Oh, Boston
Last Weekend, In Pictures

Fenway - looking good at 100

Green Monster

Match-y match-y

Though we lose, yet we dance

Coffee & letter-writing, upstairs at Algiers

The many faces of a sleeping chubby-bunny-love

Fact: Minutemen loved their bling

Up In Boston Town

Looking down on the Granary

I made a quick 30-hour trip to Boston this weekend for a friend's baby shower.

True (if somewhat anti-feminist?) confession: I love the prep time before parties, gathering with all the other ladies in the kitchen and getting things done: cookies plated, punch stirred, coffee brewed, cakes arranged. Pitching in, pulling together, pooling strengths to provide hospitality.

In the midst of all this happy domesticity on Saturday, I thanked God for it.  I do rather enjoy being a girl.

So fun to see old friends and celebrate new babies.

So good to contemplate community and the concept of "home."

Leaving church

So interesting to discuss the theological problem of 'evil' over a late-night sushi dinner.

So comforting to be heard and understood.

Hitching post for your dog buddy

So nice to share a bazillion cups of coffee and grilled blueberry muffins and laughs.

To walk familiar streets.  To re-tread inside jokes.

Waiting for brunch at a fave spot

To MadDawg, Diesel, bANaNAs, Kujo & the rest of my Beantown urban fam:  

I miss you's already.

Love, KP

Back in the Day

There are some situations in which I'm able to exhibit a tremendous amount of patience, and then there is travel. When going somewhere, I just want to be there NOW.  I don't have a ton of patience for traffic, delays, general dilly-dallying.

But I got a double-dose of patience-practice this weekend.  My bus ride to Boston on Friday night should have taken around 4.5 hours, but we picked up an extra 3 hours sitting in snow-related traffic in central Connecticut.

And my bus ride home from Boston on Sunday morning should have begun at 9am, but due to some d-baggery (That's right. I said it.) on the part of MegaBus, we didn't get on the road until close to 11am.

P-A-T-I-E-N-C-E.

It got me thinking about the days of yore, way back before busses even existed (let alone before they were mega), and how folks then must have been infinitely more patient than we are nowadays.  Because weather delays would have tacked on extra days - not just extra hours - to a trip. 

When your travel plans are impacted significantly not only by weather, but by horse health, by unpaved roads, by waning daylight, by highway bandits, by scurvy, by crop rotation (what I don't know about the days of yore, I make up), I think one must have lived with a more present sense of his lack of control in such matters. 

And in ceding control (or realizing you never were in control in the first place) of one's calendar and time tables, perhaps one is better able to swallow life's little delays with grace and patience.  Wait it out without tapping your foot.  Utilize the delay by reading a good book, instead of fuming that your afternoon gym time is being compromised.

Of course I can't quit my calendar entirely.  Nor can I ignore the value that modern society places on timeliness and efficiency.  Nor can I show up to work 45 minutes late, blame it on a sluggish horse, and expect no consequences.

But the next time the subway slows me down, I will practice letting go. I will read my book and will not tap my foot.  Days of yore-style.

Pleasant / Presence

This past weekend I went to Boston to hug old friends and laugh; to celebrate, see again, and send off.

We shared dinners and cups of coffee, watched movies, toured houses.  We went to church; we went to Martha's Vineyard (see pics).  There were too many gummy bears.  There was not enough time.

I heart these girls a ton - for our shared history together, for being co-travelers on some rocky paths, for the ways they are each different from me, and for things we have in common.  I heart them because I feel free to be me when I'm with them.  They remind me of who I am, in the deep-down nitty-gritty, and their wisdom and encouragement reminds me of who I want to be.

(Also, they are freakin' hilarious.)

Inside the Tabernacle, OakBluffs, M.V.

Dear bANaNAs, 'Dre, Kujo, MadDawg, Trafmeister, and Zamboni:

I love you more than my luggage.  Thanks for being you.  And thanks for giving me glimpses of the God who binds us all together.

