Day 141: Surprise cafe

Going through my head all day were the lines from the Rolling Stones song:

This may be the last time
This may be the last time
Maybe the last time
I don't know

:(

Well, today was the last Thursday in Cambridge, and you know what that means.  After work, biking to Calliope quickly for dress rehearsal, hugging a water cooler (see left), frantically searching for food (and finding some at a café that seemed to come out of nowhere on Boylston, Café l'Aroma -- tasty salad! might even have had couscous in it? --, it was time for the Last Time at live-band-karaoke.  While I didn't end up singing that particular song, I did sing some other Stones and Boyan (leader of B11) got me up there for back-ups several times.  I am going to miss those boys -- I know they will keep it rocking though!  And there is now a serious karaoke contingency among my close friends in Cambridge. Three more days!

Day 134: Indiana in Cambridge

This last trip to Indiana, I brought a little bit of it back with me to Cambridge.  That little bit being in the form of fresh sweet corn from my dad's garden (delicious).  I got back in town around 4 or 5pm, and headed over to D's soon after -- he was to host a dinner party for a friend who was coming in front out of town (another soul displaced from Cambridge to the West, though in her case, Seattle).  Anyhow, he incorporated the bit of Indiana into the stir-fry concoction (which was delicious), and created the above fruit salad, all locally grown and foraged from area trees the fruits of which would otherwise have been forgotten. (None were forgotten by us!)

The evening ended with a nice group of friends singing at with our favorite LBK B, B11.  Note the spooning action going on in the above fruit picture, by the way.  I think today can be considered the day that the emotional aspect of all of this saying good-bye to things started to hit me, as I am getting emotional thinking about the tenderness of the spoons, symbolizing all of us sharing the bowl of fruit [someone snap me out of this!].

Day 121: Zu x 2

 Something I have often viewed as a double-edged sword is the 2a.m. curfew Cambridge has imposed on its drinking establishments.  It seems crazy early, except that in the end one is very happy one has gone home by at least 2:30 and gotten some sleep.  Except for those nights where you manage to work around the curfew somehow... like tonight.

Long days have recently become the norm, and after work, I picked up my usual duo of E. and D., and also grabbed BNap as an addition to our car-ful to Georgetown.  Tonight was our first time not only off-book but also off-prompter, meaning that we were to wing it if we flubbed on lines.  Honestly, it wasn't half-bad.  We ran through the whole play, which is also rare, and so were quite late getting back into Cambridge. D-Money still being in town, we made sure that he and a small contingency were prepped for our weekly stint at the Asgard, and I managed to sneak one song in - "Signed, Sealed, Delivered" -- my first attempt at Stevie, and it went over well.

Most were too tired to carry on at all, but somehow it was decided that for D-Money and me, the party would go on.  A few moments with Chicken Slacks and the 'Tab was about to close, but ZuZu saved the day and we bonded over a quick beer there.  The night went on to included attempts at throwing old bicycles into the garbage can in front of my house (see above) and jamming with the pre-set midi files on my old-school Casio keyboard.  Just another night in Central Square.

Day 114: Alfalfa Farm

For some reason, the phrase "Alfalfa Farm" just seems to roll off the tongue so readily -- and it is our welcome sign on the way to Georgetown, location of the stage where we will perform Rumors in two weeks (! - just two weeks!).  Alfalfa is to Georgetown what alpacas were to Kokomo for me as a child.  Each time my dad would take us to Westfield to eat at his favorite buffet (oh yes, buffet), we would pass the alpaca farm just before arriving in Kokomo on the way back.  Home sweet home... and that's what Georgetown is beginning to feel like, a bit.

