Day 105: Have you ever seen the rain? Or, The Importance of Living Above Toscanini's.

Someone told me long ago
There's a calm before the storm.
I know
It's been comin' for some time.


Today was Calliope's second chorus-only practice in a row (well, chorus and orchestra separate, that is) -- and it's always really nice to have Julia (our conductor) to ourselves. The orchestra is amazing, but when it's everyone together there is just so much going on.  Tonight we arranged in small semi-circles in order to hear one another better and get a good mix, and the altos in circle #1 (i.e., the circle I was in!) tore it up.  It was a great rehearsal -- the Bach that so intimidate us a few weeks back is now one of my favorite pieces to sing.


I had ridden my bike into Boston when the sky was only vaguely threatening to do much more than release a light mist, but by the time we were done rehearsing, a downpour had unleashed itself.  After a bike ride over the Harvard bridge, I went back home to dry myself off thinking I might go back out again.  But after a shower and a realization that I could grab ice cream without getting wet, I opted to stay in and play Rock Band with V., who is leaving for Japan on Thursday.

But back to the main point--I realized tonight that I can procure the most delicious saffron ice cream you ever did taste on a stormy Cambridge evening without getting wet.  How many people can say that?  I'd approximate about the 20 that live in my building, and that's it.  Honestly, even without the ice cream (which served as my dinner, mind you), I'd have been happy tonight.  I love summer rain.

Day 85: Sola Cafe (who knew?)

The Cambridge portion of today was brief, but significant.  I woke up and ran errands/prepared car for road trip with 3 other people (i.e. finally emptied the trunk and threw shit out)/went grocery shopping etc. this morning, and I was still ready hours before we needed to leave for New Hampshire at noon.  Of course I was still late anyway, but that's beside the point.

In my morning endeavors, I happened upon Sola Cafe on the way to the grocery store.  This is a route I have traversed many times, but somehow I always missed this cafe (upon remarking on this to one of the workers there and telling her that I only live a block away above Toscanini, she responds, "wow, you traveled all the way across the street!" -- she has a point; but I digress).

At any rate, the place is owned by the same people who brought you La Luna Caffe (which is _not_ on the opposite side of the street from my house), and is located right next to my favorite Cantabrigian Thursday Night destination, the Asgard.  I decided to grab breakfast there and it turns out you can get a pretty decent brioche for fifty cents.  FIFTY CENTS.  Does _anything_ else in this city cost fifty cents?

After that there was the picking up of Cambridge-area individuals from Jamaica Plain to Medford, the transportation of said individuals to New Hampshire, the playing the "spin-the-kid-around-in-a-circle-without-hurting-anyone" game x a bunch of kids, and many other activities leading to a crazy sing-along campfire lasting into the morning.  All in all, a good day.

Day 8: Toscanini's

This past September, I moved into an apartment right smack dab in the middle of Central Square. It also happened to be above my favorite coffee (and ice cream) shop, for better or for worse (I think for better) -- Toscanini's.

For months, I didn't mind the fact that I couldn't find my old coffee maker after the move, or that my second coffee maker was still in its original packing on top of a shelf in an office at school, because I could just grab a cup-o-joe on my way out the door (see today's cup above). A few months ago, I finally retrieved the mini-coffee-maker that was in the school office, only to have the plug melt due to its proximity to our very feisty gas stove.

This evening, I was making dinner (carbonara and salad) in another apartment in the same building of my old apartment on Plymouth Street. When I moved in with two other MIT graduate students three summers ago, it just so happened that four of our friends (*also* graduate students at MIT) were moving in to an adjacent unit in the same building (we shared a beautiful back yard -- hopefully there will be a picture of that once summer comes for real! -- with an incredible garden and a pluot tree). Anyhow, I was cooking with a friend who still lives there, and I remembered that I still had some things in the basement and popped down to see what was there. Lo and behold, I found my original coffee maker.

After transporting it and a few other items upstairs, my friend kindly offered to carry the coffee maker out to my car. Mere seconds after I had expressed that I thought this was very nice, he picked up the appliance and the glass pot slid out from the coffee maker and shattered all over the ground (I really can't express how perfect the comedic timing of all this was). I burst out laughing of course, because really I was still ahead -- I now have one working coffee maker with no glass pot, and one coffee maker with a bunk cord but a perfectly acceptable (if smaller) glass pot.

The upshot of all of this is that I have decided that Toscanini's must be conspiring against me -- perhaps I am just not meant to own a working coffee maker right now, but rather to bask in the bliss of no-hassle Dancing Goats each morning.