Ashbloemstraat

Everything changes, everything stays the same.

A couple months back, my friend Jenny had the rather wonderful idea to have a girl's weekend at her family's home in Wellfleet, on Cape Cod. Both our friend Kelly and I had just gotten engaged, and it had been a good age since we had all gotten together without husbands/boyfriends/children. Way back before Jenny or Susan got married, or Kelly had moved to New York City, we had gone to the Wellfleet house a few times and generally just drank and laughed and ate well, so we thought this would be as good a time as any to recreate the old times. We tossed Annie and Dab into the mix and had just a lovely, low-key, totally girly weekend. And when I say girly, I mostly mean talking about weddings and marriage, but we also discussed psychics, Britney Spears, and Heath Ledger. Ok, and maybe a little politics and religion (smart women cannot stop being smart women, no matter how much we try to just focus on Us magazine).

I spent the evening at Jenny's home in a near-Boston suburb on Thursday, laughing at her kiddos and otherwise reading her cookbooks and cheese encyclopedia. We ran some errands for the weekend, including a stop in the small town of my alma mater and one of the best cheese shops around (if you go to college around a really good cheese shop, you WILL develop a sophisticated cheese palate, guaranteed - i think I tried a smidgen of everything there over my time in college).  We picked up some Pont L'Eveque and a Chevrot, which in our mind was all we'd need for a Friday night dinner - along with some wine, of course. But we did stop on our way down Friday at Jenny's brother's restaurant, Sintra, and had a couple nice clam and mussel appetizers. And Jenny's brother is a wine expert, and gave me three fantastic wines to try, all of which I have forgotten.

Everyone else came on Saturday, and we watched the sunset and had lobsters and really just thoroughly enjoyed ourselves- beer shots, toasts to each other, leisurely breakfast, and all.

Sunday night I spent back in Boston at Ann & Dab's, an evening replete with wine, cheese, and poker with Miss Carrrrrmen. You would think nothing had changed. Well, it hasn't, really, except I'm in Texas now, so this is the only weekend we've had like this since July in Vermont. Back when I was in Boston this would have been every weekend. And possibly some weeknights.

It was such a nice weekend, but perhaps also just a bit bittersweet, because it really just made us all remember how much we miss each other's company.  And I guess I'm really referring to Jenny, Susan, and Kelly here - Annie, Dab & I are a bit different thus far, as we spent so much recent time together, and now have our 4th of July tradition. (But of course I miss them like a hole in my heart, you know.)

Facing marriage, I am so happy that my friends have found the person that they are building their lives with, and two of them have had (adorable) children - so funny when they look JUST LIKE a friend! - but of course we do not spend as much time together as we did back in 1997 and 1998 or so when Jenny, Susan, Kelly and I just met each other. Well, and, now we live in different places. I take a lot of happiness from the fact that we CAN do it, however, when we put our minds to it, and hopefully this past weekend will inspire us to have a standing tradition of a weekend together each year or every other year. What do you say, ladies?

The wind and snow have swept away all the fears for now.

There is something refreshing about being at the end of the world with some very good friends - well, at least, one end of a continent, staring out to Europe - and I feel more open and clear and certainly more inspired upon my return home.

Got in late last night, and this morning have resolved myself to do a couple niggling errands that have been hanging there, begging to be finished the past couple weeks. I have been very bad with my emails as of late, and I will catch up on those this week. So please, if you have written me anything in the past month, I can only apologize and say replies are forthcoming.

It was fun to sit around with everyone and discuss wedding plans. I have definitely been keeping my mouth shut about it because I do not want to be one of THOSE BRIDES; but still, it is more like the biggest and best party I've ever thrown, so I WANT to talk about it! The outlet was well-needed. I feel some ideas flowing that I'd been damming a bit, and after discussions with Dab about the invitation I sketched out a few ideas I need to scan and send her. Dabney is a crack designer; I love her simple, mod, ever so slightly Japanese-y style, so I'm so excited to see what she will come up with. I'm refusing to allow myself to get TOO caught up in the invites and programs, as I know most people just throw them away (guilty!), but I do want them to reflect what we are going for on that day. And I'm sure we'll frame one or something goofy like that.

Last night I dreamed I was in a crashing plane. That one could not be more obvious, but I'm going to ignore those feelings of anxiety. I'm in too good a mood today.

Off to accomplish some things OFF-LINE. Back with more on Wellfleet and Boston and the lovely people in my life later. Oh yes, and also: my non-adventures in Dallas rail.