Alfalfa screams hippie to me a bit, which is fitting for today, because I finally decided to try to purchase some vegan "replacement" items for my cupboard -- or rather, for the refrigerator at work.  Apparently it's never a good idea to buy soy-based fake cheese product (never again), but almond milk is still OK by my book.  D. was displeased with my ranting about the horrors of replacing cheese, but that was ok, because the result was that he used some _good_ fake cheese (apparently tapioca-based Daiya shizz) to create vegan pizza for the whole cast -- some sort of win-win going on there, I think.

For me, the biggest down-side of having rehearsals in Georgetown has nothing to do with gas money or mileage on my car or time -- but everything to do with missing (or being disastrously late for) B11 LBK at the Asgard. Tonight we missed the singing entirely, though we didn't miss the band, and I chatted with them and hung out at the Asgard for a while before calling it a night.  I sometimes find myself thinking that my rent really isn't too high when I consider I got live-band karaoke for free across the street from my house every Thursday.

Also -- whoa. I just realized when mapping Alfalfa Farm that it's not a farm.  It's a winery.  Well, then.

Day 107: Out-of-towners

Today was just another summer 2012 Cambridge Thursday, complete with work (new computer today!), some downtime at home, rehearsal in Georgetown for Rumors, and live-band karaoke after.

Several the usuals were away this week (out of town), so I had no high hopes for turn-out -- but though the crowd was small it was certainly punchy!

Since our own locals were being out-of-towners elsewhere, it only seemed reasonable to interact with some non-local out-of-towners in Cambridge.  P. had already begun to do this by the time E. and I arrived from rehearsal, with someone in town from North Carolina on business.  He was a great karaoke fiend and sang us his son's rendition of the song "I'm sexy and I know it" (hockey-themed: "I'm Gretsky and I know it"); though I was a bit worried when at the end of the night he told us, "I drive better when I've been drinking than when I'm sober.  My wife's always telling me, oh you gotta drive -- better start drinking!" -- just before driving to his hotel five miles away.

Before the end of the night, we decided we'd probably be best off ordering some pizza at Cinderella's, and were somehow approached by the table next to us, a group of brothers visiting, originally from Chicago, spanning nearly a couple of decades in age.  When I mentioned I was from nearby Indiana, the youngest expostulated that he went to school in Indiana, at the best school of the state -- Notre Dame.

I laughed and countered that no -- that school was located in Bloomington, to which he responded with an inflammatory remark by inserting a particularly flexible adverb in between "best" and "school" to describe IU.  After that I was not so interested in conversation, particularly after one of them made some about assuming one of our crew had "just met me tonight."  Perhaps an upshot of the evening was just that I felt lucky to live in a place where the out-of-towners don't make me wish I lived elsewhere?  The Cantabrigians I know are pretty great.

Day 100: B11

A slight ode to B11 seemed to be a fitting topic for Awesome-Cambridge-Thing-#100.

Upon reflection, I felt it would behoove me to estimate the number of times the crew has been to Asgard in the last half year or so since the glory of live-band-karaoke was unveiled to me.  The first time was before the creation of this blog -- end of February -- when I went for a friend's birthday party and was shocked find the venue was across the street from my house.

The second time was the following week, when I couldn't resist and stopped by (by myself, mind you) on the way home after drinks for a friend who was going away.  Never underestimate the siren song of karaoke.

Since I really avoid doing estimation when exact count can be done (this is probably something that hinders me drastically in many walks of life, particularly in doing science), I have counted, and the exact number is actually 18 -- I'm pretty darn sure about that, too.  No error bars required.

That mean 18 nights spent with Boyan and the B11 crew.  They were in fine, fine form this evening -- and so were we!  Huge crew amassed for it -- out-of-town folks, folks from the cast of Rumors, regulars, irregulars, many!  Even ran into some long-lost friends.  The combo of rehearsing for Neil Simon's brilliance and then following it up with crooning Sting (well, tonight it was Sting) to Boyan's groovy guitar is something I'm really going to miss... What a perform-y summer -- And cheers to B11.

