A trip home wouldn’t be complete without the requisite day out with my in-laws. Its often a dinner and a movie. I saw all the lord of the rings with them. And they like to celebrate and take us to nice places for dinner. Its always a good time. Today, we decided to forgo that tradition, and visit the Harpoon brewery. Where they have 7 beers that we can sample. All we want.
Best. Tour. Ever. The tour was maybe 5 minutes long. The dude yelled for while in the loud room about yeast and stuff. This after I liberally sampled 6 different beers. Nothing but smiles for Jimmy.
Then instead of going out to dinner, we returned to the Ruddens for a suprise. They had a clam bake delivered to their house. They knew that:
a. I’ve never been to a clam bake before.
b. I really want to go to a clam bake.
so, as special treat, they had one delivered.
It was the best seafood meal I’ve ever had in my life. Clam chowder, tha BOMB steamers, and then a lobster. All fresh. All totally delicious.
Oh man. They treat me good over there. And I get to live with their daughter.
The east coast is a funny place. Not sure if its “Ha ha” funny, but more “watching the neighbor get it hit in the groin with a tennis ball funny”. It would be particularly funny if that actually happened, since my next door neighbor is David Ortiz. There’s nothing as funny as seeing a pro ball player getting nailed in the nitters. By a tennis ball that I threw. Sorry, I digress. . .
I grew up in a suburb of Boston called Newton. And now I’m back there, for a visitation with the folks. It’s also somewhat convenient that my (now) wife grew up a mile away from my house. And, for the time being, everyone’s staying put. There was a whole scare a couple months ago that Stina’s folks were moving to NY, but after selling a lot of their worldly possessions in preparation for the move, they thankfully bailed on that idea. We always travel back for the X-mas holidays (being the good jew that I am), and sporadically during the summer. I forget that California is basically a desert. Because I get off the plane, and I start sweating. There’s this “humidity”, and my body freaks out. So my wrists stick unpleasantly to my laptop, my trackball jumps around a bit, and everything smells of “its about to rain.”
Its always good to come back home. We have cable here. And an enormous collection of Robert B Parker and Dick Francis books. A super lazy, hella fat cat that runs away if I look at her. A fabulous grand piano which remains silent unless I’m around. Mom always makes cookies. My childhood friends come over, gather in my basement, eat all the cookies, and try to make a dent in our giant costco soda collection. We pour some on the ground for old times sake.
Maybe two months ago, someone broke into our apt building and stole our neighbors really nice bike. They cut through an enormous chain lock. Its sucked.
About two weeks ago, Stina (my lovely wife) very abruptly decided to run a triatholon (she says she’s doing a tri – I guess that makes more sense since running is only one of three segments: running, biking, and swimming). Now, we are not prone to perform tasks of extreme physical abilities. Thus, this was kinda of a shocking decision. But go Stina! Fear not – I have pledged not to run a single mile with her.
So she’s been amassing all sorts of fancy sporting equipment. Its rather intimidating, and out of place in our apartment. The piece de resistance: a new fancy bike. Our good friends run a bike shop, and sold us a fancy u-lock that cannot be cut or pried open. So we lock it to the railing that runs along our stairwell.
Our neighborhood bike thief returns yesterday morning (around 5:45 am, we learned after talking to folks in our building) to augment his meager income. Does our unbreakable lock deter him? Nope. We wake up to find that a section of the railing was cut out.
Now that’s fucked up.
Last night I took my friend Sarah to a show at the Independent. I took her to celebrate her performance in a voice recital earlier that day, and because I figured she’d love the opener. The show was the Dead Hensons (a muppets and sesame street cover band) and Hurra Torpedo (a band that uses kitchen appliances for percussion).
Now this is a fairly atypical show for me. I’m a big live music fan. I go to see a lot of shows. Most of the shows I attend are jam band/funk – where I’m really honing in on the musicality, and less on visual stimulus of the band. This was a show where it was more a total sensory experience – the antics/costumes of the performers, lots of banter, and enthusiasm while playing.
So here were, grooving to 1,2,3 4,5 6,7,8,9,10 11 12. Can’t keep the smile off my face. The audience eats it up. There’s a massive kick line forming right infront of us. The band (at least 8 of them) were incredibly warm and loving. They did a lot of instrument switching. A short, but lively set. You can see why they have a loyal fan base. Its hard not to feel good while they’re playing.
Set change. A bunch of beaten up dishwashers, stoves, and other appliances fill the stage. Three huge Norwegian dudes in matching blue tracks suits enter the stage. Their pants do not cover their bare asses. Then the proceeded to go INSANE. There is no way I could ever accurately portray the level of insanity that occurred on stage. Lots of screaming and flailing. A seriously evil cover of a Britney Spears song. Some honoring of Satan. These were some FUCKED UP dudes. Again, and somewhat suprisingly, the audience ate them up. People went nuts.
I felt like I really was witnessing something special, something I’ll never see again. Mostly because I can’t believe these guys will survive much longer. Their bodies will just cave at some point.