Thanks in Boston

My friends Margaret and Chris decided they wanted to do things a little differently this year at Thanksgiving: No pumpkin pie, no turkey, no overly fussy plans, no massive family gatherings. As I am not particularly emotionally tied to ye olde yankee traditions of Thxgiving, they asked me to grace them with my company. They had me at “no pumpkin pie.” I’m tired of pretending to like that muck.

Here's the product placement couple.


We made delicious food, including Bakewell Tart for dessert, their gracious and charming friends Seth, Karen, and Adam joined us, and much fun was had. We talked about politics and sex and religion, and sang a festive song or two.







The aperitif hour ended up being the most non-traditional. Wee Alice had been sick all week and not in her usual sunny frame of mind. Chris took her for a drive as a last-ditch (successful) attempt to lull her to sleep, and when they got back, I sat in the car with her and a book while he attended to the meat in manly fashion. After a while, there was a knock at the window --- Mags was standing there with stem glasses, a bottle of sparkly, and a plate of Brie and its accoutrements. We sat in the car and had girl talk in whispers, and finished off the Brie. One of those things that you can’t and wouldn’t plan, but wonderful.

There was lots of lounging in pyjamas, and eating tart at inappropriate hours of the day, and more talk, and music, and cheesy movies, but we also got to see the sights of Cambridge and Boston.

I had tea with my old college friend, Duane.






We went to the ICA (Institute of Contemporary Art), which had the most fabulous exhibition(Click on slideshow at the left). Beautiful things from ordinary objects. Paper plates formed into what look like balls of chenille wool. Semi-hemispheres of mylar that looked velvety, but also like coastal boulders, and on which I had an almost irresistible urge to dive and climb.







We visited the Gibson House, and even though we waltzed in without an appointment, we got a personal tour and I experienced the most gratitude of the weekend when I compared my washing machine and dryer to the boiler, mangle, drying room, and other nightmare apparatus that represented wash day back in the Victorian era. Though of course the house owners had a washerwoman to come in two days a week and do all the scrubbing and ironing. That wouldn’t be so bad. If you weren’t the washerwoman.

We wandered round the Back Bay area a little and researched chocolate croissants on Charles Street. And then it was time to hoof it to the airport.





Is too a colony. See.



These people were posing their dogs sitting on the ducks. Surprisingly successfully.



They really love their ducks.



I am thankful for friends.