Day 93: Snappy Sushi

Two outings in Davis Square in a week!  After work, E. and I snapped up some sushi at Snappy Sushi in Davis before rehearsal for Rumors in Arlington.  It's too rare E. and I have one-on-one time these days, and even rare that it involves sushi, so it was a welcome treat.

Our read-through tonight was absolutely the best yet in terms of quality (if a little abundant in terms of quantity -- we have quite the chatty crew :)).  I have high hopes for this production.  Something I never got to hope for in high school plays was that they would actually be _good_!

Perhaps I'm becoming a bit of a broken record when it comes to reporting for duty on Thursday nights, but I won't give myself too much grief, because they usually rock.  Post-rehearsal live-band-karaoke this week was a lot of fun.  Ok, bear with me for one nerdy / mundane second while I relay the following boring story.  Boyan (the leader of the ominous, anonymous group B11) had posted online today that there would be three new songs for our live-band-karaoke enjoyment.  If you (yes you, reader) had to pick three current songs that one might add to such a list, which would you pick?  Think songs that are way over-played but somehow you hate to love and love anyway -- ?  If you picked that song by Gotye, the call me maybe song that has been meme-ed to the white house and back [sidebar: I was told I look like Carly Rae this past weekend at the wedding, which was weird until I realized she's not all that young], and the song by Fun that goes like this - "Toonniiiiiight we are yoooouuuuung " - then you are right.  Bnap and D rocked the former (er, the first) and I very much wish I'd passed out business cards with my digits on it for my rendition of Ms. Jepsen's masterpiece.  The best part of all that is that we don't have to do them again.

This reminds me of the best pick-up line that has ever been used on me.  It was at a party in Central sometime last year, and I believe it was perpetrated by a very nice (if exceedingly nerdy) grad student from systems biology or something, and it went a little like this: "May I have the integer representation of your contact information?"  If only I could recreate the voice.  [I facebooked him instead -- such a product of my generation, I know.  Honestly Carly Rae is giving a throwback when she asks us to call her maybe -- why don't we just send her a gchat instead?  So much easier.]

Day 89: The Importance of Resisting Harvard Square

You got to hand it to Cambridge when it comes to blending different "scenes" into one coherent atmosphere. Although I stand staunchly in favor of Central (I've sung its praises here ad infinitum), Harvard Square stands as another strong exemplar of a melting pot.  Amongst the Georgian architecture of the university's buildings roam all sorts of folks between the posh restaurants and shops, the bustle of streets artists and buskers, the crowded college-scene bars, and the tobacco shops.  Among other things.  To be fair, in Harvard Square the upscale outnumbers the tawdry (much more so than in Central -- and hence why Central will always come out on top in my book) -- but these juxtapositions make the roaming and people-watching some of the best in the city.


However, if you're like me, you need to remember that you belong with the tawdry, and not so much with the upscale -- important to remember as I shopped briefly this afternoon looking for one of those rare moments of finding an inexpensive-yet-blow-your-mind-great get-up for this weekend's wedding.  I had a close call a couple of times but managed to resist, so it was a pleasant (if brief) bit of time roaming around the square in the lovely evening weather.

This evening we held practice for Rumors at my place, then did the usual Thursday night sing-a-long at Asgard.  A decent crew amassed and it was fun, but I must admit I did a really hack job of Tracy Chapman.  Going on the to-do list soon (the one that is full of things I wish I had time to do) is doing some re-con on San Diego karaoke spots (clearly the thing that should be at the top of my priority list).

Day 59: Late-night live-band

Many weeknights in Cambridge involve karaoke. However, very few weeknights in Cambridge involve karaoke until 2 in the morning. Typically it's because the joint isn't even open at all for karaoke on a weeknight (e.g. Charles Playhouse), the joint itself closes before then (e.g. Courtside), it's a flippin' Wednesday and people are exhausted well before 2 a.m. and the joint is located miles away (e.g. Costello's in JP), or in some cases, the band is done before then (e.g. Asgard; photo above c/o a the lovely Erica). In actuality, the only karaoke place my friends and I typically attempt to patronize on a weeknight is the Asgard on Thursdays, when they have their epic live-band-karaoke nights. It has come to pass only once before that they managed to play past 12:30am, apparently due to a late start.