Come for a drink, all ye Bostonites.

If you live in the Boston area and feel like wishing David and me bon voyage before we leave on Tuesday, we are having an informal get-together tomorrow evening at JJ Foley's on Berkeley Street.

This is not a party; we'll just be hanging around the bar drinking and want you to stop by for a drink, a hug, and a kiss.

If you want to make a day of it, come to the South End in the late afternoon and visit Ann & Dabney selling their Mogo wares at the Bazaar Bizarre at the Cyclorama, then walk over to Foley's after.

So, hopefully see you tomorrow, December 16. We'll be there after 8:00pm.

Cheese and beer; wine and good cheer; keeping back a tear.

After my many moves, I recognize the social pattern that falls into place about three weeks before departure. Suddenly everyone, including myself, realizes that d-day is just around the corner, and there is a mad scramble to fit in time together. Like clockwork, this has happened with us in the past few days, which of course heightens the bittersweetness of leaving - but more importantly, it is a hell of a lot of fun.

Last Thursday Annie and I played darts and hung out at Foley's, and I had my first real twinge of sadness about leaving, even so far as to feel that tightness in the throat when the tears want to come. Maybe it is strange that one of the things I am saddest about leaving is a BAR - well, perhaps not, since I drink so much. But it isn't the beer I'll miss there, of course - Guinness can be procured in quantity at many a place in Dallas. It is the fun of having a true Local. A place that is not too clean, but not too shady; a place easily within stumbling distance; a bar where the bartenders call us by name or "The Neighbors"; where the history and clientele is colorful; and the beer is reasonably priced (which seems to be a lot to ask in this town). I suspect there will be many nights over the next couple of weeks that I will at least pop in for a single beer just to soak it all in as much as possible, and dadgummit if I am going to leave without getting those fellows some sort of farewell gift. They each have stockings hanging up on the wall, after all. That's just begging for treats.

Friday night marked the last night for some time that we'll go to a show at The Middle East; in fact, we only have one more show slated for our time here and at the ME it is not. Carrrrmen, Thatsada, and C's new beau Jim joined us and not only did we groove it up to Plus/Minus there, we later went - where else? - to Foley's and played a bit of drunken Big Buck Hunter. We closed the place down, which, despite all my evenings there, was a first for me, then scattered our ways after a very satisfyingly bouyant evening of carousing.

I'm not sure there is any finer way to while away a Saturday afternoon than ensconced in a booth with sausage and biscuits and plenty of beer, since three of us were in dire need of a little hair of dog. The B-Side Lounge in Cambridge was pleasantly empty and quiet, with the exception of Merle Haggard on the sound system. We admired the fact that they listed every drink along with prices, and my poison for the afternoon was a combo dubbed the "Mullet". The Mullet was simply a shot of sambuca with a Bud Light back, and let me tell you, it gave me new life.

After our lazy brunch, we wandered home and then hopped on the train out to my friends Jenny & Josh's place, where we had a dinner that was composed of nothing but gorgeous wine and decandent cheeses; we played with their beautiful children and enjoyed a fire in the fireplace, and murmurred that although we hated to leave such wonderful people behind, being in an actual house made us realize how much we're looking forward to having one of our own. Not that we'll have beautiful children and a fireplace right now, but, you know.

Arrived back in Boston a bit before 11 and popped by Annie's to harass her until the full day overwhelmed us. Sunday was a relaxing day of sorting and packing and finishing up Christmas shopping, and there the story of the weekend ends.

It's been so long now I have had it in mind I would leave Boston that it seems hardly real that these are some Lasts. Not Lasts forever, of course, but Lasts in this chapter of my life. I'll be back to Foley's someday but probably never again as A Neighbor. Dropping by Annie's at 11pm will no longer happen in this way because... well, let's face it, when I visit here I'll probably stay with them, and it won't exactly be "dropping by" anymore.

But I also have to remind myself that we have entered that stage that I mentioned - it's fun now, and it kind of makes it harder to go, but if we weren't going away, we'd still be playing phone tag and having to cancel plans with people because of weather and life; or maybe we'd still make plans but they wouldn't have the same depth we perceive now. The move shapes our reality at this stage, and I can't judge what life would be like in Boston based on this.

And so all of this make the Lasts so sweet, and so fun, and just that bit of sad. It's a reality I wish we all had more time for.

Nice bike.

I mentioned before how someone once stopped me to ask about my bike, but it has happened time and again now, and every time someone does I am suddenly awash with fondness for these Boston folks who really are so friendly once something breaks through the crusty veneer.