Gummy-bearily yours,
KP

Poetry In Motion

The frozen Charles River, 1/1/10

Dust of Snow, by Robert Frost

The way a crow
Shook down on me
The dust of snow
From a hemlock tree

Has given my heart
A change of mood
And saved some part
Of a day I had rued.

One of the poems now appearing on a subway car near you is the above, by Mr. Robert Frost. I like it. It reminds me of my practicing-joy endeavor.

And of being watchful for those small moments when God's beauty becomes apparent, when it comes barreling at you, and though you were determined to be sullen and grouse over all the injustices handed you that day, you can't help but walk away in awe, and possibly even with a smile, certainly aware of your smallness, once again thinking about eternity.

Ringing Out

Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,
The flying cloud, the frosty light;
The year is dying in the night;
Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.

Ring out the old, ring in the new,
Ring, happy bells, across the snow:
The year is going, let him go;
Ring out the false, ring in the true...

Alfred, Lord Tennyson, 1850

* * *

I like this poem. I like the sentiment.

What's more? I like that this year is over. I'm ready to ring it out.

To do that, I'll be using the cowbell I got for my birthday yesterday. It's painted white, with black lettering that reads "I got a fever..." (I'm guessing y'all know what the prescription is, right?)

No doubt it's just the sort of "wild bell" that Lord Tennyson had in mind.

And so - here's to peace, light, truth. Here's to gentle rhyming. Here's to finding a place and space to each ring our wild bell in the New Year.

For the Love of a Sofa

It was born in 1981 in the far-off, corn-growing land of Illinois. MadDawg’s family brought it back east some time later, where it spent a happy adolescence in a basement in the Virginia suburbs. In November of 2001, on a sunny day amid falling leaves, it was loaded onto a Ryder truck and driven north to the great state Commonwealth of Massachusetts.

The Hide-a-Bed.

Yes, folks, the Hide-a-Bed.

Part sofa. Part pull-out bed. Part treasured member of my Boston urban family.

It was the color of five-day-old oatmeal streaked with flecks of carrot. The fabric was not what one could call “soft,” but it held up well. In later years, it took brute force (and a little luck) to get the bed to close up properly into sofa position. But we didn’t judge the good little couch; the passing years had taken their toll on us, as well. No one is as limber as we once were. Poor little couch.

And yet so much more than just a couch, wasn’t it? It was an instrument of hospitality. SmAsh took up residence on it that first winter he owned the boat, when it was too cold to spend the night in Boston Harbor – the Hide-a-Bed was his safe harbor then. And when the Trafmeister Jenneral and SJT needed a place to lay their heads during times of transition, the Hide-a-Bed was home for them, too.

The couch held our friends, and it also helped us make new ones. When moving it into our Somerville apartment, its massive girth attracted the attention of our new neighbors, who were quite neighborly and helped us haul it up the front steps and into the living room. And from then we were friends – sharing food at holiday potlucks and drinking White Russians at Big Lebowski movie nights.

And when it came time to journey to fancier digs across the river, that couch was the proving ground of true friendship. I still remember feeling so blown away with gratitude for our dear urban family who so cheerfully helped us move. You can tell true friends by the ones who will help you move a Buick of a sleeper-sofa up three flights of stairs.

The Hide-a-Bed also enjoyed being our bleacher seats for major sporting events. I was sitting on it in 2004, flanked by fellow Sox fans, watching the TV with disbelieving eyes as the curse was reversed and the Red Sox won their first World Series since 1918. And it was the perfect perch to curl up on each time the Olympics (!!) rolled around and you felt like watching some late-nite curling coupled with Bob Costas’ human interest stories.

I took naps (awesome, awesome naps) on that couch. I shared laughs and practical jokes on that couch. I cried out a lot of sadness and drama on that couch, over the years.

I was looking forward to one day bringing a boy home and introducing him to the couch. That could possibly sound a little dirty, but shame on you if you read it that way. I simply meant that I wanted my future someone to have a chance to meet and greet the piece of furniture that played such a pivotal role in my twenty-something years.