Well, tonight was another one of those instances, because apparently no one told the band that they would be unable to start at 9 due to game 6 of some almost-final series of basketball between the Heat and the Celtics.  I have never seen the place so packed.  The upshot was threefold: first, it meant that E. and I could hang out with the lead singer for a bit while he scarfed a couple of burgers out of boredom. Second, it meant that Sarah B., D., and others who were at yet another Boston ball game (the Red Sox) had some extra time to get back in to Cambridge. And third, it meant that the band played until about 2 a.m.  Cheers to bars staying open till 2 on Thursdays, cheers to musicians who are rad enough to stick it out, and cheers to good friends who stay up past their bedtimes.

Day 52: Cinderella's

Warning: there is some griping contained within, mostly in the second paragraph.

Typically I tout the fact that my apartment is located above Toscanini's, hands down my favorite place to get coffee and also to get ice cream in Cambridge.  However, this is a slight stretch of the truth -- in fact, my house is above an "Italian" restaurant just next to said coffee shop called Cinderella's.  Much less glamorous than Tosci, yet at certain points in one's life (or one's night), Cinderella's makes a lot of sense.

Yesterday after work, the original plan had been to run errands with Z., make an appearance at Gallery 263 for a bluegrass/folk concert there, and then go to the typical Thursday night LBK at Asgard.  Z. needed to pick up some computer stuff that was big/heavy from Microcenter and we thought we might go shopping at the Trader Joe's next door, as well. So I jauntily left work at 7p, thinking I had plenty of time to make it to the concert by its start time of 8 or just after.  Of course I forgot my phone at work -- and of course I couldn't just leave it there, as my office was going to be moved at approximately the crack of 7am the next morning.  So after I picked up Z. at home, I asked him if he wouldn't mind a) letting me run to work before I brought him back home and b) skipping the grocery-stopping step of our endeavors.  Of course he was acquiescent.  We got in line at Microcenter where he had ordered some stuff online, and when he whipped out his wallet... he realized he left the credit card he needed at home.  Thank God I'm not the only one who does these things.  Anyhow, phone was retrieved, Z. got to see BBN, card was retrieved from home, monitor and processor were purchased, and then I dropped off Z. at the front door so that I could go park.  Except after I circled, having seen someone move their car, a police-mobile pulled up immediately in front of the place where my car needed to go to turn left onto the street with the parking spot. And stayed there.  And stayed there.  Eventually I backed up the entire street to where the preceding cross-street had been.

But that was the last crappy part of the day. Because, as I have foreshadowed, the day was going to end with Cinderella's, meaning that good times would be had first. Said good times were had both at the gallery and then at the Asgard, where a bunch of folks from Calliope as well as some MIT-ers and the gallery crew met up for some soulful tune-ing.

After, there was still a bit more chatting at Asgard, then we proceeded onward to Cinderella's for some tasty grub, which we enjoyed outside in the park in front of my house, obviously also enjoying the company of many other Central Square-ers as happens when out on pretty much any night in Central Square.  Please tell me where I can find such things in San Diego...

Day 38: Foraged Banquet

With each passing day living here, my heart breaks a little more at the thought of leaving.  I know that learning to love a new city will be an incredible process, but - and here I interrupt myself because I can go no further with that train of thought.  Instead, I will reiterate how much fun it is to write this silly blog and remind myself how lucky I am to have moved to this city and met such wonderful people.

