The long awaited TWO DAY weekend

That's right, folks. I am that excited about my two day weekend. May is full of workshops, festivals, and special concerts at work, so I was at the office for part of the last two weekends. Feeling worn out and in need of some serious rejuvenation, I was determined to have a serious Sunday kind of life this weekend. And, here we are on Sunday night, and it appears that I've succeeded. I don't want you to fall asleep of boredom, so I won't really get into my night time activities (birthday party, dinner party, the movie "Date Night"), and we'll just focus on the Sunday Kind of Life aspects of the weekend.

THURSDAY
Thursday night started off the whole weekend atmosphere with the Dicks (my bookgroup). As usual, we enjoyed some delectable treats and three bottles of wine at my friend's cozy apartment. The menu was fresh homemade guacamole, toasted plantains, chevre and fig squares, celery and fennel salad, quinoa with pesto/feta/roasted veggies, mushroom ravioli, and very dense mint brownies. I came home feeling refreshed and ready for a good weekend.

(FRIDAY should go here, but isn't exciting, so it just doesn't exist.)

SATURDAY
On Saturday morning before 10:30 am, I had done laundry, worked out, cleaned, and gotten ready for the day. My parents and I went to the kickoff of the SoWa art market, which I've been looking forward to since October last year. "South of Washington" (SoWa) is in the South End in an up and coming artist community. The SoWa open market is held every Sunday from May until October. There are local artists -- everything from paintings to jewelry to ceramics to apparel, plus assorted food vendors (When Pigs Fly bakery and Danish Pastry House are two of my favorites). Although I try not to be frivolous with my money (and clearly don't always succeed), I like buying things directly from the artists and talking to them about their process. I confess that I bought a headband with a gigantic flower from "Utopian." The artist and her friends came over and gushed about how perfect the flower was with my untamed hair, and I couldn't resist.

After we methodically made our way through the rows of the art market, we wandered through the indoor vintage market. It's like a flea market, full of an overwhelming amalgamation of trash and treasures. The building is filled with old cups and dishes, records, costume jewelry, clothing, and black and white photos of solemn strangers. It takes a certain amount of patience and determination, but the goodies are there if you're willing to look.

As a special treat for the SoWa kickoff weekend, there was also an art walk. All the old warehouses that have been converted to art studios were open to the public. We meandered through hundreds of studios and chatted with the artists. It makes me want to be an artist, just so I can work in those spaces, whose brick-lined walls and paint spattered tables have so much character.

Paints and paintbrushes in one of the artist's studios. I want this.

By this point, our feet were dragging and it was time to devour some lunch at the Buttery, a South End cafe with delicious treats, sandwiches, salads, and refreshing drinks. The freshly brewed iced tea was a perfect balance of bitter and sweet, and really hit the spot after a day in the sun.

SUNDAY
Today, I woke up early and strolled around Cambridge, weeding through yard sales on my way into Harvard Square. Most of the yard sales were mediocre (gotta have high standards, people...there's a lot of crap out there that people want you to buy), but I found a wonderful coat hook with a rose on it that is exactly what I've been looking for, and I bargained the owner down to just $2. Success!

Yard sale find. Genius.

I met a friend in Harvard Square, and we wandered down Mount Auburn Street, Mass. Ave., Brattle, and sat by the Charles River for a couple hours watching the goslings in the water (so cute and fuzzy!). We continued our walk and got iced tea at Crema Cafe, then sat outside for a few more hours people-watching. Before we knew it, it was 5:15 and I began my slow amble home. I wandered into Stereo Jack's again (are you sensing a trend here?) and flipped through the records, but managed to extract myself without buying anything.

When I got home, my roommates and I proceeded to do things around the house. I hung hooks to pull back my curtains, hung up my new (old) coat hook, and then cooked up a delicious dinner of quinoa, roasted onions and asparagus (thin asparagus = summer is here), and a little feta.

New curtain hooks keep my curtains tied up so I can let the light in. 

