hours poured into my new email account datemyroomie@gmail.com. we spent the weekend fielding emails for each other and corresponding with some great men. no dates came out of it, but it was probably a step in the right direction for both of us. if you care to read the ad that i posted for her, please check the comments section.
* and finally we celebrated easter in high style with a pub crawl that started at the thirsty scholar and ended in a hot tub on the cape. i am not sure how these things happen.
too much hilarity has resulted in both shayne and i being sick and lying around the living room moaning "i don't feel so good" to each other. it's the casa family motto, and we wear our coat of arms proudly.
may your life be long and happy and filled with love and laughter and beauty... i'm sure it will with such wonderful parents (and aunties and uncles and grandparents!! :)
so i turned 35 on thursday, or as Marc put it... i've made it way past Jesus age now. the whole thing was a lot of fun, and i find that i am not one of those neurotic people who gets mopey about getting older. i got two stuffed llamas from a guy i work with, which was sweet. a gift certificate to dunkin donuts for many cups of coffee, and various cards from the women i work with. got to chat with many friends and family and field a plethora of emails. the whole thing made me feel quite loved.
scoutie not only took me out for sushi (okay, we actually ate sushi in our jammies on the couch in the casa), and bought me flowers, but she made me a tower of home-made whoopie pies. she remembered that i had mentioned it three months ago as what i wanted for my birthday. i, of course, had totally forgotten this. man, you haven't had a sweet desert unless you've had a fresh baked whoopie pie.
friday i went out for drinks with some close friends. i find that my birthday is a great excuse for my friends to get hammered. this time the evening wound up with all of us in underbones in various arm-wrestling matches. the one-armed-bandit wisely decided to take pics instead of wrestling. i like to think i get smarter as i get older.
and to end up a good week, my staff and i got to spend some time hanging out with the guys from the ballistics department. i feel like my job at the crime lab is finally paying off... since they let me hold a rocket launcher! there are not many jobs one can get and play with a rocket launcher, short of being in the army or being a terrorist. and let's face it, those two occupations seem to come with "don't ask, don't tell" policies that make me uncomfortable.
so it's been a good week. many thanks to all who played a part in it.
my dear friend sara got married on 25 march, and i was lucky enough to be one of her bridesmaids. i was supposed to wear a pink dress, and as usual, i dreamed up a dress but then couldn't find anything that quite worked. cobi and i tried going to new york to find the perfect pink silk shantung, but didn't have any luck. finally, my sister and i headed down to chinatown and stumbled on a watermelon fabric. there wasn't enough, so i had to modify the pattern slightly. it still came out well.
i am always fascinated by processes. so, here's some pictures of the process!
and, the result with my cute little green shoes. i got a pedicure with pink to match the dress, and also covered a headband with the pink fabric. i couldn't find any reasonably priced green jewelry to match, so i made a necklace and some earrings to match. maybe i'll post some close-up pictures of those as well. some observations:
- the boning of the dress was well worth it, especially for the shape and bit of support it provided.
- i was worried the shoes didn't match, but tying the color in with accessories was key
- patience, patience: the only time i started making mistakes while making the dress was when i was tired and had been working on it for hours. from now on, as soon as i make a mistake or get frustrated, i need to put everything down and return to it after a good night's sleep
- the pattern, fabric, and notions were $75. i spent about 14 hours on the dress - so if you have more money than time, i would recommend just buying a dress. that being said, the sense of satisfaction i get everytime i look at it is worth a whole lot. it was just the fabric i wanted, and i was able to tailor the fit to my figure - it's hard to find things that fit just right
and, the wedding:
me, sara, christine, and joey (the man of honor)
completely lovely. sara looked fantastic, and the ceremony and reception were very sara & chris; not too formal and just right. it's always nice to see someone who is in love with your friend - it's like it gives you an automatic connection: "hey, i think she's awesome too!!". in different ways, but you know what i mean. anyhow, i'm not gonna get all emo right now, but it was really wonderful to be there and spend more time with chris.
when i got there i had some nice time to spend with sara, and we got to just relax and chat at the swanky corporate apartment we stayed in. i also got to hang out with joey and run errands and he understands about alone time, and chitty-chat with christine, which was really nice. i love visiting NC and wish i could do it more, though i am excited because i'll be back in august for my ex-boyfriend potatoes' wedding. fortunately sara and chris are going as well, so i know the trip will be super-fun. you can visit sara & chris' wedding photo page for more pictures. oh, weddings - so much fun! i could really go on - the bachelorette was awesome, and sara's friends are so nice and were hospitable and helpful, the reception was great fun and we danced and drank and...you know...one of those fantastic weekends that i desperately freakin' needed.
