The thingie in front of my house that I always refer to as Lafayette Square (which it is) contains a park, which, because Cambridge is not New York City, is _not_ reasonably called Lafayette Square Park (which would be cool, right?), but is rather called Jill Brown-Rhone park. I've no idea who Jill Brown-Rhone is, but I am sure I approve of her because it is lovely to have a little park in front of my house (-ish; it even has some of those tables with chess boards painted right on them).Ahem. After work, I met up with D. in said J B-R park to hand off the goods... you know what I'm talking about. *wink wink*. Ok, fine, I'm not that interesting, and it was some healthy chocolate stuff. Long story. Point is, why don't _I_ ever think of just going outside and hanging out in the park in front of my house? Seriously. I adore Central, I adore Lafayette Square, why don't I go out and enjoy it? So for about 30 minutes today, I did, and it was fantastic. Sun was shining, people were oot 'n' aboot, maybe some birds were chirping? Well, in my mind's reinterpretation of the event, there were some damn birds chirping.
Other lovely C. Square events of the day: DELIGHTFUL foods in the a.m. at Mariposa, a venture to some bluegrass nearby in the evening at Atwood's, and some nice downtime just after work, pre-park. Maybe someone will read this blog, decide to give me an enormous sum of money for a book and movie contract a la Julie and Julia, and tell me never to go back to science but rather to frolic around and critique Neil Simon-esque plays for the rest of my life. Eh? Eh? Drat.