People say that Southerners are far more friendly than Northeasterners, and I suppose on some level that seems to be true. But I also find that Northeasterners are more honest, more direct, and less bullshitty, and I appreciate that far more than the constant gentile warmth that leads me to wonder - "yeah, but what are you REALLY saying to me?"

Or maybe I've just been away too long.

Anyway, after reading Lillet's entry about neighborly New York, I have been thinking about this a lot recently, as it is going to be one of the hardest things about leaving a city that is built compactly enough to be forced into daily interaction with people on the streets, since everything is done by foot or cycle. I'll miss the physical aspect of course - it is easy to be healthier when exercise is built into routines automatically - but I have grown to thrive on the daily contact, even if it is just smiles on the street; watching Chinese children leave the local Asian market hand-in-hand with grandma; brief chats with the neighbor; or once-a-week smiles with my favorite cute checkout girl at the cheese shop across the street.

I am a bit predisposed to being a hermit, for all my party-throwing enthusiasm, and living places like Boston and Amsterdam keep me involved with life around me. I look forward to the SPACE of Texas, but I will feel acutely the loss of these daily forays into lives lived differently, and pondering the fine lines we map across the neighborhood when we cross paths. The dog park across the street, where I can watch owners and charges end the day with a game of catch. The summer sounds of Little League through the window. The Puerto Rican old men playin dominoes on the street. The people who take the time to stop and say "Nice bike!"

This morning when I came downstairs, sleepy still and dreading yet another boring day, I found a little note banded around my handlebar:

"Hey! You have a Kronan cycle - wow! I lived in Holland and had the same silver bike. You made my night! How did you get one here?"

Signed with an email address, which gave me a penpal, if only for today; we've happily swapped emails about our bikes and Amsterdam. A day I was otherwise unenthused about brightened by someone who had a couple beers down the street, and as he was walking home, saw my bike and decided to share his delight. It's the spontaneity I love, the neighborhoody bonhomie; and while there are many aspects of the move that are good for me, it is this I may miss most and mourn most of all.

Sightseeing.

Peter Ayres of Haverill spends his days now at the Granary Burial Ground, buried beneath approximately six feet of earth and a pile of autumn leaves. Sneaky of him then to never let on about his age. He was really 80, but didn't look a day over 66.

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The pews of the Old North Church are divided into high-walled boxes, labelled for each family who would there attend. They could keep their coal foot heater within, as well as get up to some very naughty things if they so desired; though one imagines they wouldn't desire, being under the eyes of god and more immediately, the eyes of the people in the open pews upstairs.

The back pew is labelled "For strangers and wardens", which is surely to be taken literally, and not assumed to be the name of a Revolutionary America indie band.

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You don't see these too often. This is a genuine WWII Blackberry.

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When walking around a Navy shipyard, one is apparently just asking for injury if only wearing one shoe and short pants. Don't let it happen to your dog. Wear two shoes when out in your pantaloons.

Wigs. Harvard. Lobsters. Blah.

Sometimes having fun is exhausting. Generally, I deem our annual wig & moustache pub crawl this year to have been a success, but due to some bar closures, delayed flights, no-shows, and generally too much alcohol, I ended up feeling that it was more work than fun for me this year. This is not to say I did not enjoy myself, however; just that it did not flow as effortlessly as last year. And I was in love with American Boy's handlebar moustache, which sadly disappeared as quickly as it was shaped, as he was not sure how well work would cotton to it. But, at least for two days, I could pretend I was dating Earl (not that I want to, mind you).

But it was nice to have Josh back in town, this time with Ladyfriend in tow. We got up the next morning with varying degrees of hangover, and went down to Providence for our yearly visit with S & B and the (now) two kids. When we visited last year, S was very pregnant indeed (giving birth within a month after our departure). Once again, we relished simply being in a house, with a yard, and more than two rooms, and little people running around with gusto. And hair of the dog, which was well required.

This photo makes my ovaries ache.

Monday came before I knew it; I went downstairs to hop on my bike to run some errands. Oops! The seat was gone! Thanks, asshole thieves! Man, I hate people. Good thing we have two bikes, right? Right.

So, I hopped on the other, went to the Pru to run various errands, including buying myself two books - Infinite Jest, David Foster Wallace (which I have been meaning to read for ages), and London: A Biography, by Peter Ackroyd (which I have already started and is GREAT; I love love love city histories, especially ones I know personally). Went downstairs to my bike: Oops! Flat tire! Goddamnit.