But alas, the Hide-a-Bed can no longer remain in our lives. It is being called on to its next destiny (with a brief layover in a lovely spot known as Goodwill). I hope it will bring as much fellowship and comfort into the lives of its next owners as it did into mine.

Goodbye, Hide-a-Bed! You served us well. Thanks for the memories.

On the First Day of the Rest of My Life

Daily Photo A: Happy Feet
Daily Photo B: Bye, Bye NYC

Daily Photo C: MZB helps with dessert!

Tough day, my birthday. Gotta tell ya - not my favorite day of the year. My main goal, most years, is to get through it without crying. Most years I don't exactly make my goal. Today was no exception. But despite some occassional tears, there were also some bright spots, and as I believe my intention this month was to focus on any and all bright spots, here's a quick review:
* Pulling my prized possession - those pretty, pretty skates (aren't they pretty!?) - out from the back of my closet and letting them see the light of day. My time at the rink this morning was unfortunately limited, but in the little time I got out there, I was a star on ice. At least in my own mind. And that's what counts, right?
* Meeting up with BethE for a sweet time spent over streudel and coffee in the shadowy corners of the Hungarian Pastry Shop.
* Funny/ weird/ happy/ thoughtful voicemails throughout the day. Plus mad love on Facebook. Plus cards in the mail. Loved my birthday greetings - thanks, friends!
* Showing up in Boston to be surrounded by dear, dear friends at one of my favorite restaurants in the old 'hood. Stress dissipates just to look at these folks. (And when this one laughs, I laugh too, no matter what she's saying. She's just got that way about her.) Catching up on latest happenings, reliving SNL sketches, getting carded by the waitress (bless her heart), sharing that ginormous Charles River Pie with MZB, talking 'bout who knows who who knows Al Pacino, and playing unintentional games of Telephone ("He kisses like an octopus?" "...No.") Thanks Boston family for meeting me where I am, remembering where I've been, and having faith in my future! Love you lots.

On the Fourteenth Day of Christmas

Daily Photo: Park Street Church, Boston, MA

Just returned from my weekend in Boston. It was a sweet time spent with old friends, most of whom I first met among those pews you see in the photo above. So great to reconnect, dance, share meals, share news, and just share space with them this weekend.

Bonus Daily Photo: Looking west on Comm. Ave.

On the Thirteenth Day of Christmas

Daily Photo #13: The Decked Walls of Sak's 5th Avenue

I'm safely ensconced in a friendship cocoon up in Boston this weekend. And so my "daily" photo, above, was not actually taken today. You're looking at The Big Apple, circa Thursday. I'll give you a window on Beantown when I get back, but for now - here are some of the "good things" I'm soaking up today:

-Waking up cozy on the notorious hide-a-bed, just as MZB arrived to make us all b'fast

-Bacon, bacon, bacon for brunch

-Laughing, laughing, laughing easily

-That Michael Bolton dance party I've been looking forward to ("Girl, that's why I wrote you this song...")

-Four words: Rum Cake Bake-Off (!!!!)

A Made-Up Conversation, in the Style of JennT & Kristy, Good Friends-slash-Comedy Duo who will be Reuniting in Boston this weekend, which Kristy is Ever-SO Excited About:

JennT: Hey Kristy?
Kristy: Yeah, Jenn?
JennT: How do you stay cool during these hot summer months?
Kristy: Well, Jenn, I listen to songs that make me shiver.
JennT: Hmmm. Neat. Like what?
Kristy: Well, Jenn, I have Sinatra's Christmas album on repeat on my iPod. "Silent Night" gets me every time.................Hey Jenn?
JennT: Yeah, Kristy?
Kristy: Which do you hate more - pinto beans or lemurs?
JennT: That's a timely question, Kristy. I'd have to go with "inefficiency in our justice system."
Kristy: Cool. Me, too.

[End Scene]

(Confused? Left wanting more? Catch our live show, this weekend, Beacon Street. Be there!)