Tonight, E. and I went again to Gallery 263, where our friend sits on the board and also helped start the place a few years ago.  It's an amazing little place with soaring ceilings, beautiful molding, and a great location in the heart of Cambridgeport.  And boy, do they host a good event.  This was probably my third time (?) being there, the first two having been for art-only events -- meaning that the art was the primary focus.  One was an opening for a set of pieces (see blog post #3) with the theme "Gooey, Gobby, Gummy", and one was a silent auction.

Tonight, the primary goal was not to look at the art (though the member show was absolutely fantastic) -- the primary goal was to help raise money for the art gallery by attending a "foraged dinner".  The friend of mine on the board of said gallery is a researcher by day and a forager by - well, by other parts of other days.  Along with a chef (whose cookbook looked great!) he created a menu and a meal which fed us, and helped the gallery out a little bit.  There were speeches, allusions to t-shirt contests, and much, much sangria, and afterward the night went out with a bang at our usual Thursday-night live band karaoke spot (followed by Cantab (!) for a few of us).

Day 31: Park

Today I had the happy circumstance of meeting an old acquaintance, who is really a friend of friends, at a new establishment in Cambridge. He works at the Kennedy School at Harvard (public policy) and alerted me to the fact that this place had emerged as a rival to Russell House Tavern down the road, home of the illustrious fried poached egg.  The left side is actually a different bar/restaurant, hosting leather couches, bookshelves, and the feeling that pipes should be obligatory.  The rest has a cozy yet stylish restaurant feel, with so many nooks and crannies that you never feel you've seen the whole place.

By the time I got there (late, of course, because I was coming from desperately trying to catch up on work), we were both hungry, so he got the meat pie of the day (slow-roasted beef in mushroom/wine sauce) and I got the clam chowder.  We had a leisurely meal, complete with drinks (of course -- I tried the Fireside Poet) and a lovely chat.  Afterward, I ended up heading to meet E. at his friend's house -- a roommate was having a goodbye party as she is leaving to go back to Germany, back home -- and since our karaoke hookup in Boston said the place was sketch, we ended up hanging around in Cambridgeport for a bit before venturing back toward Central (read: my home) and ending up with our very favorite live karaoke band, B-11.  Though we didn't get to sing (showed up too late), it was still a good time.  Another beautiful, random Cambridge summer evening.

Day 24: The Wrong Campus Pub

Today, a friend of mine dissertated (!) and now has a Ph.D. in psychology from Harvard.  Pretty sweet.

I couldn't make it to the actual defense because I had to work, but of course there were festivities afterward.  So after work, I headed over to Harvard's Campus to the Queen's Head, Harvard's answer to some combination of the Muddy Charlies and the Thirsty Ear (the "other" on-campus pub at MIT).  It turns out my memory had just re-written itself, overwriting "Cambridge Common" with Queen's Head. For so many reasons, Queen's Head was the Wrong Campus Pub.

I figured my mistake out pretty quickly thanks to my helpful friends who were already at the right location, and much fete-ing was done for the dissertee.  In fact, JR and I managed to persuade a big group of folks out for live-band karaoke later in the evening.  But while I was still at the Wrong Campus Pub, so many Wrong things happened. It's located in the basement of Memorial Hall (pictured above), and as you can see even with my crap-camera-phone shot, it's a lovely old building (albeit a shortened version of a lovely old building, according to the story whereby the Cambridge fire station located across the street sees a part of Harvard burning and lets it burn, an answer to a many-years-old standing feud between Cambridge at-large and Harvard at-small).  In the basement, there are some pretty narrow halls that contain several extra tables where one can drink beer purchased in the pub, but there is not much room between the walls of the pub and the exterior walls of the building.  For some reason, some Harvard folks decided it would be a great idea not only to throw some sort of rather-obnoxious-and-flamboyant-Oscar-Wilde-style-dramatic-music-ky thing inside the pub, but also to have its cast members darting back and forth wildly amongst beer drinkers in the hall.

So thing number 24 that is right with Cambridge is how deliciously *wrong* Harvard can be.  (But then again, it is, more often, right. :))