so i have been sick as a dog this week. i was doing fine until tuesday evening, when i was horribly stricken with something mean. my fever didn't get below 102 until thursday morning, and at it's peak it reached 104. as an adult, fevers that high are rare, and i think it cooked my brain a little. now i am just left with a garden variety cold, and the feeling that my body is recuperating from a long illness. i lost five pounds and let the cats fend for themselves while shayne was gone. now that i am mostly better, i spent a chunk of the morning cleaning up cat poo. i think they managed to get every room in the house.
in the midst of this, my mom had a birthday. while last year my sister orchestrated a great little flickr project... this year the best i could do was a weak little phone call in the morning. it might not have been the most exuberant birthday greeting, but my mom knows i love her and that she is often in my thoughts. happy belated birthday mom!
on a random side note -- i am getting very interested in how unknown strangers find the blog. this is such a little personal account of life at the casa, that they must find it strange. so, for the first half of the month of march, here is a partial list of google image searches that have brought folks to the blog:
- nekkid
- tasty deserts
- naked kate
- letterpress printing
- blondie brownies
- nice house on the beach
- dancing chicken
- franklin, tennessee
- barn smell
- see down her shirt
- gardening hat
- marinating
- jesus sculpture
- penelope pumpkins
i think this shows that, if nothing else, this blog is an eclectic mix. and that the casa must be a damn interesting place to live...
yeah, that's right - i went to utah this week. i went to visit one of my oldest and dearest friends, who luckily works in a ski store and got me free rentals and lift tickets. thanks, malik! you're the best...around!! nothing's gonna evah bring you down!! i skiied at 3 different mountains in park city (park city, deer valley, and the canyons), read 5 books (including the last 3 dark tower books by stephen king, good stuff), and watched 2 movies (star trek: nemesis and underworld... nemesis was great, underworld was just as crappy as i expected, but mildly entertaining nonetheless). the skiing was amazing - this is a full mountain picture of the canyons, which was probably my favorite mountain. the trails are all set back from the village/condo part of the resort - you have to take a gondola over a huge canyon in order to get to the slopes. it's also the biggest of the three mountains, but because of the terrain (lots of canyons, just as advertised), it felt the smallest. it took me a while to get the feel of it after not having skiied for 7 years, but once i remembered how to shake my hips (the fact that i'd forgotten proves that i don't get out enough these days), i was just fine. as i left park city, a huge storm hit, dumping about 31" of snow over 3 days. i bowed my head and apologized to mother nature for all the complaining i do about new england snow.
good company, good skiing, good books. but most importantly, i managed to avoid all the mormons, returning just as heathen as i left. which is good, because i've been informed that if i turn mormon i have to live in the basement. and it's scary down there.
well, we've had a very busy weekend here at the casa. friday night, casa-friend dan had a party at his beautiful new house. kate, shayne and i headed over to bring greetings, bad champagne, and homemade mac n cheese. i'm particularly impressed that i pulled the mac n cheese together, having been out of work sick on wednesday and thursday, and a shitty day back on friday.
regardless, i rallied and we trooped over where i had a fantastic time seeing CL people, and getting pretty tossed and stoned. i never smoke pot, so i'm always particularly entertained with myself (and everyone else for that matter). i told the party stories of stupid things done while drunk, including playing 'nails'. this involves a tree stump, some drunk friends, and a hammer being tossed in the air and caught, with a rapid whack on someone's nail. it's the best freaking game ever; i only wish we had a stump in the backyard. i could be found every summer night, inebriated with a box of nails and some cute boys, standing around a stump.
anyhow, shayne and i got trashed and kate stayed sober, and we trooped over to marc's house. fortunately he had cupcakes for us to eat, unfortunately he only had gin with a weird sports drink as a mixer. shayne and i, always the troopers, didn't let that stop us. and: it was weirdly good. we headed home, where i passed out in bed after sending someone a text message. i can't remember what i wrote, and i didn't save it, but the rather ...er... curt response would indicate i got some things off my chest. oh, kathryn, you're such a funny girl! hahaha. anyhow, i woke up face down with all my earrings in, hair still all done, socks on, but no pants. *shrug* it's beyond me.
saturday was spent sleeping and washing dishes. saturday night my dear friend alison and i went out to a nice sushi dinner. we caught up, and had a really nice time. the trouble started when we headed to charlie's kitchen, where we ran into a bunch of friends upstairs at a table. they're a bunch of dudes who tattoo for a living, and they like to drink. they particularly like to do shots, ordered in rounds, for the entire table. alison was bright enough to leave after a few beers and two shots, but i decided i needed to finish what i started. more shots, more cape codders later, i was pleasantly hammered and decided to go help my sister downstairs (she was bartending). she gave me water till everyone had cleared out, and i washed the bar top and helped clean up, then went home. it was a fun night!