One of the errands I ran was to pick up Boston Duck Tour tickets, which was our evening Boston excursion, followed by a brief tour of Harvard Square and the quad (Ladyfriend has never been to Boston, and American Boy had yet to visit the Harvard quad). I told them the story of the John Harvard statue - well, at least the part about the statue not actually being the likeness of John Harvard, as there was no portrait image to work from (I couldn't remember if this was the case, or if he was just damn ugly, but I rechecked my facts this morning and it is that there was no Harvard portrait to work from. I liked my second story better, but oh well). I forgot to tell them that the statue claims Harvard to be the founder, which he was not. But I DID tell them that despite being well-worn by many hands rubbing it for good luck, one should NOT rub Harvard's bronze shoe for luck, as Harvard boys have a penchant for peeing on it.

I am excited because tonight we're having a lobster dinner; Josh, Ladyfriend, American Boy, Annie & Dabney, and me. My little apartment rarely hosts dinner parties these days, as space is so limited and generally there is no where to sit. But every now and again we can make it happen, and this is a special enough occasion to do so. I mean, it isn't anything in particular, but a bunch of people who are special to me, and the last Josh visit to the northeast whilst I am in residence here.

This weekend we also shipped off the first stage of boxes down to Texas. My goal is to send 3-4 boxes every couple of weeks until the only stuff left is what will fit in a van. Including the cats. God help us.

Despite all these lovely things, I'm beset by sadness and disappointment in myself. When I try to make too many people happy I seem to fail the most spectacularly. American Boy experienced my bitchy side in full force for the first time, and he was so shocked by it I don't think either one of us are over the distress: he in me, and me over the breech in his faith in me.

I have a terrible habit of walking away from disagreements. Some of this, I think, is learned behaviour from the last relationship with Mr. NC. He was so mean in his arguments, so personally pointed in his attacks, that my best line of defense was to disengage.

But some of it is inherent, of course. I don't want to get into it. I want to forget. I want to move away from places with painful associations. I can't commit to these uneasy feelings. I want to ever look forward to the good, and sweep the bad under the proverbial rug.

If only it was so easy.

Ebb and flow.

It's been a funny week for friends.

There is so much fluctuation recently, or perhaps metamorphosis is a better word, because the change is all positive and forward, thought it has some sad aspects. I haven't said much about it recently due to the fact that I have just been so busy that I've hardly blogged; hardly looked at other blogs - but I'm trying to catch up now and take some deep breaths and live my life, possibly my last few months ever in Boston, as fully and enjoyably as I possibly can.

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Big changes afoot for my dear friend Miss Terra, who, if you have been reading Ashbloemstraat for a while, you will know and recognize. Terra and I have been friends and, for the most part, lived in the same place for the last six years. Well, my friends, NO MORE. Miss Terra has pulled an American Boy. That is to say, she met a nice fellow; a mere four months later, she has packed up everything she didn't sell and moved to Long Island to be with him (ok, so, for American Boy it wasn't even one month, but you know what I'm saying here). It's sad to see her go, for sure, but I just can't bring myself to be depressed about this one too much. I've never seen her so happy, and the truth is that she needed a change. And if it took love to get her to kick herself out of her job and Boston, ALL THE BETTER.

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Photo courtesy of Annie.

I was speaking with Annie and we mentioned that even WE feel like we haven't seen each other in ages. The reasons for this are very good indeed, as the little business they have started has been doing wonderfully, and they are travelling to craft fairs outside of the city, and even when they aren't at craft fairs they are working busily away. So even though I feel I haven't seen them much, it's all for a good reason, and I'm happy to see Mogo taking off. They've always said they accept that it will be a labor of love for them, but lets be honest - labors of love are much more fun when they start turning a little profit.

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Out of the blue I received an email message from a long lost friend. D and I were on the same study abroad program in Florence, and bonded from the first moment we met - which, as I recall, was in Milano Malpensa airport when we landed. Every good story, trip, and adventure I had during my time in Europe my junior year was done connected to D's hip. We smoked, ate nutella, and giggled at other people from Florence to Prague to Budapest to Greece. I've been to Greece a few times now, and to this day I consider the trip I took with D to be the best one - both for the things we saw, and for the fun that was had.

I tried desperately to find her last year, going so far as to write to her alma mater, as well as the program we attended in Florence. Well, thank goodness for Google and my blog, because this week she was able to find me. We chatted on the phone for a little while last night, and despite the time passed, I feel like I just spoke with her yesterday.