After dinner, we went for a walk so we could get our favorite Richardson's Purple Cow Chip ice cream, and it was STILL LIGHT OUT at 8:15. I can barely contain my excitement. There's nothing like a good post-dinner walk around the neighborhood and watching the sky go from bright blue to vibrant cobalt and then fade to black. I think I might actually be ready to start a new week.

Miscellaneous thoughts from Patriots Day Weekend

Here's an old post I meant to publish a month ago, on Patriots Day Weekend. I know you've been waiting for this, so please accept my heartfelt apology.


This is one of my favorite weekends of the entire year.

1. When I was a kid, it symbolized the start of April vacation, which we kicked off with the reenactments and parades in Lexington. It's the holiday that only Massachusetts people understand. April 19 is just another Monday anywhere else, but here, you get to see Paul Revere riding around the north end on Sunday, and follow his route as he travels around the Boston countryside alerting the Minutemen that the British are coming. This is where our country and independence started. HOW COOL IS THAT.

2. Once I got to college, we started volunteering at the Boston Marathon. I miss the revolutionary activities, but the Boston Marathon is a legend in its own right. Boston becomes this hub of energy for runners, their families, and everyone else who comes to gawk at the crazy (and inspiring) people who run 26.2 miles. As we headed to our hydration station at Mile 25 today at 9 am, the city was already abuzz with excitement for the Marathon and the Red Sox game. Passing off the water cups to runners is quite an art, and we take it very seriously. There's nothing worse than dropping or spilling a cup and denying the runners of that desperately needed water. And there's nothing better than seeing a runner's face expand into a grin when you holler his name and tell him he's doing great and is almost at the end. It astounds me that these runners, who have already run the outrageously uncivilized length of 25 miles, still take the time to thank the volunteers and to tell us that we're the ones who make this happen. I'm fairly certain that I wouldn't be quite as kind and grateful after running that far. These people are amazing. Afterwards, when we walked around in our fluorescent volunteer jackets, everyone we spoke to was so appreciative and respectful of our volunteering. An inebriated BC law student gave quite a speech to our car on the T, informing us that we're much bigger people and much better humans because we took time to give the runners water, while he just drank beer. It wasn't quite the most eloquent speech I've heard, but the sentiment was there. The whole city seems to come together in this magical way every Marathon Monday. The best way to experience it is by volunteering and getting on the race route at a hydration station, where you're right in the midst of it. Being part of it will be worth the sore body parts, sunburns, and waking up early on a holiday.

Pre-marathon excitement: Poland Spring truck bearing hundreds of gallons of water, thousands of paper cups waiting for the runners, volunteers wearing offensively bright jackets, and police gearing up for the big day.

3. Record Store Day was Saturday, April 17. I spent 3 hours at Newbury Comics and Stereo Jack's browsing and buying, and generally just soaking up the atmosphere. For the most part (caution: music snob comment is quickly approaching), only people who are rabidly passionate about music know about Record Store Day. And that means you get these frighteningly devoted music fans flocking to their local record store, grabbing new releases, taking advantage of special sales, and bonding with fellow crazy people about their favorite albums. As I picked up a Magnetic Fields CD, I had a truly High Fidelity moment. As I picked up a Magnetic Fields CD, a guy came over and gave me a 5 minute spiel on why it's such a sublime album and why I had to buy it (I did). For the most part, everyone silently focuses on the goods, but occasionally you hear a gasp of delight when someone finds a treasure they've been looking for since 5 years ago. At Stereo Jack's, which is your quintessential old school small used record shop, I love flipping through the rows and rows of albums and listening to the chatter of the obsessive music geeks. Someday, I will be knowledgeable enough to converse with them.
When I got home with my new wares, I set up an old record player that one of my students left for me. I picked out a couple records and lay on the couch listening to the quiet and calming sounds of the record player. In case I haven't already made this excruciatingly clear, sometimes I like to pretend I'm in High Fidelity. It feels good.