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 86: The Importance of Being A Local

Nothing makes you feel more like a local than coming back and feeling more comfortable in your own skin in the city you live in than in the place you came from.  This happens to me whether I'm coming back from my home town in Indiana, my family's stomping grounds in West Virginia, or (in this case), a mountain in New Hampshire.  Was so tired after the trip yesterday that I managed to spend the entire afternoon in bed finishing the second season of Downton Abbey followed by crashing pre-midnight through to the next morning.

Today was simple: work, rehearse for play with E. at S's place (director-on-two-of-us so that we could do scene focus), at then meet up with my roommate and a friend of ours who had also been up for the weekend in NH at a bar/restaurant near my place (Miracle of Science).  This now makes the 4th or 5th time in a row that I did not get carded at MoS.  For some reason, I have an irrational hatred of being carded.  At worst, it means that if you forgot your ID (which I don't), you have to go get it or talk someone into just letting you in -- and at best, it's a compliment that you look young.  But I hate it.  Typically if I'm there with older folks (than me), not getting carded is the norm, but recently it's been because I _am_ the older folk -- and I like it.  Was there a few days ago w/ J. and M. and arrived early, ordered beer, no carding.  Then when J. and M. arrive and order food in addition to beer -- they get carded.  Tonight, I arrived to meet V. and G-Dog after they were eating.  V's passport was out on the table -- but still no carding for me.  And that, friends, is the importance of being local.

All of this is still a diversion to say that I am going to miss this place a ton.