Wow, just like that, home in Tucson, swimming in the lovely cool pool, kissing the lovely fluffy Fish, petting the reserved, handsome Simon, getting ready to ship books.
In ten days, I’m off to Dallas to teach and have a rock and roll weekend. Then back to Tucson to ship. Then back to Cambridge. This Southwestern whirl will last three weeks and some days…and today I’m spending cleaning house and garden (two months away during the monsoon season…stuff is crazy growy) and getting my head on straight.
Bill and the boys walked me to Harvard Square yesterday afternoon to catch the steamy train to the bus to the airport.
If there was ever a day to taxi to Logan, it was yesterday, but I actually wasn’t that smart. I hear that although yesterday was 91 and steamy in Boston, the heat broke last night, summer is over, and today, it’s fall in New England.
This is what it looked like as I left; we flew around the storm that broke summer.
The sun gleamed like fire on the water, and I recognized Castle Island, and the beaches that I loved in July and August… Pleasure Bay, Carson Beach, and then lands further that I plan to visit by ferry, later in the fall.
When I return, it will be sweaters instead of sweaty…we will have company in town, and a big birthday party for Bill and the boys.
I won’t mind the fall weather this year. This has been a glorious summer in all respects.
Miss Fish and Simon are in fine fettle, healthy and happy. The garden is a riot.
The theme of wild young boys continued on my flight home to Tucson, as a particularly energetic example of about 2 years old flew in the seat behind me for four hours on a full flight. His parents were exhausted, as they had a crying newborn as well. He was yelling, kicking my seat, jumping up and down in his window where he had been corralled.
In the opposite row was a man with two small dogs, each of whom yipped and barked with every yell and scream of the boy and baby. However, I had HEADPHONES, the ultimate survival tool.
The sunset over the midwest looked like a 1970s album cover.
I watched Larry David, started a new piece of beadwork, refused to care about the crazed yips and squeals behind me, like background noise to the madness of Larry and Leon.
My taxi driver home was a woman who believed in staying the lane one would turn from, no matter how far away that turn might be. How strange. We travelled, nearly unbudgingly, in the right lane for something like 6 miles down Alvernon.
People have such odd freaks.
I’m going to catch up on films this week (Boyhood and A Five Star Life to start out) in the cracks, cut back the garden, kiss the cats, make the most of each day to the best of my ability. I haven’t seen Orangelina yet, but I did see one of her children at the lurk. So far this is the only lizard I’ve seen all day. It seems a bit warm still for them to have Gone Under, but gone under they may have done.
It’s been fun to have the whole family together. Here is Bri in Squirrel Mode, biting Bill on the shoulder as he holds up the roof of Cafe Pamplona in Harvard Square. Bill says, sentimentally, “This is how I want to be remembered.”
After the bounty of any four-block area of Boston, I was horrified when I asked my phone where the nearest Italian restaurant was from my perch near Harvard Square, and it only came up with eleven of them, with the closest almost a half-mile away. It’s not that I mind walking a half-mile for Italian food (in fact I prefer a mile to a half-mile by a factor of two) but the fact that they are so far away is, shall we say, a sign. There are more frat houses in rock-throwing range than places with serious Fra Diavolo sauces.
Despite the frat-to-Fra imbalance, the three months I am there in Cambridge will be fantastic – the boys are capable now, competent even. I will be a completely free woman, on the loose with a T pass and a lot of work under my belt. I am going to tear up the entire Eastern seaboard.
Oddly, I don’t think of Cambridge at all when I think of MIT; it is its own space; occupying the liminal zone of the riverside, of Memorial Drive, a sparky layer between Boston and Cambridge. When I step onto campus, I feel I’ve entered a new land.