Oh, wait. I did just speak to her yesterday.

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And there are other changes to numerous to list: newly single friends; visitors coming; weddings to attend; old friends having babies. In the midst of all this, American Boy and I have been planning our own move more concretely; gathering and packing boxes, deciding what is worth taking and what is not.

Boston is beautiful these days, and far from making me sad to leave I feel ever so blessed to experience Boston the way I love it the most: bright blue skies, with just a hint of autumn upon the air. It may not be the best city in the world - it can't offer the wealth of adventure of NYC; the beauty of San Francisco; the weather of L.A. I may not love living here as much as I loved living in Amsterdam; and I will always be more Texan than Yankee. But the truth is that I have lived here as an adult more than I have lived anywhere else, and in that way it is home in a way no where else is. All the changes that have and are to come make me realize that more than ever before.

Sealed the deal.

It was a wild animal kingdom this weekend in Boston, let me tell you. Friday night kicked off the weekend with some Snakes on a Plane. And yesterday we went to the New England Aquarium.

But we didn't just go to the aquarium and stare passively at fish. Oh no! We signed up for their "Playtime with the Seals" program. So for about 30-40 minutes we went inside the seal tank and fed the little guys fish popcicles and played with them and their toys.

After playtime, we did go into the aquarium, which I had not been to since... oh, I was in college, so over ten years ago. The New England Aquarium really is a quality aquarium. In addition, it was over-run with small children, which had the added benefit of cooling any baby fever that may have still been lurking in my body recently. There is nothing like a tiny, smelly army of toddlers to make you... not want one. Individually, they hold a power. As a group... just the opposite.

But I leave you with some fishy-type animals, because I have to actually work today.

If music be the food of love, play on.

Last night I broke my self-imposed hermitage to go to a show at The Middle East Upstairs. It was the first time I had been to this part of The M.E., and for the life of me I can't figure out why. It's like finding a door in your house that leads to a well-lit attic that you never knew was there and yet had been THE WHOLE TIME.

It's been a refreshing change to have American Boy bring music back into my life. When I was unemployed in Switzerland I spent a fair amount of time listening to music, perusing music news sites, and generally keeping up with new sounds and names (usually Swedish, sure, but they ARE the best). After the move back to Boston this waned considerably, mostly just due to the pernicious malignancy of depression, which caused me to lose interest in most things, music included. And during last year, my year of self-reflection and mental renewal, which is really just Ashbloemspeak for LIVING WITHOUT A COMPUTER AT HOME, I didn't listen to anything that wasn't given to me and even then burned CDs rarely played on my CD player, so they were often left to gather dust.

In walks American Boy, he of prodigious music knowledge and collection, not to mention a computer and stereo upon which forgotten CDs can actually play! Also a live show attendance compulsion, which means that I am far more likely to go to them as well. There is some compromise here though, as I am, after all, a 8:30 to 5:00 worker, and going out on weeknights makes me miserable at work the next day - I go when I think I don't have much the next day, but if I don't go, AB generally trundles off happily on his own.

(Aside: I love that he goes happily on his own. I am not made to feel bad for not accompanying, and he doesn't stay home just because I don't want to go. JESUS CHRIST ON A BICYCLE, HOW SEXY IS SOMEONE WHO DOESN'T REQUIRE ANYTHING OF YOU?)

Going out more and to different places has also added another dimension to Boston, one that, during this time of my general dissatisfaction with the city as a realistic place for me to live (which is NOT to say I still wouldn't rather be here than most other places in the US), is warmly welcomed. It finally feels like I'm connecting to some creative spark in the place, which has been sorely lacking from my relationship with it.

On the downside, my otherwise general disdain for MySpace has turned into a begrudging appreciation for the ease in which one can discover new music (and, apparently, the first boy I ever kissed - in the seventh grade theatre costume room, which might explain in a weird Freudian way my later theatrical inclinations) and I find myself on there more and more. Damn. Foiled again by the internet.

My desire for music is back, and though I will never be as rabidly engaged in it as AB, I feel better and more connected to life itself because of its renewal; much like I do when eating buffalo mozzarella with fresh tomatoes and basil, or drinking a quality wine, or hugging a friend, or having sex with American Boy. All of these things are LIFE AFFIRMING. They add value to what little time we have; in fact, they help us realise how much time we otherwise waste. I guess a worktime hangover every now and again is worth that.