which brings us to today. i met my friend joe for coffee at 10:30. we had a nice chat, and caught up. i walked him to work and then headed home. napped, sat, smoke cigarettes, and did a lot of thinking. i've had some weird personal stuff going on lately - i'm pretty confused, and things can't get worked out for another few days due to scheduling. it's definitely got me in really bizarre headspace, and if i sit and think, i drive myself insane.
so, i cleaned the oven. for three hours, with a toothbrush. i just sat there in my sweatpants and shirt from yesterday, scouring the goddamn oven. i took all the knobs off and thoroughly washed them, i soaked and scoured the burners, the pans, everything. it was really therapeutic. and i felt accomplished. not wanting to quit a good thing, i did the following things as well:
- washed all the kitchen rugs
- scoured the dishrack
- washed the microwave, inside & out
- washed the fridge
- cleaned all kitchen surfaces
- put out all trash and recyclables
- washed both penelope's dishes
- washed penelope's little orange placemat
- cleaned penelope's litter box and put in new litter
- swept
- washed the floor
- dusted and swept the living room and dining room
- swept the bathroom
- washed the bathroom floor
needless to say i'm sitting pretty fuckin' pretty over here at the casa. once the floors dry i'll clean the bathroom, and then go to bed. or get started on the bridesmaid dress. or the invites for the bachelorette. fuuuuck! i need a personal assistant.
i have been trying to be better about updating the blog. so i am going to at least catch up on last weekend. maybe later i will do this weekend. i make no promises.
after an incredibly stressful week at work, and the promise of an even more stressful one the next week, i decided to split town. shayne and i went up to VT to visit our respective sisters.
i started the trip by going to a turkey supper at the catholic church. they needed a new roof, so for $8.00 i got a full dinner and some interesting conversation. the guy next to me scared the pants off of me by wanting to talk about the Pope. i felt edgy enough about being in a catholic church, the last thing i wanted to do was get into a theologic conversation. it turns out that the dude wanted to bash on the Pope for being a nazi youth. boy, was i relieved.
the rest of the weekend was spent eating, and walking, and futzing. my sister figured out a nifty little cellphone hack so that i could create my own ringtone. now, when my phone rings, it plays Lonesome Magic Vice Harvest (aka -- the music from that Geico commercial). it makes me happy every time it happens. i got to see the school my sister swims out, and the legal clinic where greg works. and i got to pick up some of my favorite VT doughnuts and other assorted junk at the dented can store.
i returned much rested and ready to face the chaos at work.
so i'm up for my usual insomniac bout. reading a book, texting truncated conversations with an absence.
i just had a cigarette on the front porch. the smell of the air reminded me of a night in august four years and two apartments ago. it was so hot that night - i don't know how cold air and hot air can smell the same, but they do.
it was the first time brandon had slept over, but just slept, and on the couch. i was a strangely naive 23, and still not sure how to make the jump from couch to bed. we had bare feet, and i was wearing a slate blue tank top and pj pants - pink with hearts, a valentine's day present from my mother. there was a top that matched. it was overkill and i gave it to the goodwill, but good pj pants are something you keep.
i had brushed my teeth and was walking down the hallway. it was an awful hallway, running the length of our almost railroad apartment. there was a flourescent light at one end, and it was wood panelled and narrow. two doors at opposite ends, with nothing in between. somewhere there's a picture he took of me walking to the living room, with little drops of water and toothpaste staining my tank top. he loved that picture because i was so real and honest in it, and i realized that there is an intimacy and purity in unadultered reality that i'd never known before.
neither of us could sleep that night, and we ended up sitting on the front stoop at 4 in the morning, with our respective pj pant legs rolled up, touching knees and whispering so that we didn't distrub the city.
one year (one heartbreak, four months of space, one semi-back-together) later we were riding our bikes on the fourth of july. i had already fallen once because of him, and we took another tumble on the way back from playing in some sprinklers. there are pictures of our skinned knees together on the curb. he got it worse than i did, but the accident was caused when he grabbed the back of my bike and pushed - well intentioned but poorly executed. friends at the party were angry with him for not being more careful with me. i still took care of us: washed cuts, ibuprofen, water.
it's strange to think that someone who left me so bereft is now this beautiful set of memories and things that float along at night and have a taste and smell to them. tonight there is a sense of things going on: some sort of activity in the ether that can't be spoken or even defined with words. like you just reach up and pluck the past out of the breeze, to look at for a moment, and then let it drift off again. i am in love with the idea of somerville keeping my secrets and memories safe on its porches and stoops and quiet streets.
